Fear of Water

“Jonas come! C’mon it’s only knee-deep water. You won’t drown, trust me, okay?” Braden said, trying to coax his son into the pool.

The eleven-year-old stood transfixed to the ground, rooted like a giant tree, unmoving, unyielding and unwilling to jump in.

“Honey, Dear, perhaps it’s a bit too much for Jonas, you don’t want another repeat of what happened on the lake last time,” said Rachel, putting her delicate hand on her son’s shoulder.

It’s just like before. Dad’s going to throw me into the water. The deep, cold, dark water, where I can’t breathe, Jonas thought, hyperventilating as the memories of nearly drowning played over and over in his head.

“Come Jonas, have something to eat. You’ll feel better soon. We can practice swimming next time,” said Rachel, leading her son to the lunch table.

“C’mon Boy, you call yourself a Hansen? Hansens’ aren’t afraid of a little water. You can’t be afraid just because you swallowed a bit of lake water on your first try. How did I end up with a teenage son that’s too afraid to even shower by himself. If Dawson was here, he’d be right at home swimming laps in the pool. That boy’s a natural swimmer, that’s for sure,” said Braden chuckling.

Hearing his older brother’s name being brought up again made Jonas grimace. All his life he had been compared to his brother. If only you were as smart as Dawson. You should be brave and stronger like Dawson. You should learn to swim like Dawson. Dawson, Dawson, Dawson.

“Don’t you worry, you’ll learn to swim sooner than you think Dear,” said Rachel as she laid a turkey sandwich on his plate.

Jonas’ older brother Dawson would’ve finished the sandwich in four bites, while he tended to nibble daintily at his food. Dawson was away on a sports scholarship, being paid to play university football. Jonas on the other hand got another F on his sixth-grade math test. His mother tried desperately to help him with his studies, but despite multiple tutors, expensive software and countless hours studying he would never be as smart as his straight A brother.

“We don’t expect you to be exactly like your brother, but we do want you to try your best Jonas, that’s why we keep pushing you, to try your best,” his mom had said for the millionth time. “If you don’t have a goal to reach, you won’t have motivation to try harder, because it’s not about the result, but rather, it’s all about the effort you put in.”

When night arrived and his parents were asleep, Jonas timidly walked to the edge of the pool, its clear water glimmering in the moonlight. He thought about jumping in, just to prove to his parents he was good enough, that he was just as good as Dawson. He took a step back in preparation to jump, but suddenly an owl flew overhead, snatching a rat from the grass; he could hear the creature squealing for help. After a few seconds the squealing stopped, and Jonas tried to not imaging seeing the owl tearing apart the rodent piece by piece. Looking again at the deep, cold water, Jonas had second thoughts and backed away, slipping back into the house unnoticed.

As Rachel packed Jonas’ school lunch, she noticed her son was more solemn than usual, and like any doting parent, she began to probe: “What’s wrong Dear? Didn’t have a good sleep?”

A part of him wanted to tell her that he was tossing and turning all night thinking of how he could make them proud, to be like Dawson. But another part of him wanted to throw in the towel, to scream at his parent’s faces to stop comparing him to his perfect brother.

“Nope, I’m fine, really,” lied Jonas as he grabbed his bag and exited the front door. The expectations of his parents hung over him, like a weighted neck brace imprisoning him to a life of comparison with his brother.

When he arrived at the middle school, he sat down at his first class, which happened to be Mathematics, his least favourite subject. And as luck would have it, there was a pop quiz today on fractions. As he took out his pencil and eraser, he stared at the questions facing him, blatantly obvious to how they should be solved, mocking at his stupidity.

“Jonas, if you need help, just ask. If you don’t ask I can’t help you, alright?” said Mrs. Richardson, the prettiest math teacher there ever was. “Just remember what we learned in class okay? You can do this, I know you can.”

Jonas took a deep breath then recollected his fractured memories of class the week before. He imagined the fractions as slices of pies; one over two was half a pie; one over four was a quarter of a pie. Thinking of pies made his stomach gurgle, and the students who heard it giggled. He had only ate a slice of toast that morning, too depressed to bolt down his usual breakfast.

Back at home, Braden was preparing to go to work but not before listening to his wife’s intuition. “Something is bothering Jonas lately, maybe you boys could go out on a fishing trip and talk about it, because he’s keeping it from me no matter what I say. It would help him get over his fear of water too, maybe.”

Braden gave a thumbs up then exited the front door with a slice of toast in his mouth and balancing a coffee in one hand and a suitcase in another.

With the boys gone, Rachel started on her graphic design work, with her son’s abnormal behaviour in the back of her mind.

The logo needs to be more streamlined. Did Jonas feel like he was being streamlined to be like his brother? The colours of the signs don’t match. Why couldn’t Jonas match his brother’s excellence in studying and sport?

Rubbing her head as a headache started to throb, she searched for a book on parenting a child with a lack of self-esteem. Many suggested throwing the child “into the lake” so to speak, and to let them learn for themselves what is right and wrong, a trial by fire to build their confidence. Others said you have to watch over them like a hawk, controlling their every move until they learn to do exactly what you wanted even when left to their own devices.

One book in particular suggested giving your child a role-model, someone to follow in their footsteps and to guide the child. Rachel smiled; this was it. This was what she and Braden were doing, setting Dawson up as a role model for Jonas. But why wasn’t it working? Why was Jonas not trying his best to be like his brother?

There is a fine balance between expectations and hope. Expectations without hope is guaranteed to fail. Hope without expectations is simply misguided and aimless. Both are needed to help you child succeed.

Rachel finished reading the excerpt and decided to buy the book, eager to read more about the insights of children’s behaviour and tips on parenting.

When Jonas returned home from school, Rachel noticed he was even more dejected than before, with his head hung low and shoulders sagging like a bag of sand.

“How was school Honey? Did something go wrong?” asked Rachel caringly.

Jonas simply handed his marked quiz to his mom, keeping his eyes from meeting hers as he knew she would be disappointed in his lack-luster effort.

Rachel read the notes written by Mrs. Richardson, written in bright red ink:

0/15

I know you can do better than that Jonas, come see me after class.

“What did Mrs. Richardson say?” asked Rachel, wondering what the teacher thought was the problem.

“She said I need to practice my homework questions more so that I remember how to solve them. She said she’s certain that I’m not doing all my daily homework questions and that’s why I’m failing.”

Rachel watched as her son scuffed the floor with his dirty sneakers, clearly embarrassed with his own failure. “Why don’t you do your homework then? If it’ll help you get better grades, what’s stopping you from trying?”

Jonas glared at his mom, matching her gaze for the first time since their conversation started. “Because I don’t want to be like him, to be like Dawson! I hate that he’s better than me in everything, and that you and Dad care way more about him than me because he’s so perfect. Why should I try if I’ll never be as good as him; I’ll never be better than him. If I try my best and it isn’t enough, I’d rather not try at all and not get my hopes up.”

Expectations without hope is guaranteed to fail, the words from the book replayed in Rachel’s mind.

“Son, we want you to have hope but perhaps you’re misunderstanding our expectations. We don’t need you to beat Dawson, we’re just using his achievements to make you try your best, and honestly, our expectation is that you improve, not just in math but in all subjects. Because when you improve, you’re making progress and that’s what’s truly important.” Rachel patted her son on the head, and returned to her cooking, leaving Jonas to digest what was said.

They want me to improve, improve enough to beat Dawson. I can do this, I can beat Mister Perfect. I can make Mom and Dad proud, thought Jonas as he shook off his shoes and went upstairs to his room.

When Braden returned from work, his wife waved a ladle at him, gesturing him to see Jonas upstairs. “I had a talk with him, maybe you can tell him about the fishing trip this weekend?”

“Sound good, I’m sure it’ll do a world of good for his confidence with some quality father-son time,” said Braden as he walked upstairs quietly. When he reached Jonas’ room, he knocked and entered the room, which was as neat and tidy as a sailor’s bunk on a ship.

“So I heard from Mom you flunked another math quiz today. You wanna talk about it?” Jonas looked away and stayed quiet, hoping the awkward silence would end.

“I booked a fishing trip for you and me in Okanogan Lake, just a few hours drive from home. It will give us time to talk, how does that sound? The water’s not as scary as it looks.”

Jonas fidgeted with his fingers as he continued trying to ignore his dad. As Braden got up to leave, he mustered up his courage and asked his dad outright, “Dad, are you prouder of Dawson than you are of me?”

Braden turned his head and shook his head, “That’s an unfair question Son, you’re both my sons and I care for both of you.” Jonas narrowed his eyes and furled his eyebrows in frustration. His dad had ignored the question, he was prouder of Dawson, that was the truth, but he couldn’t say it to his face.

At the dinner table, the awkward silence started again, and nothing but the scraping of plates and cutlery could be heard. Rachel gave a concerned look to Braden, then tried to start a conversation, “So did Dad tell you about the surprise fishing trip?”

Jonas barely reacted before saying an unenthusiastic “Yeah.”

“Are you excited about the trip?”

“Uh huh.”

More awkward silence ensued, until Braden decided to tell them all a story of a fish that got away. “So this one fish, probably a tiger trout, fought me for a good fifteen minutes, before the line snapped and the fish got free, but with a hook in its mouth, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it died in a couple of weeks. Unable to eat properly with that metal thing jammed in there. Was probably the biggest fish I tackled all season, maybe twenty or thirty pounds for sure.”

Soon they were not only talking about fishing trips, but were on their way to experience one first hand. Jonas had gone fishing once or twice before, but only when he was little. Too little to be jealous of his older brother who caught the first fish. Too frightened to get close to the edge of the boat.

“Now Dawson, he caught a monster Rock Cod offshore of Vancouver Island a couple years ago, and he reeled in that beast like a pro. When Mom cooked it the day after, it was absolutely delicious, sweet and fresh from the sea. Don’t you worry Jonas, we’ll get you a plump fish in no time.”

“Dad,” said Jonas quietly, so quietly that Braden didn’t hear him and kept on rambling about past fishing trips.

“Dad,” said Jonas louder, and this time Braden heard it.

“What is it Son?” asked Braden, cocking his head sideways to listen.

“Do you like Dawson more than me?” Jonas asked for the final time.

“That’s not fair…” Braden protested.

“Do you like Dawson more than me?”

“Stop Jonas…”

“Do you?”

An awkward silence hung for a good ten seconds before Braden revealed the truth: “Yes, Jonas, I favour Dawson over you, but you must understand you are both my sons and nothing changes that.”

The skies quickly darkened and a howling wind picked up, creating large waves cresting dangerously close to the boat.

“I’ll prove to you I’m better than Dawson!” said Jonas as he readied to jump into the roaring ocean.

“No Son, Jonas wait, stop. What are you doing?”

“I’ll show you I can swim just like Dawson can!” Cried Jonas, with water in his eyes, or were they tears, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter that he was scared of water. It didn’t matter that he never learned to swim properly. All he could see were images of his brother holding trophies, awards and scholarships with his parents prouder of him than ever, praising their ideal son.

“No Jonas please…”

Jonas jumped off the boat into the wind and the waves, followed by Braden who rushed in to grab hold of his son.

As Braden barely held onto Jonas hand, his son apologized with tears rolling down his face.

“I couldn’t do it Dad. I can’t swim like Dawson can. I just can’t. I thought I could…but I can’t. I’m so scared Dad. So scared.”

“No, Jonas, grab hold of my hand, please, you can’t give up!”

The teenage boy’s grip on his father’s hand slowly weakened, and eventually he was swept along the waves, far from land, the boat, and his father, whom he had tried so hard to please.

The End