found drama

We’ve come to the lake to swim, some friends (two or three others) and myself.  The lake has a large island in the middle and may as well be little more than a moat for the island; it’s eighty feed across from the shore to the island at its widest point.  We swim clockwise around the lake, against the current.  As we finish our lap and come once again upon our starting point, I notice that a large tree has fallen across the width of one of the narrower portions of the lake.  There are lots of people on that tree, using it as an ad hoc diving board.  All of them are guys that I knew from high school and none of them I particularly care for.

Two of my accompanying friends swim up ahead faster to meet these guys and try out the diving board tree.  The other asks me what I’m waiting for.  I don’t bother telling him that I knew these guys but I get caught up in the moment and send myself forward, butterfly strokes and all, as vigorously fast as I can against the current.

When we get to the tree, I climb up and everyone else has jumped back into the water already, swimming away in a mock race, with the current this time.  On the tree is a young woman I know from high school (Becca? Lauren? something like that); she’s in a white t-shirt and guy’s swimming trunks.  She makes a few comments in my direction but I’m cautious around her; as cautious as I am diving back into the water.  I know how shallow it can be at some points, after all.

About Rob Friesel