Pool Boys

January 4, 2011
By Anonymous

There she was, Amy Gerstein, over by the pool kissing my father. That dirty s***! I knew that she wanted more than just a summer job. I mean really what kind of girl offers to clean out a pool? Isn’t that usually a pool boy’s job? What I find even more annoying is that the only reason my father hired that tramp was because he had caught me and Alejandro doing the exact same thing only a month ago.

They were all the same, I decided. All those pool boys and now apparently pool girls too. Perfectly tanned and toned in their itty-bitty swimsuit uniforms. God I hated those uniforms. Why couldn’t they put some clothes on? I mean sure I can walk around in my bikini, but for God’s sake it’s my frickin pool!! But like I was saying… they’re all the same, college kids looking for an easy summer job. Young, exciting guys, with bodies meant to be pictured in Armani underwear adds. It’s understandable how I fell for Alejandro.

I remember lying there, stretched out in the lime green deck chair, evening out that dreadful soccer tan line. You could see where my shins had been covered by shin guards; they were a stark contrast to my brown knees. I could feel my shoulders soaking in the rays to the point where it began to feel uncomfortably warm. Of course I didn’t want sunburn so the only logical thing to do was to ask Alejandro to reapply my sun block for me. That’s why the lime green deck chair is so special. It holds fond memories of Alejandro kneading the cold white sunscreen into my tensely knotted back. But the images of those strong dark hands are quickly broken as I snap back into reality to see that Amy Gerstein kissing my father in the very same chair.

But I have to remember that as the sunny summer days grow cloudy, and the trees’ leaves begin to fall, that it will be just me and my Dad again. We’ve had many pool boys come and go before and I’m sure Amy won’t be any different than the others. Like Fred the pool boy from last year. He had said he was going to the car wash and never came back. Martin, who cleaned the pool out two years ago, claimed he had to travel to Europe to see his dying Grandma. Then there had been Dave, Tim, and Dan one for every summer that we’ve had that pool. Once the summer ends, they all disappear going back to their party college life, leaving me and my Dad staring blankly at each other across the dinner table only opening our mouths to say please pass the salt.

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