DID ANA POSSESS the ability to make good, level-headed decisions? She honestly wasn't quite sure anymore.
The mixture of kids screaming, the incessant sound of water splashing, and the blazing sun beating down upon her body were giving her a raging migraine. Why had she agreed to manage the pool again that summer? She couldn't quite remember her reasoning beyond having to support her mild shopping habit, and needing to get out of the house.
Perhaps a better justification was that an idle mind is the devil's playground, and Ana was definitely trying to keep her mind occupied lest it wandered.
However, the sound of a whistle blowing twice in succession, finally broke Ana out of her reverie. The shrill noise was abruptly followed by her least favorite employee, Billy Hargrove, calling some poor kid a lard ass, and asserting that if the child got caught running again, he would be banned from the pool for life.
Well, Ana thought, getting up from her perch under an oversized umbrella, that wouldn't do at all.
By the time Ana had reached Billy, he was casually flirting with four middle-aged women who were unabashedly checking out the barely legal teen. Not that he seemed to mind the inappropriate attention. In fact, he seemed to relish it more than anything.
Some women really have no shame, Ana pondered before approaching Billy from behind and yanking harshly on the whistle string hung around his neck. The force of Ana's tug pulled Billy back a few steps and halted any forward momentum. Said boy whipped around to confront whoever dared to ambush him, but stopped short upon realizing it was Ana. The look of indignation immediately fell from his face and was promptly replaced by one of unease. Apparently, their little talk the previous school year hadn't escaped his mind just yet. The thought brought with it a sense of pride and a small smirk to Ana's face.
Dropping the string, since she seems to have his complete and undivided attention, Ana considered the younger man through narrowed eyes for a moment before asking, "how many times do I gotta tell you, Hargrove, you don't have the authority to ban anyone from the pool?" Billy floundered for a moment, attempting to formulate a reply, but Ana cut him short. "Just get up on the stand, and stop performing for the Stepford Wives, capisce?"
"Yes, Ms. Thompson," was the reply Ana received with a slight scowl before Billy turned on his heel and did just as she'd asked. At least, was one problem solved. Then, it was time to address another.
Hand on hip, and a disapproving look adorning her face, Ana rounded on the middle-aged gawkers with her lips set in a firm line. Giving each woman a glance of reproach over the top of her sunglasses, Ana shook her head judgmentally. "Gross, ladies. Just gross. Especially you, Wheeler. Wasn't he in class with your kid? For shame."
Ana didn't stick around to humor any responses to her distaste, nor gapes of admission or guilt, before she headed back to the manager's office. She wanted nothing more than to drown out the endless noise, and quell her surmounting headache before spots started appearing in her already cloudy vision.
Ana had managed to doze off for who knows how long before her peaceful silence was interrupted by a knock on the office door. Another lifeguard, Heather, poked her head in to announce that Ana had received a phone call. Groaning, and wishing that the day would just simply end, she'd followed Heather back out to the front, picking up the awaiting telephone.
"Hello?" Ana called into the receiver, rubbing her aching temples with her free hand.
"Ana, it's Joyce," announced a voice on the other end. Adjusting the earpiece to rest between her head and shoulder, Ana leaned against the counter, awaiting what could only be troubling news from Joyce.
"How can we at Hawkins Public Pool be of service to you, Joyce?" Ana asked tiredly. The sun need to set so they could kick all the patrons out and lock up for the evening. Preferably, sooner rather than later.
Joyce, clearly giving no credence to Ana's sarcastic question, blazed on with her original purpose for calling. "I just wanted to give you a heads up. Hopper stopped by Melvald's earlier, and he was sporting some serious crazy eyes." Ana sighed loudly through the speaker at the adept description. She could guess precisely where this conversation was headed.
If Joyce noticed Ana's utterance of distress, she gave no indication, because she proceeded with the conversation as though there had been no interruption. "Yeah," Joyce continued, "he's pretty riled up about Eleven and Mike's-" the older woman paused, searching for the most accurate designation.
"Blossoming relationship?" Ana offered in return. Their elongated game of tonsil hockey was what really had the police chief in a tizzy, but that seemed to crass a statement to make over the phone.
"That's the one," Joyce agreed. "I told him to have a mature and calm conversation with the both of them. Even helped him write out a speech."
Imagining Hopper having a calm conversation with two hormonal teenagers, drew a chuckle from Ana's lips. "I'm sure that went over well," she replied with a slight eye roll.
The absurdity of the prospect had Joyce laughing in turn. "I know," she sighed in resignation, the noise crackling across the sound waves. "He wasn't exactly receptive to my advice," Joyce conceded, "but hopefully, he'll take it into consideration."
Allowing her eyes to wander over the pool area as she spoke with Joyce, Ana took in the familiar sights. Children shouting and playing, women sunbathing, and the occasional adult trying to swim laps amidst the chaos. However, a particularly troubling image had Ana cutting the phone call short. She'd spotted another adult who certainly needed the divine intervention of a reasonably well-adjusted female. "Joyce, I really appreciate the help, and I'll try to talk Hopper off the ledge when I get home, but right now, I gotta go," Ana announced.
Clearly put off by the abrupt conclusion to their conversation, Joyce stuttered for a moment. "Oh, well. Alright. I'll just speak to you later, then."
"Yep. Bye, Joyce," Ana responded quickly before dropping the phone back on its receiver and making a beeline for Mrs. Wheeler and Billy Hargrove.
Remember to leave room for Jesus! That's the phrase Ana wanted so desperately to yell when approaching the two, though she somehow managed to squelch the impulse. But, hey, if it could shame middle schoolers into behaving at school dances, maybe it'd work the same for nefarious adults.
Finally making her way to the other side of the pool, Ana had to choke back a gag upon hearing Billy say, "it will be the workout of your life." The smug look on his face, combined with Mrs. Wheeler's obviously flustered posture, made Ana confident she'd throw up in her mouth. Did she not babysit enough children? Why must she add adult wrangler to her long list of inconvenient duties?
The two jumped apart when Ana snuck up behind them and said, unnecessarily loud, "you know what will be the workout of your life, Hargrove? Cleaning the toilets in the boy's locker room." She could barely be bothered with containing the agitating coating her words.
Upon her intrusion, Mrs. Wheeler at least had the decency to look ashamed, while Billy looked thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. His dissatisfaction brought Ana a sense of joy for the second time that day. After all, everyone loves a good cock block, as long as they're not the one having their efforts thwarted.
When neither made a move to scurry away as Ana had hoped, she placed a firm hand on Billy's shoulder and not so gently pushed him in the direction of the locker rooms. "Hop to it, Hargrove!"
The boy eventually ambled away to handle his newly assigned duty, and Ana was finally left alone with the Wheeler matriarch. Letting out a huff, Ana lifted the sunglasses covering her eyes to rest atop her head and considered the woman in front of her. Mrs. Wheeler was everything Ana feared becoming. A housewife in an unhappy marriage who didn't feel content with her circumstances. Basically, a woman who had settled for a life that didn't provide fulfillment.
Regardless, none of those were good enough reasons to act like a complete moron.
Now, talking sense into adults is a whole different ball game from children. Children's brains are pliable and they're susceptible to influence. They simply don't know any better and so they're more likely to listen. Adults, on the other hand, they believe they know everything, and you can't tell them otherwise. The approach has to be exact and intentional to evoke the intended response. Thankfully, Ana was a master of words.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Ana narrowed her eyes and asked, "do I even have to say anything?" Mrs. Wheeler's expression became bashful as she avoided Ana's eye contact, seemingly fixated on a sight somewhere off to her right. Cleary, the direct approach wasn't gonna suffice in that scenario, but perhaps a come to Jesus meeting would serve in its stead.
Releasing her rigid posture and intentionally softening her eyes and tone, Ana spoke again. "You know, I always tell my students that their mistakes are their own to make and to suffer the consequences of until they come at the expense of others. Do you know what I mean by that, Mrs. Wheeler?" Ana didn't receive a verbal response to her question, she hadn't honestly expected one, but she finally held the older woman's unrestrained attention. At least, that much was evident by the previously avoiding gaze snapping in her direction at the poignant statement.
Reading that as a sign to continue, Ana blazed on. "It means that an unhampered individual can be reckless and self-indulgent with their decisions because they reflect on them and them alone. Once you're tied to others, though, impulsiveness must take a back seat to nurture the common good."
Mrs. Wheeler's countenance finally took on a look of remorse, and Ana knew the intended seed had been properly planted, she need only to watch it grow. Dragging the sunglasses back over her eyes, Ana gave Mrs. Wheeler one last contemplative glance before heading off. "Just some food for thought."