Lonely People

Recording Session

Summer had returned. It was early in July, and hot as ever. I felt like I was melting, even though we were inside. Michael and I were spread eagle on the floor of the living room doing our best to soak in any chill the ground could provide. A fan was blowing on us, but that didn't do much.

"It's so hot," Michael complained, "I'm melting."

"Think cold thoughts."

"That doesn't help."

He rolled over on his stomach and looked at me. I leaned my head back and lifted an eyebrow. He placed his hands on my chest where my heart should be and sighed, "Ah, so nice and cold."

"Mike, you wanker!"

I hit his shoulder, causing him to roll off and cackle. As angry as I wanted to be, I couldn't help but laugh. My little brother's weird sense of humor never failed to make me chuckle. 

The fan circulated, landing on me every minute. Every time I felt the cold gusts of air, I breathed a sigh of relief. I heard Michael do the same.

"When is Dad supposed to be home?" Michael asked.

Dad had promised us he would take us to the public pool once he returned home from work. I lifted my head to look at the clock, "Four more hours."

"Bloody hell."

Both of us groaned simultaneously. It was usually cold in Britain, or, at least, a comfortable temperature. Heat waves always made me feel like death. I expected the entirety of Britain to melt into the ocean, becoming nothing more than a myth like Atlantis. 

"Do you think Paulie would take us to the pool?" Michael asked.

I shrugged, "I dunno. He's in his room."

"Paul!" Michael shouted.

"Paul!"

"Paulie!"

"Paul, come here!"

"Paul!"

"What?!"

Paul came running down the stairs. He stopped halfway down to glare at us. Both Michael and I lifted our heads to look at him.

"Will you take us to the pool?" Michael asked.

Paul sighed, "Wait for Da."

"Why can't you do it?"

"I'm busy," Paul replied, "Dad said to stay here until he got back."

"Come on, Paulie, please."

Paul shook his head, "Sorry, Mikey, Dad's orders."

"Paul, you're sixteen," I said, "You don't have to listen to everything Dad says."

Paul wrinkled his nose. I laid my head back down and took a deep breath. Visions of ice, snow, Antarctica, and cold pop ran through my head. I tried to think of everything chilly in an effort to cool myself down from the inside out, but it didn't work. If anything, I managed to make myself hotter.

"I'm going to make some cold tea," I muttered, sitting up.

Michael glanced up at me, "Who drinks cold tea?"

"Americans and boiling Liverpudlians."

"Touche. Make me some too."

I got up and began to make my way into the kitchen. My bare feet soaked up what little chill the tiled floor had, though it wasn't much. We had opened every window in the house in an effort to get a breeze going, but that was no use. We might as well jump into a microwave.