Pool

It was prematurely dark when I locked my bike up underneath the thick trees. I let my helmet fall from my head and I snapped it around my messenger bag strap, hanging like an awkward flopping canteen or melon  Inside the public pool I flashed my membership card to the guy behind the counter, with an air of confidence I lacked credence to.

Inside the girls' locker room  I undressed in a stall. It was mostly kids my age, giggling and smiling. There were a few moms, attempting to carall the girls into their clothes or suits, whichever they were changing in to. My mom didn't need to come help me get dressed. I was a star, I thought as I struggled to tuck my newly acquired wiry pubic hair up under my black one piece suit.

I rinsed off in the shower and walked out into the pool room. The smell of chlorine sucked up into my nostrils, absorbed into my brain goo, and permeated the stress of reality, comforting me. Kids screamed and ran around me, their barefoot feet slapping against the wet concrete. The lifeguard whistle blew, high and shrieking through the echoing concrete room.

I stood at the edge of the deep end. I felt all eyes on me, even though they were probably none at all. I dove in what I thought was a graceful swan swoop into the cool slurping waters. Around me kids fought with foam noodles and splashed each other. I rolled my closed eyes at that frivolity and swam forward in smooth mechanical strokes.

The cool water rushed through my subconscious, washing away the stress of chess club drama and the boy in band class who made fun of me when my underwear showed above my sagging jeans. I felt at ease, like I was sleeping. I turned my head and took a breath, my lungs filling with cleansing energy.

Kids laughed around me, their screams diluted by the water blanketing my ears. I imagined they were all jealous of my strong swimming abilities, while they played with their friends. I wondered if everyone was in awe of me, too strong of a swimmer to play with others. They teased each other and pulled on each others' suits. They climbed on each others' shoulders and jumped back off into the water, belly flopping in clumsy loud crashes. And I just swam onward in a straight line.

And these kids would have fun and play and be friends and grow up to have families and homes and jobs with coworkers and girlfriends and puppies. And I had some moderate swimming skills. These little kids screaming cannon ball would get married and grow old and hold hands and play in the falling leaves in the fall. I would practice clarinet and read a lot and work on my technique.

Soon I was one with the water, invisible, made of blue chlorine saturated liquid. I swam back and forth in repeated laps, twirling when I got to the end and shoving off the walls with my feet. I wasn't tired. I was translucent and wet and everywhere. I swam faster and faster. Was the lifeguard impressed? Was he worried I would go too quickly and explode the pool? Was he jealous? Did he see me at all?

The sea monster winked at me and I waved back. They were envious. They were oblivious. They were laughing. I was water. They were screaming. I was solitarily everywhere. At the bottom of the pool was a tiny trap door, just big enough for me. I swam towards it. I hadn't been up to breathe in a while.

The kids were getting pizza after and going to the arcade. They were packing up their bags and heading out. It was time to close the pool. They wouldn't invite me. Maybe they were intimidated. Maybe they would be in a book club. Maybe they would join a commune. I opened the door and swam through into a tiny dark room, just bigger than my body. I closed the trap door above me and sat below in the darkness.