“He saved my little girl. I want to name my baby after him.” She patted her round belly.
Carlos recalled the nickname of an indigenous friend from his youth. “His name is Beaver.” She looked mortified. “I’m sorry. I had a brain fog. His name is David.”
“If I have a baby boy, I’m going to name him after David, in honor of him. If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Davida.”
“Davida? Hmm. You don’t know the sex of your baby?”
“Absolutely not.” She hugged her daughter, shivering from the cold water, wrapped in a thick towel, still wrought by emotion over having observed her daughter nearly drown.
Hakan did not linger on the beach near the pregnant woman for accolades or even the gifts she offered, spitting a huge gob of salvia at the sand when she extended her hand with a huge pizza slice and ice cream cone, recoiling when she tried to embrace him. Hakan dashed back into the water and swam out far from the treacherous shore. Still, Carlos supervised Hakan closely as did a lifeguard, who watched vigilantly over what she warned him was the most deadly stretch of shoreline for drownings in the province and indeed in Canada. The lifeguard nearest to Hakan, Carlos later concluded, did her job too well. She saw Hakan disappear under the waves when he dove under the water, but she did not see him resurface.
One minute went by. Then two minutes passed as he closely scrutinized the surface of the lake through his sunglasses, as fear grew inside him. A third crucial minute passed, and Hakan still had not resurfaced anywhere around in that section of Lake Ontario. Carlos could not comprehend how his boy could possibly hold his breath for so long under the water.
The lifeguard looked around vigilantly and scanned the smooth, calm lake surface. When she still could not see his small head with its thick mantle of long dark hair, she panicked. She forcefully blew the whistle, making the signal for a drowning. Their hand-held radios squawking, lifeguards gestured with their hands and signalled, whistles were blown, radios cackled, and rows boats were boarded and lifeguards sprinted along the shore. Another two rowboats further along the shoreline were launched as lifeguards paddled towards a potential drowning. Crowded with hundreds of swimmers, the beach was large and, in the middle of the city of Toronto, well frequented, and the sheer size and numbers of swimmers and sun bathers still left Carlo, born and raised in Beaverbrooke in northwestern Ontario, impressed. Dozens of sunbathers and swimmers and beach volleyball players scurried about the lakeshore, attempting to help, and he was in the midst of panic. The lifeguards cleared the stretch of beach along the fourth largest freshwater lake in the world of literally thousands of swimmers. Then the wading swimmers and sunbathers formed a line as they aided the lifeguards in searching for a potentially drowned child. Stricken, the pregnant woman saw what was happening and made a call on her cellphone to 911 for them to hurry and send more emergency services
The initial lifeguard used her radio to summon the police, ambulance, and paramedics. The police marine rescue unit even sent divers on a speedboat. As Carlos was about to approach the lifeguard, Hakan appeared seemingly from nowhere. Shaking, shivering, Carlos held a towel tightly around his narrow shoulders.
After impatiently flagging down a taxi on the lakeshore boulevard, he took him back to the hotel room and allowed him to rest and sleep, even though Hakan was filled with almost manic sort of energy. He started pounding the walls and beating the drum Carlos had bought him in a music store in the mall; he was trying to make Carlos understand he wanted to watch the late night drama on television, The Sopranos. In an agitated state, Carlos no longer knew how to react. Carlos feared the authorities in Toronto might become so concerned by his parenting of Hakan that they might send a social service worker from one of their aboriginal child and welfare agencies to investigate him. He cancelled the remainder of the trip to Toronto. He telephoned the twenty-four hour airline reservations desk and booked two seats aboard the next flight home. Staying up the entire night, he kept vigilant watch over him, as he slept soundly. The following morning, at great expense to his pocketbook and bankbook they abruptly flew back to Beaverbrooke.
