Page 18 of Absorbed

Desiree and Chad went to hose down the bathrooms; it was only fair, since they got out of drain duty. Bob was in the chemical room adding chlorine. Stacey grabbed a pair of abandoned goggles from the lost and found that looked relatively new, a pair of rubber gloves, and her towel, and headed out to the deep end.

At the side of the pool, she pulled the goggles over her eyes, then stretched, and let her towel fall onto the deck. The rising sun was warm on her back, and her skin tingled as she anticipated the coolness of the water. It was her first time swimming to the bottom of the deep end since she was a kid. Even then she’d barely touched it with her foot and quickly pushed back to the top. She wasn’t confident she could even hold her breath long enough to get the drain totally clean.

She curled her toes over the concrete edge above the “15 ft” depth marker tile. Taking a breath, she laid one hand over the other above her head, bent over, and pushed off with her feet. Her fingers broke the smooth surface of the water, and within a fraction of a second her body was submerged in the cool water in the lower part of the deep end. The pressure hurt her ears and she rebounded off the bottom without even touching the drain.

At the surface, Stacey caught her breath. Locating the drain with her eyes, she dove again, letting some air out so it wouldn’t hurt. As she reached it, she quickly scraped all ten gloved fingers across its screen to loosen the suction on the pile of waste. The water was foggy through the ill-fitting goggles, and the bubbles she let out made it even harder to know exactly what she was grabbing. But she collected everything she could in her clenched fists and kicked straight back up.

Stacey let out a gasp at the top and took a deep breath. She flipped to her back and kicked backward toward the wall, holding the sludgy debris pile above the water between her gloved hands. Her head bumped into the edge of the gutter. She turned and lifted her hands out, setting their contents on the side of the pool. It looked like mostly hair and Band-Aids, and possibly another rubber glove mixed in with a few leaves. She climbed out, then snatched the pile. She was about to drop it in a nearby trash can when something white fell to the ground.

She stood staring at the used condom, a million thoughts flowing through her mind.How did it get here? Was it a swimmer’s? Or a guard’s? Was it really used, or had someone unrolled it to make a water balloon for some stupid reason? Maybe those kids from the night before, trying to impress Jessie. If someone had sex with it, what happened to whatever was inside? Is it in the pool now? Is that a biohazard?

She cringed.“Gross.”

The image of Chad fondling Desiree’s breast on the couch the night before flashed across her mind. And Jessie tickling Melissa in the guard tower. Everyone waiting for Stacey to leave.Was that what they’d been doing? Having sex? All of them?

Coach Bob came up behind her, whistling like Andy Griffith. Stacey grabbed the condom in her gloved fist, pulled the glove off around it, and dropped it into the trashcan before he could see.

“You need help taking that out to the dumpster?” Bob asked.

“No. I got it.” She grabbed the trash bag pull ties and closed the top.

She wrapped the towel around herself, slipped on her flip flops, then pulled the bag from the can, holding the garbage far from her body. The lock rattled against the metal frame of the chain link gate as she pushed it open, then she crossed the empty parking lot, all the while only thinking about thecondom and how many of the guards were probably having sex. With one another. In the pool. She wondered if Christian-club Jessie Thomas drank beer, smoked pot, and had sex. Even with his crown of thorns tattoo and WWJD bracelet. Jessie and the cackling, feminist, track-star Melissa. She’d called him “JT” while running her fingers through his wavy blonde hair and Stacey thought she couldn’t have hated her more. Until now.

Then she thought about Desiree and Chad’s passionate parking lot kiss that first day. The lace panties. They were definitely having sex. A lot.

She was done being the odd man out everywhere she went. It was her turn. She was going to get Jessie to notice her. No matter what she had to do.

Chapter Eight

By mid-June, everyone on The Plunge staff understood their responsibilities, and (for the most part) had stopped complaining about them. Mark was an excellent mentor to the other guards in terms of his mastery at putting in minimal effort without getting in trouble with Bob. They all knew when they could cut corners on certain chores and enjoyed the extra time in the guard shack lounging away from the heat.

In her first two weeks, Stacey discovered favorite shady parking spaces based on the time of her shifts and the quickest routes for picking up fast food. Determined to prove she waschilland win over anyone at the pool, she started going on lunch runs for Bob and herself. Eventually Mark and Tiffany accepted her offers, too, and as they ate, she found ways to talk to them about music and movies.

One morning when she brought her CD organizer into the guard shack, Stacey told Mark she agreed with him about Mariah Carey’s voice being shrill, and he said she should pick something good to listen to while they cleaned. They were alltired of the Beach Boys. She chose Tom Petty’sFull Moon Feveralbum, and everyone seemed to like it. Even Bob, who had strict rules about what played over the loud speakers outside. The next day she chose Oasis, and the day after that The Eagles.

“What’s on deck for this morning’s tunes?” Chad asked Stacey as he picked up the bucket and trash-grabber from the corner.

“Singlessoundtrack.” She knew the albums made their maintenance duties tolerable, but was even more grateful it had scored her at least a few extra popularity points.

Chad gave her a quizzical look. “I can’t think of any specific music in that movie.”

“You’ve been missing out.” She selected track four.

“Oh, damn! I love ‘Dyslexic Heart.’”

She nodded, hoping it wasn’t obvious how proud she felt.

Work at The Plunge could be mind-numbing. Guards had the same daily cleaning tasks, sat in the same two towers, rotated every half hour, hour after hour, day after day. That was how Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon became their favorite game.

“Meryl Streep and Keanu Reeves,” Tiffany challenged Stacey one afternoon.

Two minutes passed before Stacey replied: “Keanu Reeves was inParenthoodwith Diane Wiest. She was inFootloosewith Kevin Bacon, and he was inThe River Wildwith Meryl Streep. Three degrees of separation.”

Whoever had the least separation points at the end of a round won, and Stacey won pretty often.

Bob allowed them their game so long as it didn’t interfere with their work. As a baseball coach, he could get on board with anything that resembled a team-building exercise, but he had zero tolerance for people being late or missing their shift without calling ahead.

Despite his warning from Bob at orientation, Jessie was late again less than two weeks into summer. By 12:28 he hadn’t arrived for his noon shift. Tiffany called him and woke him up. Considering the distance on a skateboard, the crew commented it was miraculous he managed to get there by one.

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