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

by Peter Harmon

  Art broke the silence. “You know, son, your mother and I were gracious enough to let you stay at our house this summer for free while you took an internship that would look good on your college applications.”

  Charlie went into BS mode. “And I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate—”

  Art stopped the BS mobile before Charlie could even get out of BS first gear. “However, that doesn’t seem to be the case at all.”

  “What?”

  “Come on, Charlie, the charade has gone on long enough. Open up that ridiculous coat.”

  “My coat?”

  Art stood up from the table and approached Charlie. “And the worst thing is, I called that godforsaken Community Swim Club last night, and your mentor answered the phone. Or should I say manager?” He ripped open Charlie’s coat and exposed that Charlie was wearing a bathing suit and his YCCSRC T-shirt, size M, for the SMedium amount of dignity he had left.

  “It’s casual Friday,” Charlie offered.

  “It’s Saturday,” Art said. “Starting Monday you’re in the mailroom of my office every day until college starts.”

  “I don’t know when that will be because I…” Charlie spoke quietly, “haven’t finished my applications yet.”

  Hilda gasped.

  “What?” Art said.

  “I don’t have a writing sample to get into film school.”

  “You won’t even be attending school in the fall?”

  “Maybe if they accept really late applications.”

  “Mailroom starting Monday. And you will be paying rent starting at the end of the month.” Art was heated.

  So was Charlie. “I’m not working at your office, or any other office for that matter, and I’m sure as hell not paying rent to live in my parents’ house. I’m going to the pool.”

  “Don’t expect to live here while you’re still working at that dead-end.”

  “It might not be there after today anyway. I’m out of here.”

  “Give back your mother’s car keys, too.”

  “Fine,” Charlie yelled. He threw the keys onto the table and stormed out of the kitchen. In his room Charlie threw some stuff in a backpack and hoisted his huge typewriter under his arm. He slammed the front door behind him when he left.

  Charlie trudged down the block with his load. Florence pulled up beside him, her car crawling as he walked.

  “Hey, what’s with the typewriter?”

  “I just got kicked out of my parents’ house basically forever.”

  “Aren’t you pretty old anyway?”

  “I guess,” Charlie said. “Not really. I’m only eighteen.”

  “Ew.” Florence grimaced.

  “Whatever. Let’s just get to this relay race so you can lose it and I can be homeless and sleep outside the Lincoln Memorial and write lousy poetry on this typewriter and then eventually have to use the paper to wipe myself.”

  “Okay,” Florence said, but stopped and let Charlie in the car anyway.

  •••

  Florence pulled up to the club. Other cars were already starting to arrive for the relay race, with license plates from such exotic locales as Virginia and Delaware. Swim teams from around the Tri-Counties and beyond were showing up in minivans wearing matching warm-up suits, goggles dangling from their necks.

  Roheed was already there, standing by Jonathan in the guard office as Florence and Charlie walked in. Jonathan was taping up his box of belongings.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

  Jonathan didn’t make eye contact. “I’ve been fired. I have to be out of here by the end of the day.”

  “Aren’t you the majority owner though?” Charlie asked. “Why do you have a toothbrush here?”

  “Well,” Jonathan said sheepishly, “it seems that even a fifty-one percent owner isn’t allowed to secretly live on the pool grounds. The club just isn’t zoned for it.”

  “You’ve been living here?” Florence asked, wide-eyed.

  Jonathan nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Ew.” Florence grimaced—again.

  “I always wondered how you got here so early,” Charlie mused.

  Jonathan hoisted the box. “So I guess I’ll be going now, never to return again.”

  “Maybe I’ll come too,” Charlie said dreamily. “We could get an apartment together. Or at least share a tent behind the Lincoln Memorial. I’ve got a ream of toilet paper in my bag.”

  “Now wait just a minute, everybody,” Roheed piped up. “Jonathan, you said you have to be out by the end of the day, correct?”

  “So?” Jonathan said.

  “Only employees can participate in the race, Roheed.” For some reason, Florence knew this.

  Roheed continued, “Jonathan is still an employee until the end of the work day. Why not go out in a blaze of glory? Sure, we all may or may not be homeless and jobless tomorrow, but let’s have one little taste of freedom before our lives go to hell. I have to go to college in a few weeks where God knows I’ll be a complete loser. Florence will have to go back to…well, I guess being a sweet, wealthy, beautiful heiress with a popular Internet-based web show—”

  “Sweet?” Florence perked up.

  But Roheed kept right on going, “… who might have to fold clothes at the Salvation Army for a few days. And Charlie will have to take the Metro into DC and make friends with an already-established hobo who can protect him from the nightly hobo wars on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. And Jonathan, you’ll finally have to find a real job and stop living in a fantasy world of night swimming and public showers. And Judas…where’s Judas?”

  No one knew, but you know that thing where someone asks a question and no one knows the answer, but no one wants to be the one that says “I don’t know” out loud, so everyone just kind of looks around and no one says anything, so the question just hangs there like Mr. Cooper until everyone just sort of moves on? Well, that happened.

  Jonathan crinkled up his forehead into his thinkin’ face. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we suit up and take back this place that we love.”

  Charlie put a fist up in the air. “Yeah!”

  Jonathan looked over at Charlie, grinning wide. “Does that mean you’re joining the team, Charlie?”

  Charlie’s fist was still raised. “No!” He dropped the fist. “I don’t swim, but thank you. I’m gonna go turn on the fryers and make some money and get us out of debt.”

  “Dang,” Jonathan said, then looked around. “Alright, where is Judas?”

  CHAPTER 18

  EVERY YEAR THE Tri-County Relay Race was a grand affair. In fact, the very name Tri-County was a misnomer, a holdover from the days when just the counties Yellow, Prince George’s and Montgomery competed. Today, nearly nine counties were represented, but the Tri-County Council had deliberated and decided that naming the race the Nona-County Relay Race would be a mistake. And they thought that maybe they would rethink the title once the tenth county threw their swim cap into the pool, because Deca-County sounded pretty sweet. They were big nerds, by the way.

  To accommodate the race, the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club was, as Chris Brown might say, on and poppin’. Red, white and blue flags hung across the width of the pool, two rows, so that savvy backstrokers would know how many strokes they had left before their hands would hit the wall on that final stretch. Vendors were set up around the property. Vivian Smythe, of course, was present, with her goddamned dog manicure business, as per usual, wearing a sweatsuit with something written on the butt, hair pulled back, big sunglasses on. Someone was making funnel cakes because, duh, and Kumari’s mom’s shaved ice booth was nestled next to the snack bar. Families threw down blankets and towels and chairs and set up shop for an afternoon of healthy competition.

  The teams in the relay race, Brown Town included, were starting to stretch near the pool. Fans congregated in sections to cheer on their club’s teams. An announcer’s desk had been set up near t
he guard office—basically a card table hooked up to a PA system. Two announcers, Chip Caldwell and Chad Chatterson, sat behind their microphones.

  Chip and Chad were local podcasters, their most popular pod was a recap show where they discussed the latest installment of Rich B Words. They had a small but loyal following, and since they always offered to emcee the event for free and brought their own mics, there they were.

  “Great turnout today here at the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club, eh, Chad?”

  “You got that right, Chip. All the teams seem to be in rare form, but I think all eyes are going to be focusing on the Brown and Yellow in the water today.”

  “Yes sir, Chad, the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club and the Brown Town Hall and Recreation teams look as if they are in top physical condition.”

  The Brown Town team stood in its matching brown swimsuits, muscles glistening in the sun. Jonathan stood eating a hot dog. Roheed self-consciously crossed his arms over his skinny chest.

  Jonathan looked over at Roheed. “Seriously, where is Judas?”

  Roheed pointed across the way. “Is that him?”

  It was indeed! Judas walked over to the Brown Town team and shook hands with Carmichael Schmelps. Judas and the Browns approached Jonathan, Florence and Roheed.

  “What are you doing?” Jonathan asked Judas.

  Judas cackled. “I work for Brown Town Hall and Recreation. I’ve been a spy for them all along…and also a third-shift lifeguard.”

  “Judas, you betrayed us?”

  “They can actually give me a paycheck, which I need for my fraternity dues. They also gave me thirty Bacardi Silvers.” Judas kissed Jonathan on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “Forgive me.”

  Jonathan pushed Judas away. “What are we going to do now?”

  Channan was already at the announcers’ table, alerting Chip and Chad of the situation.

  “Well, Chad, it seems that the Yellow County Community Team is going to have to bow out of the competition, seeing as they don’t have enough swimmers.”

  “Golly, I love it when you’re right, Chip. A complete relay racing team is four swimmers. It must really burn, too, being at your own pool and not being able to compete.”

  “Burn it must, Chad, burn it must. And as my favorite recording artist once said, famously, ‘You have got to let it burn.’”

  All was lost in that moment for our heroes. It was over. Only right then did Jonathan realize he was actually done living at the pool. He had thought that by some stroke of luck his team would win the race, and that the prize money would keep the club on track, that June would forgive him. But uh, yeah, nah.

  Roheed looked at Florence. She was pissed that she was going to have to finish her community service at a non-poolside location, but actually, when she thought about it, she was actually more mad that she wasn’t going to get to compete with her, dare she say, friends. And Roheed, because he had low self-esteem, thought about what he should have done better to prevent this from happening.

  But then Charlie grabbed Chip’s mic off of the table. “Actually, Chip, the Yellow County Team has four swimmers. Sign me up, boys.” He dropped the mic, to both Chip’s and Chad’s dismay.

  Chad looked at Chip. “Chip, do we look like the registration table?”

  Chip readjusted his mic. “No, we do not, Chad. If that young man would like to race, he is going to have to first adjust his attitude, then make his way to the registration table by the shuffleboard area….”

  Chip and Chad continued as Charlie walked down the steps to the pool deck where the rest of his team was standing.

  “You haven’t been training,” Florence said.

  “And you don’t swim,” Roheed added.

  “I’ve never seen you in the water in all the years I’ve worked here,” Jonathan said.

  Charlie looked at them solemnly. “I don’t need to train. And you are correct, I don’t usually swim…because of these.” He took off his shoes and revealed his webbed toes.

  Susan Hark screamed, “They’re hideous!”

  Charlie ignored her. “I was born with webbed toes. They’re embarrassing but they’re like natural flippers.”

  “You’re self-conscious about your toes?” Florence asked.

  “Yeah,” Charlie said. “They’re weird.”

  The Tri-County official, who was quiet earlier in the day, was now in his element, feeling a little frisky. “Okay, everybody,” he said, then looked at Charlie. “Frogger.”

  Charlie nodded, of course.

  The official continued, “Let’s get ready to race. I want a good clean race…which is going to be hard with Yellow and Brown in the pool!” A wide smiled cracked his face.

  Chad jumped onto his mic. “I already made that joke earlier.”

  CHAPTER 19

  LOOK, I COULD bore you with the details of the rest of the races that day, but we both know that the only relay that really mattered was Yellow County and Brown Town in the final heat, the main event, the grudge match, the ultimate, uh, thing! Moms who had been gossiping about the latest so and sos doing such and such, and even the dads who had been checking up on their fantasy baseball teams during their own sons’ events, perked up. There was true competition in the air, and all humans can sense that.

  Chad, sweating from the heat, choked up on the mic in anticipation. “Alright, Chip, folks, time for the real deal.”

  There were several other teams from other towns and cities that looked way less competitive than Yellow and Brown, but they had less on the line. They didn’t want it, nay, need it like YCCSRC and BTHR did. Jonathan and Carmichael were poised, ready to dive in.

  Chip quipped, “Chad, it seems that Brown Town Hall is making a surprise roster change.”

  Channan stood next to Shannon and Judas. “Okay, Judas. Good luck.”

  “Thanks, bro,” Judas said. They slapped an intricate high-five.

  Channan gave Shannon a “more than friends” kiss on the lips and ended it with a smack on her rump. Then he bowed out of the competition.

  “Thanks, bro,” Shannon said.

  Judas tried his best to ignore the whole thing. He wasn’t going to be the one to begin to unpack that creepy suitcase.

  And then the crowd began to cheer, because this was it. The official gave the “on your mark” signal. He brought his arm down and blew a short blast on his whistle. Jonathan and Carmichael dove into the water and swam furiously. Carmichael got to the end of the lane first and did an effortless underwater flip turn. He began to blaze back down the lane toward his team. Jonathan got to the wall soon after Carmichael, but a sloppy non-flip turn cost him valuable seconds. He regained control and powered back. Carmichael got to the end of his lane first and touched the wall.

  Susan Hark dove in with precision and began to cut through the water with her surgically enhanced dorsal finned back. Jonathan tapped the wall and Florence dove in. She gracefully swam to the end and back but lost even more ground to Hark.

  The other relay teams were way behind, an afterthought in the mind of the crowd.

  Judas looked over at Charlie before their teammates touched the wall. “Good luck, you duck-footed freak.”

  Charlie squinted into the distance. “Is that an underaged girl with a Smirnoff Ice?”

  Judas looked and saw that there was no underaged girl with a Smirnoff Ice. He cursed himself for looking. The distraction gave Charlie a chance to dive in before Judas, even though Hark touched the wall before Florence. Charlie kicked his webbed feet like flippers and completed his lap in no time. Judas was quick but Charlie bought Yellow County valuable seconds.

  Charlie tapped the wall and Roheed jumped into the pool. His goggles flipped up and water poured in. He corrected them as best as he could and started swimming. He was unsure and clumsy, quickly losing Charlie’s gained seconds. Soon Shannon caught up and passed Roheed. She got to the other end of the pool and flip-turned with ease. She began her final leg. The crowd began to roa
r. Roheed reached the wall at the other end of the pool and turned around. Shannon was nearly halfway back to her team.

  “It looks like Brown Town may have clinched this one, Chip.”

  “Clinched like my butt cheeks right now, Chad. Clinched like my butt cheeks.”

  “Indeed.”

  Charlie watched in horror. In that moment he knew that Yellow County was destined to lose, and shoot, he was going to have to work in his dad’s mailroom. And he wasn’t going to get into a film program; he was going to be one of those guys in his forties trying to get you to read his screenplay and talking about the web series he was trying to fund through Kickstarter. He hadn’t written anything in his life, really, and all his ideas were trite, and…wait.

  Charlie clicked on a little light bulb that happened to be hanging above his head at that moment. He turned to Florence, who was equally forlorn. “I have an idea. Florence, scream.”

  “What?” Florence was confused.

  “I’m not the one who should be telling you this, but Roheed loves you in an almost, but not quite, creepy way. Remember how fast he was when you got stung?”

  Florence nodded.

  “Scream.”

  “Okay, um…” Florence began, half-speed, “Roheed! Help?”

  “Louder,” Charlie coached, “like you mean it.”

  “Help. Help! Roheed, help me, save me! I slipped and hit my head on the wall!”

  Roheed looked up. Water obscured his vision. All he saw was a blurry blob waving its arm-shapes, but he heard Florence’s voice.

  “I’ll save you, Florence,” he said to himself, but also out loud, but he was underwater, so it just sounded like bubble-garble. Roheed kicked hard and swam literally like he’d never swam before. He caught up to Shannon at the last second.

  Their hands hit the wall at the same time.

  “It’s too close to call from up here, Chad.”

  “Someone needs to get us the results, Chip.”

  “I concur, Chad.”

  Roheed jumped out of the water and tore off his goggles. He was confused to see Florence on dry land, perfectly fine, smiling.