Summer of '99 - H.S.

Chapter Three

Joey Miller  1999

Weightlessness.

     It's an amazing feeling that I don't get to experience nearly enough.

     I lay on my back in the middle of the dingy leisure centre pool, floating in my existential abyss, ignoring the world around me and instead counting the squares on the ceilings that always reminded me of the inside of an egg carton.

    Here I can ignore my shitty life, I can ignore the fact that I love my mum more than anything but I really cannot be in the same room as her for more than five minutes. I can ignore the constant sad reminder that my dad will never hear my voice again. I can ignore that I have very little in my life, and what I do have revolves around my bestfriend.

    I feel like a failure. I feel like I have no purpose. I feel useless and hopeless most of the time and being here and floating just on the surface of the vile, scummy water just allows me enough time to shut it out and breathe.

    I am aware that I must look a bit stupid. A 19 year old floating in the pool where kids are about splashing, people are trying to swim, and here I am in the way. But at this moment I can't find it in me to care too much. I need this. I needed a breather and being here allows me to do just that.

    I drop my feet and start slowly swimming towards the edge of the deep end in the pool. I fold my arms over the ledge and rest my cheek on them, tapping my fingers in the small puddles of water that have settled on the poolside. I hear girls laughing and so turn my head the opposite way to see Hannah and her two friends, Sadie and Jen, sitting on the side of the pool with just their legs in the water. Of course.

    The chlorine would probably run their makeup and ruin their hair. I watch as they giggle and gossip together in wonder, I've never had that girly connection and a small part of me wonders if I've ever missed out on anything there. I'm aware I'm silently judging them on the basis of nothing, apart from stereotypes that I see themselves fitting into, and I know that's not fair. But I'm not perfect and I can't help but feel small whenever I'm around girls like that. Hannah is very much Cher from Clueless and I am very much not. These girls are effortlessly charming, they always look good and they have perfect bodies and perfect hair and I don't feel like I do.

    I always feel inadequate and I'm fucking sick of it.

    Really fucking sick of it.

    I lazily blink my eyes as I keep looking in their direction, a weird feeling of longing swirls inside of me and I try so hard to push it away, I don't know where it's coming from and I don't want to feel like that.

    All negative feelings dissipate when I see a familiar pair of legs walk behind Hannah and her friends, his tattooed knees and ankles stop behind her as he bends down to check she is okay, she tips her head back and smiles at him as he leans over and kisses her gently cradling the back of her head and smiling at her before signaling he will see her soon.

    I smile at that, it makes me proud that my best friend doesn't treat women like shit. Even if it is the bare minimum in general, it's not around here. I know that more than anyone.

    I long to be treated the way Hannah gets treated, not by Harry, ew don't even suggest it, but in general. It must be nice not having a guy treat you like shit and dispose of you when they don't need or want you.

    I watch as he strides confidently over to me, he's working here today meaning he has on his red swimming shorts and a black sports t-shirt. His hair looks a right mess and he has on some white pumps that the leisure center gives to the staff.