A Summer to Remember.

I splash my face with cold water, in part to wake me up, in part to cool me down. It’s burning heat in the middle of a Staten Island summer, there’s hyped up Disney style music blaring a quarter mile down the road in a crude effort to fill the hordes of sleepy children piling out of school buses with some semblance of camp enthusiasm. My head pounds to the tune of Hannah Montana as I reach for the sun block, dabbing it on my face like a dot to dot puzzle. Hoping in vain that it’ll be enough to mask the dark circles encroaching my tired blue grey eyes, my nose glowing like a beacon I decide to go for the old school lifeguard, nose smothered in a layer of mayo look. The freckles smattering my face beginning to join up like a reverse mitosis creating a look of chaos in a crowd, I bundle my dark curly hair in a loose bun on the top of my head. Grabbing a coffee, I head up to the pool to help open up for the morning.

It’s already buzzing with life when I reach the gate, lifeguards carrying various equipment from the storage shed and setting it up around the three pools, ugly candy-striped umbrellas being wrestled in to guard chairs and long nets getting sifted through the water to collect all the bugs and leaves that have found their way in during the night. A groggy chorus of “good mornings” are echoed through the area as I make my way up to the guard house.

Opening the red graffiti stained locker from years previous, I throw in my colourful towel and bottle of water before I grab the chlorine kit and head down to test the water. It’s the same routine every morning; sleepily setting up the pool and trying to hype ourselves up for the onslaught of excited children heading our way.

There are three groups of lifeguards, the Brits, the Polish and the Americans. I fit in to the former along with 8 other girls, all of us collected from every corner of the UK. We live in very close quarters with 7 other Polish girls, all sharing a small house with a kitchen and dining area, consisting of nothing more than 2 large tables and 18 solid wooden chairs, a microwave, a fridge, a kettle and a toaster. Our bedroom, one long room lined with dark wooden floors and walls, 8 bunkbeds, 4 on each side, how you would see in military films. The only storage space given to us is one large plastic box each to slide under our beds. To say it was a little jarring at first would have been an understatement, but then we found out our shower situation.

Outdoor public showers up by the pool area, nestled comfortably in 72 acres of woodland, meaning if you didn’t shower when it was light out, you didn’t shower at all. The showers were situated within the changing rooms and consisted of 4 chrome poles sticking out of the ground, each pole having 4 shower heads around the top. On hot days this was ideal, four of us at a time would head up with speakers in hand and have ourselves a shower dance party under the sticky sunsets. On cold days however, we raced up and rinsed ourselves under the lukewarm water just long enough that goose bumps would start popping to the surface creating stubble on our freshly shaven legs.

“Everybody on the steps.” Vanissa, the head lifeguard calls out. Vanissa is small in stature and her confidence is unlike anything I have seen before, her no bullshit attitude scares the shit out of me if I’m being honest. She is equal measures stern and understanding, every inch a mother and a boss.

One of her unique methods of punishment is centred around her ‘cuss list’, if caught cussing you will be added to a list. Now, you might think ‘Okay, what’s so bad about this list?’ Well if a kid poops in the pool, guess who’s job it is to go and get it? Or when the sanitary bins in the female toilets needs emptying or if a toilet gets blocked… any number of grim jobs you can imagine, if you’re on the list, you can bet it’ll be your problem to deal with.

We all congregate, stepping over one and other and squishing in so that everyone can fit. I feel a light tug on my hair and look up to see Jayne, a tall girl with giant blue eyes and a kind smile, shuffling herself to sit behind me so that I am nestled between her legs. I lean back resting on her, knowing she hates the closeness, that I’m well and truly inside her personal bubble, she lets out a groan and tries to nudge me away lightly.

“Okay, guards, we have the JCC in for free swim all day so I’ve written out a guard rota during those periods, if you’re not on the rota, you’re expected to clean. Gosia, you’re on the boating lake this morning and Sarah will take over after lunch. JCH are lessons as normal as is 14th Street, Alex, you’ll be covering Gosia’s periods whilst she’s on the boating lake and Max, you’ll be covering Sarah’s. I don’t want to hear any complaints. Jenny,” she looks straight at me. I know she likes me because when the chef wouldn’t provide me with vegetarian food she made it her business to go out personally and get me a veggie wrap, “you’re taking over gold in period 5 because there’s been issues with the guard before you” her eyes dart to Alessio, a young guard with the physique of a Greek God, complimented only by his deep brown eyes that are so intense they make you slightly uncomfortable “okay.” It wasn’t a question. “Right, the kids will be here in 5 so everyone go where you need to go” a throwaway comment as she strides off towards the changing rooms.

I grab my laminated card with the animated starfish dancing across the top and make my way to the blue shed sat off to the side of the guard house; this being the home of all our floaties and flippers. I fill my arms and head down to the shallow pool. The air is hot and humid and I can already feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, I reach my section throwing my armful of equipment to the ground and hopping in the freezing water feeling instantly better.

“Hey Freckles,” I spin my head, squinting as the sun shines directly in my eyes, a pair of mirrored sunglasses splash in the water in front of me, “you forgot these.” Rolling my eyes, I reach down to retrieve them from the bottom of the pool as a clumsy figure drops itself in to my section.

“Thanks.” I reply sarcastically as I fix them on to my face, I glance over at Cassidy, looking every inch a New Yorker Seth Rogan, from stature to smile to the cloud of curly hair plopped on top of his head. “What are you doing in my section?”

“Oh, don’t be like that partner,” he chuckles.

I like Cassidy, he’s funny, in a sarcastic not afraid to make a fool of himself kind of way. I don’t however like working with Cassidy, in a he goofs off an doesn’t do anything, kind of way.

****************************************

We were 18 when we met, it was my first year working abroad and he had just finished his first year of college. I was nervous and timid and he was brutish and outgoing, he never tried to make me feel at ease, but he would make me laugh. I didn’t think he liked me much that first year.

When I was 19 I found myself back in the guard house, feeling excited to be there.

“Hey, Lava girls back” I turned towards the familiar voice and was pulled in to a hug that lifted me off my feet as I wiggled to be put back down. We got close that summer, some nights he’d sneak on to camp and we’d run off in to the woods and find the lone picnic bench on top of the hill and we would sit and smoke under the stars. He would show me his scars and I would show him mine.

One night at a party in the woods, Chris, a maintenance boy with dark curly hair down passed his shoulders and a beard that matched in length got a bit too comfortable with me, he slipped his hand further up my thigh until I pushed him away, when I tried to get up to leave his hand grabbed around my waist and pulled me on top of him. Cassidy was quick though, and much bigger than Chris, he stepped in between us and asked if I was okay. We drove to the beach that night, we found a scaffolding structure to climb on top of and we watched the Manhattan lights until the sun started to rise.

We stayed in touch that year once I got home. He would facetime me from his college campus, I’d help him with his homework and he would tell me what to wear on a date. He convinced me to come back to Staten Island the following summer, not that it took much.

When we were 20, the woods were silent, it was a sticky Staten Island summer, the air was thick and hung around us like a fog. The sky was clear and the moon hung in the darkness like a lighthouse leading lost ships ashore; blocked only by the dense tree line that loomed above us.

"Fuck."

A gentle laugh built in my chest, bubbling its way up until it spilled through my lips, parted only where a cigarette hung loose at the upturned corner. I felt suddenly foggy as the many shots of Tequila reached my already impaired thoughts; threatening to squeeze each unsaid word until it escaped my throat and lingered awkwardly in the still night air between us. Tentatively I grasped at the rough callous edge of the picnic table beneath me, begging it to give me stability. A light breeze combs its way through the forest carrying the smell of old aftershave and beer, I tip my head back and soak in the familiarity of the feeling.

Cassidy stretched out and lay back on the table, his shorts rode up his thigh and a dark scratchy line poked out the bottom, instinctively I reached down and traced the smooth line with my fingers.

“When did you get a tattoo?” I drew my fingers further up his leg to reveal a crude depiction of a bird.

I could hear the smile in his voice “my friend gave me it before we broke up for the summer.”

“A bird?” I laughed “since when have you been such a big fan of birds?” At this he chuckled.

“I’m not, not really.” He glanced over at me, “you can’t laugh okay?”

I feigned shock “I would never” holding my three fingers up “scouts honour.”

“You’re an idiot” he sat up, now looking at the tattoo himself “it’s a Barn Owl. My friend’s obviously not the best artist is he? He’s from California and his family descend from a tribe called the Newuks, and in their history they believed after death the wicked were doomed to become barn owls, they're also super unlucky in like, most cultures. So the bastard hand poked Jerry, that’s what we call him, when I was black out drunk and now I’ve grown quite fond of him” the edges of his mouth twitch as he looks at me. The second I caught his eye we both burst in to laughter.

“I like him too.”

When I turned 21 he video called me at home and sang a dreadful rendition of Happy Birthday, the Marylin Monroe version, down the phone to me. “You’re going to come back this year, aren’t you?” He begged.

“Cassidy, you have no idea how much I want to but I need to find a real job here” and it was true, I spent all year working in bars in England to save up and spend the summer in New York, then I would go home broke and repeat the cycle.

“Come on Jen, it won’t be the same without you. We’ll make this our last year, trust me, it'll be a summer to remember” and that’s all it took. I called Vanissa and booked a flight.

**************************************************

Tippy tapping of tiny feet gets louder and louder until we have 16 of them dangling in the water in front of us. I hand the register to Cassidy and he rattles the names off as I lower each of the children in to the water.

Our section is shallow and a lot of the kids don’t like getting their faces wet, so it’s a game of throwing toys to the bottom and encouraging them underwater.

One little girl in particular, Lucy, she’s taller than the rest, with long rust coloured hair; she clutches on to me, clearly terrified of getting her eyes wet. I lower myself on to my knees so just my head and neck is poking out of the water and guide her round the pool with me, gently coaxing her to reach deeper and deeper for the little toy turtles on the bottom on the pool, her face never getting wet past her chin. An almighty wave rushes over mine and Lucy’s heads, I spin around just in time to see Cassidy, pool floaty in hand shovelling up another tsunami of water and throw it in our direction. Instinctively I turn away shielding Lucy as best I can, but it’s already too late. The terrified girl’s arms are like a vice around my neck and she’s violently crying in to my shoulder. I stand up and place her on the edge of the pool and wipe her face with her towel, which she wraps around her little body signalling the end of that lesson for her today. In an effort to cheer her up I grin at her and mouth ‘watch this’, I then spin on my heels and grab my own floaty as well as 3 more for some of the other kids. I gather a little army whilst Cassidy’s back is turned and count to three, signalling for everyone to send floods of water his way. He immediately turns and makes a beeline for me, all the children laughing and causing chaos splashing anyone and everyone in their eyeline, I turn to try and make an unsuccessful escape, feeling like I'm running in honey, a giant hand closes around the top of my arm and pulls me in closer. Without a second’s hesitation Cassidy has swept me up and is cradling me like a baby, the class has turned on both us and we’re being attacked from every angle. Cassidy collapses his knees and thrusts me underwater, I’m brought back up, discombobulated and gasping for air, my sunglasses now hanging off my face at a flustered angle. Looking up at his face, I know this isn’t the end. Twice more he throws me underwater and drags me back up like some sick form of torture, all the children in fits of laughter and Cassidy now joining in with them. Just as he’s about to go for another dunk an alarm blares out, we look at each other and he gently sets me back down.

“THIS IS A CODE RED, THIS IS A CODE RED” I look up and see a police helicopter circling the camp grounds, getting lower and lower until I can make out the faces of the people in it. Panic floods through me, this isn’t a drill. Code red - active shooter on camp grounds. I look over and Cassidy is already out the pool and helping some of the other children out.

“Okay kids, class is over, time to get out and go straight to the changing rooms now please.” I hear myself saying, my brain goes in to automatic as I try not to show how scared I am; even if my heart feels as though it could break a rib, I make my way over to the edge of the pool, scooping up any child I come across and lifting them out. I climb out and scan around me, making sure there’s no one else around, the helicopter still circling lower, I prick my ears, I would have heard a shot by now? Cassidy is gone, I glance up to the guard house with the changing rooms on either side and hear a loud pop behind me, my feet start moving, the guards are filing the children in through their respective doors as fast as they can. Two more pops and I’m at the foot of the steps, everyone is in their allocated safe areas and the doors are locked behind them. Shit. "Jen" firm comforting arms slide around my waist and we run in to the guard house and slam the wooden door behind us pushing the slide lock closed. Letting out a breath I crumble to the floor "I thought you left me." I whisper. Cassidy falls to the ground next to me and crawls under Vanissa's desk, wrapping his arms around my waist he pulls me in to him.

The loud blaring alarm still ringing out, louder in here, drowning out any more shots. I am extremely aware of the windows lining the outside of the guard house and am trying to make myself as small as I can, tucking myself out of reach of the light draping in. I scan the room looking for anything I could use to hide us further or maybe protect us with. There’s nothing, the concrete floor cold and unforgiving against my bare skin.

A figure passes by the window, casting a shadow, it creeps closer and closer to where my toes meet the edge of light being cast in. I hold my breath, feeling tears rolling down my cheeks. Cassidy's grip on me tightens.

I haven't been this frightened since I was 8 years old hiding from the monsters that lurked under my bed, only emerging when the dark night drew in. I pull my foot closer to me, afraid the monster might grab it if given the chance.

The alarms have stopped blaring through the speakers, everything is deathly silent. The door rattles, just once and my breath hitches in my throat. The shadow on the floor gets bigger, wider, closer. I look up towards the window; my eyes lock with his.

'A summer to Remember' I think.