The Happenstances at the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club the Summer Before Last

by Peter Harmon

  •••

  At day’s end, The Hot Mom pulled on a pair of high-waisted, stone-washed jeans that to everyone’s surprise had come back into style, no one would have guessed that, and gathered her stuff into a tote. As she left she waved at Jonathan, who was spraying crud off of the deck chairs.

  Bill approached him. “You heading out?

  “Yep, really soon. I want to finish cleaning up first.”

  “Okay, see you dude.” Bill turned to leave but stopped and turned back to Jonathan. “I’m worried.”

  “Don’t worry, this nacho cheese always comes right off the metal with a little elbow grease. And I just got a whole tub of the stuff from the store.” Jonathan smiled.

  “Not about the deck chairs, Jonathan. Well, not just about the deck chairs, but where the deck chairs are.”

  “Gotcha, hose down the deck, too. Not a problem.”

  “No, Jon, the whole pool. I’m afraid the board might try something totally unrighteous.

  •••

  Bill sat with other members of the pool board behind a long rectangular table in a dark back boardroom of the Yellow County Community Center. The only distinguishable one of them was June Summers, who looked like ten pounds of potatoes in an eight-pound bag, her fat face flushed red. For the rest of them, only their hands were visible—very Bond villainesque. Truth be told, they were only shrouded in darkness because that other light switch that controls half of the fluorescent lights was on the fritz again, and the maintenance man, Mr. John, hadn’t gotten a chance to tinker with it, but still, the effect it created was ominous as heck.

  Bill, in a black T-shirt with a graphic of a zombie in a nurse’s uniform, sat on the opposite side of the table facing them defiantly as June ran the meeting.

  “Next item on the agenda,” she said, “do we turn the pool over to a management company or continue to be community run?”

  Bill couldn’t hold his tongue. “We provide jobs to nearly every teen in town. If it wasn’t for our pool, those kids would be sexting and driving and doing bath salts for all we know. And they shouldn’t do that until they’re retired. All I want is to keep the family atmosphere where all the workers know your name and your mother’s name.”

  “A management company will increase our profits exponentially,” June rebutted.

  The shrouded board murmured approval.

  “How I see it…”—June began to daydream—“we’ll have vending machines instead of that awful snack bar, rows of brightly lit automatons instead of the slack-jawed junkies that currently manage that grease trap. Wonderfully muscled professional lifeguards. And a decorative fountain right where the high dive is.”

  Bill grimaced. “That sounds like that godforsaken Brown Town Hall and Recreation.”

  June smiled. “Yes…yes, it does.”

  The shrouded board chuckled sinisterly.

  June continued, “We’ll raise membership fees and start catering to the folks from the city who actually have money and weed out the deadbeat community.”

  “No way,” Bill shouted. “I will never turn the pool I love into a profit whore for the yuppie scum you’re trying to attract.”

  “Oh, you will; one day you will. With how our finances are looking, you’re going to have to sooner than you could imagine.”

  “Over my dead body. This meeting is adjourned.” Bill stormed toward the door, knocking over a water cooler in the process. He put one leg up on the plastic bottle and launched into a killer air-guitar solo as the gallons of water glugged out.

  •••

  Bill took a breath. “Hell’s bells, I’m glad I got that off my chest.”

  Jonathan stared at Bill wide-eyed, but Bill continued. “Don’t worry, as long as I’m alive and raising h-e-double diving boards those rat bastards aren’t gonna touch us, trust me. I love this place too much not to fight for it.” And with that he put on his headphones and pressed play on his cassette deck. He walked away playing the air guitar but paused to give Jonathan the “horns” over his shoulder. Jonathan waved politely and continued hosing down the deck.

  Charlie was around the corner of the lifeguard office clocking out. He had heard the whole conversation. He stood, timecard in hand, brow furrowed.

  CHAPTER 6

  A FEW DAYS later, a storm blew in. The rain made little dimples in the pool water’s surface, then it began to pour like buckets from heaven. Thunder bellowed, and Matt blew his whistle. Patrons scattered to get their belongings before they were soaked. The Hot Mom, who had been lying on her belly, bikini top undone to get sun on her tan line, got up with a start and held her still-unclasped top to her bosom as she rushed to gather her things.

  Jonathan surveyed the darkening sky through the guard office window. He looked out and saw Bill holding a massive umbrella, from one of the wooden picnic tables, over the heads of a bunch of little kids. Jonathan got on the loudspeaker to make an announcement.

  The speaker crackled with static as Jonathan cleared his throat and began, “Attention, testing, testing. One, two, three. One, two, three, testing one, testing two, testing three. Testing one, two, three. Attention testing. Attention one…”

  Judas was reclining in a chair, watching Rich B Words on his smartphone. He paused the vid to yell in Jonathan’s direction, “Bro! It works.”

  Jonathan, still over the loudspeaker, replied, “I just wanted to make sure. Okay, folks, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to close down for at least forty minutes after the last sighting of lightning or sound of thunder. That means we’ll hopefully be opening back up at about three fifty.”

  Thunder roared.

  “Three fifty one.”

  The thunder and lightning continued.

  “Oh, never mind. Pool is closed. We’ll reopen tomorrow.”

  The crowd of families began to leave, grumbling.

  Florence ran around the courts, trying to gather tennis balls in a metal basket. The basket tipped, scattering the balls. Lightning flashed.

  “Ugh, whatever.” She ran toward the gate, her shoes making prints in the softening clay.

  Charlie turned off some fuses in the box by the door as Roheed tied off the top of a large black garbage bag.

  “May I have a ride home?” Roheed asked.

  “Sure, your sister’s got the car again?”

  “My father has it this time.”

  Charlie checked his watch and said mostly to himself, “Whatever. I can’t really go home yet anyway.”

  “What?”

  Thunder crashed.

  “Nothing. Here, meet me in the car. I have to put the cash in the safe,” Charlie said as he picked up the cashbox and ran out into the rain.

  Judas reclined in a chair in the guard office, sipping a beer. Charlie came in with the cashbox and unlocked the safe. Jonathan stepped in, soaking wet.

  “Aren’t you going to help clean up?” Jonathan asked.

  Judas took a gulp of his brew. “Nope.”

  “We need your help. Bill is down there doing your job.”

  “I’m drinking beer, come on,” he pointed to his can.

  “Judas!” Jonathan’s anger flared up for just a moment before he caught himself. “Go home, we’ll manage without you.”

  “Stellar, bro.” Judas put the lip of the beer can between his teeth as he put on his official Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club poncho, size XL, for Xtra Large rain protection. As he exited the guard office, he lightly bumped shoulders with Jonathan. Jonathan just shook his head and walked out onto the pool deck.

  He looked over the railing and saw that Bill was already down by the pool, moving chairs under an awning near the high diving board. His headphones were turned all the way up. Thunder and lightning boomed and zipped.

  Jonathan yelled, “Bill, hey, Bill! Come on up here. The storm is getting too crazy.” But his words were lost in the wind.

  Lightning struck a tree branch near Jonathan and set it ablaze. Charlie exited the guard office to see what all
the commotion was about. The tree branch fell. Jonathan dove and pushed Charlie out of the way as the wood splintered around them.

  Another tree blew down and rocked the high dive. The board shuddered, and wire supports unsnapped from the structure.

  Bill continued to rock out while his headphones blared.

  A gust of wind blew the shuddering board completely off its support.

  Charlie looked to Bill, then whipped his head to Jonathan, who had jumped up and taken off toward Bill. He ran down the steps from the guard office to the pool but was still too far to help, and he knew it.

  Quietly, “No, Bill,” escaped his lips.

  Bill, unaware, slowly made his way across the pool deck. Jonathan looked away as the wind howled and the diving board toppled. Bill finally looked up and gasped, his eyes widening. The board fell on top of him, pinning his neck to the concrete, the snap not loud enough to be heard over the whooshing wind.

  Jonathan ran through the sideways rain to Bill’s side and heaved the massive board off of him.

  He checked Bill’s pulse. There was none.

  Before the emotion hit him, Jonathan took two fingers and closed Bill’s eyes. Then he took Bill’s right hand in his and bent Bill’s pointer and pinky fingers up into an eternal rock-on devil’s horns position. He did the same with Bill’s other hand and folded his arms over his chest. Heavy metal.

  Charlie covered his mouth with his hand.

  Jonathan then let himself break down as the storm continued around him, the blue fabric from what was left of the high diving board flapping in the wind like a truce flag in a war that was never meant to be won.

  •••

  Dark clouds floated ominously above the dreary cemetery. A funeral procession band played “Stairway to Heaven” on horns in a deep, melancholy tone. A tuba blarted along.

  Jonathan stood solemnly in a suit, with his lifeguard polo underneath a wrinkled dark jacket, his whistle dangling from around his neck on its usual red lanyard. Roheed wore a dark suit, Charlie a full-length black trench coat, and Florence was in a black designer dress and huge designer sunglasses. She texted casually.

  Judas wore a black suit with a backward baseball cap and sipped a beer. Other patrons of the Swim and Racquet Club had shown up, too, along with a small moshpit’s amount of old metal heads and Bill’s now college aged grandson.

  Jonathan was overcome with emotion before the eulogy was given. He ran from the funeral, through the cemetery and out the gate, and down residential streets until he reached the club.

  He ran to the side of the pool and pulled off his suit pants, revealing that he was wearing his bathing suit underneath. As he started to tear up, he took a pair of goggles out of his suit jacket pocket. A single tear escaped before he could get them over his eyes. He stripped off his jacket and polo and dove into the pool, furiously swimming a lap across. He didn’t pop his head out of the water to take a breath even once.

  When he reached the other side, he got out and took off his goggles. They were full of tears. He sat, crying, on the pool’s edge.

  CHAPTER 7

  JONATHAN SAT AT one end of a long table in a law office. The Pool Board was there, and even though the room was well lit, on the other side of the table, they sat shrouded in darkness, only June recognizable. This time, however, Mr. John couldn’t be blamed. This time, the board was shrouded in whispers and deceit, and blackout curtains that kept the particular area where they were sitting quite dim.

  At the head of the table, an older gent, parrotesque in appearance, Kenneth Strangleman, was perched reading from a folder through his thick glasses. The plaque in front of him showed his name and read Estate Lawyer.

  June was impatient. “I’ve got to go pick up my kids. Can you please hurry up and tell us how the board will continue running the complex, and then we can all get out of here?”

  Strangleman responded without looking up from the documents. “Hold on. I’m almost done with this paragraph…and…done. What now?”

  June gestured to Jonathan. “Why is he here? He’s just a lifeguard who, I might add, didn’t do a very good job guarding Bill’s life, did he?”

  The shrouded board members chuckled vilely. Jonathan put his head down.

  “Yes, this is very, very interesting. Very interesting indeed,” Strangleman murmured.

  “What?” June asked.

  Strangleman held up a magazine, a random animal periodical he had in the folder on top of the documents. “Did you know that dolphins are one of the few animals other than humans known to mate for reasons other than reproduction?”

  “Strangleman!” June yelled.

  “Oh, right, the will. It seems that William has made Jonathan his heir.”

  Jonathan and June burst out at the same time, “What!?”

  The board members rabbled.

  Strangleman pounded a larger than average gavel on the table. “Be still. It’s in Bill’s will that Jonathan take over his fifty-one percent share of the Swim and Racquet Club.”

  “Fifty-one percent?” Jonathan said. “What are you talking about?”

  Strangleman continued, “Bill won the majority share of the club in a high stakes game of canasta years ago. From me, actually. And I never forgave the bastard for it. I’m glad he’s dead.”

  Strangleman spat on the floor but in the same breath said, “May he rest in peace. Anyway, you, Jonathan, are now the acting owner and caretaker of the pool, the snack bar, the tennis courts, and the tanning deck.”

  June put up her hand but did not wait to be called on. “What about the tetherball area?”

  Strangleman replied, “Especially the tetherball area.”

  The shrouded board collectively gasped.

  Jonathan piped up, “But look, Strangle Man.”

  “It’s Strangleman.”

  “Sorry, Strangle Man. I don’t know anything about running a pool.”

  Strangleman referred to a piece of paper in the folder. “It says in the personal letter from Bill that you have been doing exactly that for the past fifteen years.”

  June waved her hands as if swatting away the idea. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t own anything after this season. Add the current debt and now the cost of replacing the high dive, and what do you have?”

  Jonathan answered glumly, “No more summers.”

  June said, “No, you idiot. It means that you won’t be able to make the profit we need to keep the club community run. You’ll be forced to hire a pool management company like we’ve always wanted. Stuff that in your sack, Samantha.”

  The board murmured excitedly.

  Strangleman nodded. “I’m afraid what she’s saying might be true, Samantha.”

  Jonathan began to rise from his chair. “My name isn’t Samantha. And I agree. We will be run by a management company…”

  June smiled for the first time in her life but immediately turned her frown right side up when Jonathan continued with, “Over my dead body!!”

  Jonathan stormed toward the door, awkwardly knocking over the water cooler in defiance on his way out.

  •••

  The pool was shut down. A sign hung out front that read, Closed until further notice!! (Not sure why there were exclamation points on that one, but hey, artistic license, right?)

  Jonathan stood in the lifeguard corral, telling a lively story in front of Charlie, Roheed, Florence, Judas, Jill Bateman, and a handful of other staff members who sat at the umbrellaed wooden tables.

  “And then I said ‘over my dead body, Strangle Man.’ And then I started to strangle Bill’s estate lawyer, and I said ‘who’s the strangle man now?!’ ”

  Roheed, amazed, said, “Wow.”

  Jonathan admitted, “The last part wasn’t true, but still you get the gist of it.”

  “Right, so we’re getting shut down,” Judas remarked.

  Charlie looked up with hope. “No we won’t. Jonathan was just about to tell us his big plan, right?”

  Jonathan looked ba
ck to Charlie. “My plan?”

  “Yeah, the plan you’ve already devised to get us the money to cover our debts and get a new diving board. You already have that plan drawn up and ready right? And…go.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t have a plan. I was hoping you guys were going to have some ideas.”

  No one did.

  Charlie spoke after a few moments. “Roheed, how much have you made playing Internet poker?”

  “Four thousand, eight hundred, thirty-six dollars, and sixty-nine cents.”

  Judas snickered. “Sixty-nine, nice.”

  “That’ll at least cover the new board, right?” Charlie asked.

  But Roheed continued, “That’s what my earnings had been until yesterday when I blew it all on a huge bluff. My poker face did not translate via the Internet.”

  “Oh, okay. Well I don’t have enough money for the first semester of film school yet, so I can’t help.” Charlie looked around.

  “I would sell my body, but I’m saving it for marriage,” Jill offered, then looked at Charlie and mouthed “to you.”

  “That’s quite a range you’ve got, either prostitution or abstinence,” Roheed smirked.

  “I don’t do anything halfway,” Jill said, and looked at Charlie again. “Anything…” Then she made a circle with one hand and stuck out the pointer finger of the other, then poked the center of the circle with her pointer halfway, but quickly pulled it out of the circle, wagged it back and forth in a no-no fashion, then stuck the pointer all the way through the circle, in and out, several times.

  Charlie, creeped out, nodded, “I get it.”

  “Dues just went up in my frat,” Judas said. “I’m tapped like a keg on a Thursday afternoon. What about Regina Rich over there?” He pointed to Florence.

  She stopped texting momentarily. “My assets are frozen until I finish my community service.”

  Judas whispered to Matt Hedge, “I’d like to warm her assets up.”

  Charlie, already knowing the answer, asked, “What did you get arrested for again?”