Thirty

He blows bubbles on the surface
making noises, treads for seconds,
takes a long breath in, rockets
to the bottom of the deep end.
 
I hold my breath with his, count;
start at three, hit seven, then move  
fast, sit, toes plunge in cold water,  
watch him below me carefully.
 
He surfaces, splashes, removes his
goggles, scolds me; I crashed his goal
of thirty!? I think he knows my need to
jump; he asks me 'please just trust me'.
 
‘I see you-’ I start, sit back, watch his
puckered fingers wipe his face, he
breathes in deep, drops down again
before more words can leave me.