The Way I Used To Be

one

Saturday. April 4, 1989.

I was at Lake Erie that day. And at three in the afternoon, with the sun hiding behind the clouds. I was at a small corner of the Lake, trying my hardest to relax as I was letting the water buoy my body just above the surface. When all of a sudden, a whistle blew. I groaned and opened my eyes, glancing at the place where the noise came from.

The local swim team was here for their weekly practice with Robert, their coach. A muscular man with a French mustache, the kind that rolled off at the ends, which made it the funniest mustache I have ever seen and a voice that seemed to come from a loudspeaker. Robert was sitting at the guard chair, club sandwich in hand, and yelling swimming jargon that I couldn't understand to his team.

I loved hanging out at the lake, the only thing I did there was watch the swim team perform their drills and try to swim laps. Sometimes, the swimmers would talk to me but most times, I would float, my body laying on the surface of the water as the sun rays hit my face, or I would stay underwater and hold my breath for as long as I can.

That day, Robert was in a mood. He paced back and forth along the edge of the lake, and around the guard chair. Watching them swim and commenting on their techniques. He was anxious, I could tell. Their swim meet was fast approaching and nervousness was rolling off of him in waves, and when he was nervous, he was extra loud. So I took a deep breath, and went under.

When you're underwater, everything is peaceful. Its as if the world had stopped spinning and time was suspended indefinitely and I loved it. I love how the only thing you could see underneath was blue, and small bubbles of air as the members swam their way across the lake. The noise from the surface was barely audible and somehow, I could still hear Robert's voice. The thought made me laugh.

Unfortunately, you need air when you laugh.

I broke out into the surface, I coughed and my shoulders heaved as I kept gasping, my lungs hungry for air. I dragged my body across the edge of the lake and took deep breaths, each one longer than the last.

Stupid.

"You okay there, darling?"

I turned and saw Robert, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. I blushed and took another gulp of air, "Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't realize I was there too long,"I replied.

"Well, be careful next time," he said. "Don't know what I'm gonna have to tell your daddy once he finds out that his only daughter drowned in the lake under my watch."

I pursed my lips, "Sorry." Robert lived two houses from us, and he and my dad were pretty close friends. When I was young, he and my dad used to hang out all the time at the basement watching sports broadcasts and playing matches at the foosball table. Now, they still hung out, but after Robert got a job as the swim team coach, the visits became less and less often.

"That's alright kid, you can take care of yourself now right?" I nodded. He smiled and walked away, yelling instructions at the team to pack their bags and rest. I watched him for a few moments and walked over to my own bag, bundled up with the other members'.

I took my towel out and dried myself off when a girl from the team approached me. A tall, willowy girl with red hair, drenched from the lake water.

"Hi," she said, smiling at me.

"Hi, Violet." I smiled back tightly.

"The team and I are heading over to Rocko's for a malt, you wanna come with?"

"Uh..." I bit my lip, and looked at anything that wasn't Violet's eyes.

"You should-"

"My dad's expecting me." I cut her off and flashed her a quick smile before grabbing my bag and taking off.