now that the boys of summer have gone
To celebrate the first day of summer I asked you to drown yourself. It was a personal favor and I promised you wouldn't have to stay under long. "Pretend it's the Hamptons- this is what friends do for each other!"
A boy I used to love (the one I really needed you to me) tells me the date and tries to figure out what is supposed to go wrong when the moon is in this cycle. His mother told us once, but now, we forgot. We cannot remember a thing of it. We laugh "summer solstice." I show you the eclipse at the bottom of my eye. Was I put on an airplane or was I escorted? I don't know, I don't swim well. If it ever came down to it, well- I'll get to that later.
I was nineteen years old which meant that I could travel the world, have sex on a back porch, break the glass against the wall and still fault anyone I felt. I like the smell of chlorine and the smell of gasoline too. I cannot distinguish if this will really happen or if it will really not. I admire the veins in my ankles, my breath.
You had just met everyone for the first time, they'd be more likely to save you- you are blond and I am not, and in my head a drowning blond is much more convincing than a brunette at the bottom of the pool, so I took off my sandals, undid my top and gave you instructions.
"Now sink to the bottom and choke a little; I need to see which one of them will jump in to save you first."
But they all have their shoes on.
"It's part of the charm, you can't skateboard underwater, everyone knows that"
I had just made my attempted return as a Prodigal daughter, something that has never worked in my favor. I was with my high school lovers, my old best friend, and I needed to know what any of it meant. I needed proof. I needed living proof.
How long do I stay under?
"Until you are saved"
What if no one jumps in?
"Can you just trust me on this?"
You swam your laps and undid your mouth, I sipped my straw and winked- right eyed until your head went under. I held their attention wondering if you'd really drown, on the first day of summer. I think I'd like pancakes in the morning, when the sun comes up. Maybe we'll have a cookout in the afternoon. These tests are important, you know?
His shoes and shirt are off and he dives like his father taught him. I watched the home movies when I was fifteen, I liked them. I love anybody's home movies. His father used to take him on the boat and say "Okay now, like a shark." His hair was so white, all you blonds, drowning in the water.
You are out of breath so I fish fifty cents from the bottom of my purse, hand it to a brown haired boy, "here- go get her a diet coke." He returns and I cant stop talking about how there it was pop unless it was orange soda. In one home movie everyone hunts for Easter eggs in Lousiana, I guess it wasnt summer yet then, it was spring though. I always miss the first day of spring, not with nostalgia like everything else, but with you know, my calendar. I guess we'll talk about that later.
You are taking quick panicky breaths while I hold their attention, "I'd like to wear a dress I think," I think then, thought then. It's not someones home movie, but it could be now, if two hours is a long time, two years can make a dent, and although I'm not nineteen anymore, we're wondering the significance of days again.
Now it is years later, and I cannot say I wouldn't do it again. I'd still need to do know which boy would jump in first. I'd still try and figure out if they ever really became men. But I promise you, this time I'd understand that it was wrong. I'd understand and I'd do it anyway.
I wish they wouldn't have forgave me, I shouldn't been forgiven.