After I changed into my bathing suit, I dove into the water and began doing laps up and down my lane.
Swimming has always been my freedom. There’s a subtle flight or flight response to being immersed in water that never quite goes away and helps to crowd the rest of the world out. My world became the steady motion of my arms and legs, my head rising out of the water and dunking back under, tapping the wall, turning, and kicking off to move faster from one end to the other. I went all out until I was exhausted and could barely climb out of the water and wander over to flop down into a deck chair and push my goggles up onto my forehead. I kept my eyes closed to keep the bright overhead lights out of them and lay there struggling to get my wind, forcing my breathing even. After a while, when I was mostly dry and the burning in my arms and legs had faded to a dull ache, I went back to the pool and dove in.
I crashed through the water, backed against the wall and pushed off, and started swimming again. I rolled over and worked on my back stroke for a while, until I tired from that and just swam all out, trying to beat my own speed. There was a lot on my mind and I wanted it gone for a while. Midterms were coming up, I had projects due, all the usual pressures. I just needed to be free. The swimming gave me that, and I kept going until I thought I was going to cramp. I crawled out of the water and caught my breath on my hands and knees for a while, then got up and went back to the deck chair and flopped down on my towel. I was exhausted, heaving for breath, too tired to keep my eyes open. I glanced at the clock. The staff left at five and locked up, but it was only three, so I could lay there for a while.
My eyes drifted shut. The big overhead lights hurt my eyes. I pulled my goggles off and let them dangle from one hand, hanging from the arm of the chair. I heard a soft clacking sound as I lost my grip and they tapped on the floor, just before I drifted off into the dark.
When I woke up, I was curled up in the chair, turned on my side. My hair was stuck to my head, all frazzled from letting the pool water dry from it, and I stank of chlorine. I yawned and twisted in the chair and got up, my aching muscles protesting. I glanced at the clock. It was after five, which meant they just let me lay there while everyone left. The lights were out but there was enough sun coming through the skylights to see by. I started stretching, my hamstrings first, to get the ache out. I should have stretched before and after the swim but in my own way I was terribly lazy. I tried to tame my unruly hair and yawned loudly, still tired. I heard something in the distance and had a sudden feeling I was being watched. Shaking my head, I dismissed the notion. It was nothing, I assured myself, water dripping or the old building creaking.
Yawning, I threw my towel over my shoulder and headed into the locker room. Once inside I patted myself down, as if I had pockets, and realized I was missing the key to my padlock. Sighing, I laid the towel on the wooden bench and padded back out to the pool, and started looking around. A glint of light on metal caught my eye and I turned.
He must have been one of the football players. He was six feet tall if he was an inch, and dressed only in a towel, and he was twirling the lanyard the held my key on one finger, sending it spinning in slow circles that caught the sun and sent out flashes of light, like a beacon. I strode over and reached out.
“That’s mine,” I said.
The player danced back, swinging in the key out of my reach. For a man dressed in a towel, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. I stepped forward, sighing as I realized he was playing a game of keep away. I squared up my five foot four inch self, planted my fists on my hips, and looked up at him. I spoke in my best aspiring teacher voice.
“I’d like my key back, please.”
He leaned on the door fame, still twirling the key, and grinned. “How do I know it’s yours?”
“Who else would it be,” I said.
“What are you doing here? It’s after hours. Players only.”
I sighed. “I fell asleep, and the jerk lifeguard left me laying there.” I gave a little shrug. “Sorry.”
He was eyeing me, hard, his eyes moving up and down my body. The slick one piece racing suit I wore was both modest and revealing, somehow at the same time. It covered me to the neck, at least in the front, but the way it rode up from my crotch made me acutely aware of my bare legs. The suit flatted me out, which wasn’t hard, since I was lean to begin with, but he was drinking in the sight all the same, focusing especially on my legs, looking at my hips, trying to see around back to the swell of my butt. I folded my arms over my chest and scowled.
“I want to go home,” I said. “Can I have my key now?”
He nodded his head from side to side in mock contemplation. “It’s not a nice neighborhood,” he said. “It wouldn’t be very nice of us to let you walk home unescorted. Why don’t you wait around for a while? We’re just changing.”