My Pool Gets Me Wet In A Completely Platonic Way And Now We Are Close Friends

A heatwave in Southern California is bad news, and when Amanda’s air conditioning unit breaks down things quickly go from bad to worse. It’ll take a full day to repair, sending Amanda on a desperate mission to keep cool.

Unfortunately, when Amanda arrives at her apartment building’s central pool, the people swimming there make her feel distinctly self-conscious. Everyone at the pool is achingly cool, too hip to be splashing around and having fun. It’s so uncomfortable that Amanda leaves without going in, but she does happen to catch the eye of Riley, the sentient pool itself.

Over the course of the day, the friendship between these two begins to blossom, and Amanda starts discovering just how refreshing being yourself can get.

This no sex tale is 4,300 words of friendship between a swimmer and sentient pool that remains platonic because they’re just good friends, including learning to appreciate your own uniqueness and the importance of having fun.

----

MY POOL GETS ME WET IN A COMPLETELY PLATONIC WAY AND NOW WE ARE CLOSE FRIENDS

By Chuck Tingle

Anyone who’s had to wake up to the clanging sound of an alarm clock knows the pain that can accompany this awful transition from sleep to harsh reality. We’ve all done it, all known this ache that comes sharp and deep.

This morning I feel the agony of my tragic wakeup scenario, but something’s missing. The headache and discomfort that simmers across my frame is still there, but the constant blaring ring of a digital chime is nowhere to be found.

I still feel terrible, but I’m not sure why.

My eyes crack open, the lids heavy as my gaze comes into focus. Light is streaming through the blinds of my second story apartment, a beautiful morning if not for the awful sensations that wash over me.

Wash over me.

This phrase repeats again and again in my mind, a feedback loop of internal monolog. There’s something about it that just sounds wonderful right now.

I open my lips and, for the first time, realize how dry they are. My throat is parched, and my sheets are drenched in old sweat.

The reason I’ve woken up so early is because of how blazing hot it is.

“Oh my god,” I groan, dragging myself out of bed and staggering into the hallway.

I check the thermostat, wondering how this could’ve happened during one of the worst heatwave’s in Southern California history, then stop abruptly when I see the flashing message on my digital readout.

The word error keeps repeating over and over again, and endless reminder that it is, in fact, very hot in here.

I immediately spring into action, hurrying over and tearing open every window of my place. It’s not going to make things cold,that’s for sure, but it’s better than the suffocating, stagnant air that currently surrounds me.

I pull out my phone and quickly dial the number for our maintenance man, a friendly triceratops named Crivy.

The dinosaur answers quickly. “Hello?” he questions, already sounding a little flustered.

“Hey this is Amanda in apartment two eleven,” I begin. “It looks like my air conditioning unit has gone out.”

I can hear Crivy pause on the other end of the line. He’d been walking briskly, likely taking care of some other task on the opposite side of the building. “Seriously?” he blurts. “It’s so hot out.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I offers with a laugh.

“I’ll take care of it as soon as possible,” the triceratops continues. “Until then, get out of there. It’s dangerous in this heat.”

The weight of his tone is concerning, but also much appreciated. Waking up in this sweltering apartment wasn’t very fun, but I hadn’t really considered the legitimate danger I’d been in.

“What should I do?” I stammer, struggling to reframe this situation in my mind.

Crivy considers this. “We’ve got the pool in the courtyard. It’s pretty full these days, as you might expect, but it’s a great place to cool down. Pack a bag and head over there until I can see what’s going on with your AC unit.”

“Thank you,” I offer, then hang up.

I spring into action, grabbing a backpack out of my closet and filing it with all the heat-avoiding essentials I might need. I pack sunglasses and sunscreen, as well as a towel, goggles, some cold drinks from the fridge, and of course my swimsuit.

Last but not least, I grab my favorite arm floaties, adorable blow up rings that go around your arms and help you stay afloat. I’m a good enough swimmer to where I don’t actually need them, especially with their silly bright pink design, but there’s something about them I find really fun.

With that, I lock the door to my apartment and head down the stairs towards my small community pool, floaties blown up and eyes covered by a tight pair of goggles.

As I make my approach, however, I feel a strong sense of nervous apprehension bubbling up at the pit of my stomach. I can hear the excited chatter of fellow swimmers as it reverberates off the water, bouncing across the courtyard and then returning to my ears in its distinct, sing-song way. I hear the soft rhythm of someone’s stereo as it rings out with a band I’ve never heard of, the music casting this scene with an achingly hip sheen.

My heart is slamming within my chest now, humming along as I step out into the cement courtyard at the center of my apartment complex. It’s here that I freeze in place, gazing across the bizarrely daunting scene.

The pool is teaming with other swimmers, which honestly isn’t that much of a problem. This is a communal space after all, and I’m generally a more the merrier type of gal. What arrests me so suddenly is just how cool they all look.

My eyes drift slowly across the crowd, taking them all in. Everyone is dressed in fancy new swimsuits, perfectly poised on their loungers with drinks in their hands. I’m reasonably attractive, but these folks who are currently strutting their stuff poolside are out of this world. There’s an elegance to everyone, even when getting in and out of the pool.

I’ve always heard that competitive diving is based on how little a splash you make, it is appears the crowd has taken this idea to shocking heights.

The crowd of model-looking swimmers don’t seem to notice me as I stand here awkwardly, but the pool itself does.

“Hey! Come on in!” the sentient body of water offers, her smiling face appearing within the shimmering turquoise.

“Me?” I stammer, pointing at myself clumsily. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Why not?” the living swimming pool continues. “You’ve got all your gear.”

I suddenly remember that fact that I’m wearing bright orange floaties and there’s a goggles strapped to my face, immediately prompting me to pull off my eyewear.

“Oh, yeah,” I blurt. “I don’t think I’d fit in. I like to play in the water, you know?”

“It’s pretty hot out,” the pool reminds me.

I nod, accepting this, but not ready to accept her invitation. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

A strand here a bit longer, then suddenly turn and begin my retreat.

“Hey! Wait!” the sentient water calls out, prompting me to stop in my tracks. “What’s your name?”

I turn back to face the pool. “I’m Amanda,” I reply.

“I’m Riley,” offers the shimmering turquoise face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nod, then continue on my way.

Maybe the pool just isn’t for me. There are plenty of other ways to cool down on a hot afternoon.

Realizing I can’t go back to the apartment, I instead head towards my building’s parking garage. My footsteps rattle through this large concrete structure, finally arriving at my car. I open the door and thrust my keys into the ignition.

I don’t get in just yet, intimidated by the sweltering temperature of this vehicle, just do my best to start the engine.

Nothing happens.

“Oh noo,” I groan, sighing loudly as I pull out the keys.

I’d pop my hood and have a look if I thought it might do any good, but my understanding of autos is comically limited. The heat must be effecting something deep within this vehicle, but that’s about all I know.

I pull out my phone and take a look at the official temperature reading: one hundred and seven degrees.

Options are becoming more and more limited, and in the sweltering heat of this parking garage I need to think fast.

I consider heading back to the swimming pool, but as soon as I do this the ringing voices of sunbathers and swimmers — if you could call them that — return to my mind, I push this idea away. As hot as I am, I just can’t see myself finding true refreshment in a place like that.

For a moment I wrack my brain, wondering if any of my other friends have pools of their own, then coming up short. This moment comes and goes quickly, sweat starting to form on my brow as I realize I’ll need a little more creativity in my planning if I want to beat this heat.

Soon enough, I’m strolling out of the parking garage and making my way down the block, doing my best to stay in the shadows and avoid the blazing sun above. I’m fortunate enough to live in a neighborhood with an ice cream parlor on the corner, and that’s precisely where I’m headed.

You’re just being silly, some deep part of my brain thinks. Go for a swim in the pool. You pay rent here, too.

I shake my head, pushing these arguments away and quickening my pace. The sidewalk beneath my feet appears to tremble with waves of heat as I make my way over it, the whole world baking.

With every pull of breath I can feel the air stinging my lungs, and for a moment I’m wondering if this trek is even worth it. Fortunately, however, it all comes together as I reach the door of the ice cream shop and pull it open, treated to a refreshing blast of cold air.

This sensation is incredible.

“Hey there,” a unicorn behind the counter offers. “Would you like to try anything?”

I shake my head. “Two scoops. One chocolate milk, one spaghetti and marinara.”

The unicorn smiles and immediately gets to work, pulling out an icy scooping utensil and diving into a pair of circular buckets where my delicious treat awaits.

Just standing here in this air conditioned business is refreshing enough, but the promise of creamy goodness against my tongue is another level entirely. Unfortunately, it’s only now that I notice how unusually small this ice cream shop really is. This place is the definition of a hole-in-the-wall, a specialty business with just enough room for someone to duck inside, make their order, then hit the road.

The unicorn behind the counter hands me my ice cream cone just as someone else barrels through the door, anxious for their own reprieve from the summer heat.

“Oh sorry,” they offer, then turn to the unicorn to make an order.

I just stand in the corner of this tight space, awkwardly licking my ice cream cone. I’m in the way, and I know this, but the thought of heading back into the blistering heat seems much worse.

The customer tries to get a look at various ice cream flavors, prompting me to scoot as much as I can to the side and allow them a little more space. It doesn’t really work.

Before things have a chance to get even more ridiculous, I lock eyes with the unicorn behind the counter. She tells me everything I need to know with a single glance, clearly not wanting to embarrass me but giving off a subliminal signal that it might be time to move along.

“Oh, okay,” I stammer. “I’m just gonna go now.”

I slip past the customers and out into the blazing sun yet again, but this time I have slightly more direction in my mission. If I can just find enough businesses to wander through, I should have no problem staying cool today.

I begin my journey at a burger joint, hanging out for a while until they tell me to order something or leave. After that, I move to a place that sells lamp shades, then an art gallery, and finally a book shop.

The book shop — bless them — allow me to stay the longest. I get the feeling they’re used to folks taking their time, posting up in the corner and working their way through a chapter or two before making a purchase.

Eventually, however, even the workers here are forced to move me along.

By now the sun has made a decent trek across the sky. I hoped this late afternoon air might end up a little cooler, but it’s still blazing with just as much might as the moment I woke up, utterly relentless.

Part of me considers the fact that Crivy might be done repairing my air conditioning unit, but what if he still hasn’t gotten around to it? What if I make the journey all the way back home, jumping from shadow to shadow as I avoid the sun’s powerful rays, just to discover that my apartment is hotter than ever and my only reprieve is a pool full of judgmental tanners.

Is it really that bad if they see you splashing around with your goggles and your floaties? I ask myself, genuinely wondering if all this effort to avoid confrontation has been worth it.

The answer is yes. Yes it is.

With one last trick up my sleeve, I head a few doors over to what might be the ultimate cool-down destination on my list: the local movie theater.

I slip inside and buy one ticket to the first film that looks interesting, something about a card counting jet plane named Keith, then make my way down a long, cold hallway.

I creep into the darkness of my theater, sliding into one of the seats and taking a moment to fully appreciate the glorious calm of this moment.

As the day meanders on I sit through two more movies, eventually strolling out of the theater at eight and feeling fully reenergized. By now, there’s no way the AC unit at my apartment isn’t fix. Even if it’s not, at least the furious heat has cooled to a bearable level.

It’s not great, but bearable.

I amble back down the street, rolling down block after block in the warm night air until, eventually, arriving at my looming apartment complex. I head inside and take the elevator up to my floor, opening the door to my apartment and going straight for the air conditioning unit.

A disappointing digital message waits for me, blinking the same letters over and over again as I let out a frustrated groan.

Error. Error. Error. Error.

Next to the digital readout is a handwritten note from Crivy the triceratops.

“So sorry,” I read aloud. “I did everything I could to get this thing fixed, but I had to order a new part. It’s in the mail and it should be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

The news is bad, but it could certainly be worse. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of trying to sleep in this heat, but as the evening softens I might be able to pull something off. I think I have a fan around here somewhere, which I can set up next to the bed, and if I keep all the windows open I might be able to drop the temperature a few degrees compared to yesterday’s sauna session.

With that, I begin the process of preparing my bedroom to be the coolest icebox I can possibly manage, which will likely only mean hovering somewhere in the mid-eighties — if I’m lucky.

I’m fortunate enough to find the fan I was looking for, mounting it next to my bed, and discover a tray of ice in the freezer. I wrap the tray in a towel and the press against my head as darkness falls.

I close my eyes, doing everything I can to relax my body after a long, long day. I’m begging for sleep, yearning for the cool embrace of the other side, but that kind of desire is far from relaxing and it takes me a moment to recenter my mind.

Think about nothing.

Of course, this request is easier said than done. The thought of nothing is, in itself, a thought, and soon enough I find myself considering all the ways that this philosophical tangent could spin off, pondering up monks in deep meditation or a nothingness at the edge of the universe.

Focus.

I breath in, then out; in, then out. I concentrate on the rhythm of my body — and for a moment this seems to get the job done — but just as I’m about to drift off to sleep I find my attention wandering to something else entirely.

The ice has melted, and my head is getting wet.

Frustrated, I sit up and head out into the kitchen, tossing my melted bundle of towel and water into the sink. I glance at the clock to discover a shockingly small amount of time has passed.

The only part of my body that’s comfortable right now is the faint splash of liquid that remains upon my forehead.

I stop.

I creep over to the door of my apartment, listening closely for the chatter of swimmers or the gentle thump of some distant stereo, hearing neither.

Compelled by some strange force — likely a yearning desire from earlier that never quite went away — I put on my swimsuit and tip-toe out into the apartment complex. I don’t bring my goggles or floaties this time, not because I’m embarrassed, but because this particular version of events feels like something a little different.

I take the stairs, drifting down to the bottom level and then making my way out into the cement courtyard, which is now shrouded in darkness. The pool glows from below, the turquoise water now tinted by a strange and beautiful gold light.

I hesitate a moment, glancing around to make sure nobody’s watching, then slip into the cool water of the swimming pool. The liquid feels glorious against my skin, and for a moment I just float here in this semi-weightless drift, allowing my body a much needed moment of reprieve from all the chaos of the day.

After all the anticipation, finding any nugget of disappointed buried somewhere within this moment could’ve been easy. Fortunately, as I float at the center of this shimmering body of water, there’s no disappointment to be found. It’s everything I needed, a beautiful release of all the pent up tension I’ve carried through this day.

“Hey, you finally made it back,” comes the soothing voice of the water itself, Riley’s smiling face emerging through the liquid.

“Had a hard time sleeping,” I admit, “and a long day of trying to find ways of cooling off.”

Riley considers this. “Why didn’t you get in earlier?” she asks with genuine curiosity.

“Didn’t really feel like it,” I blurt, an half-lie that feels strange as it bubbles out of my throat. I did feel like it, but I was scared.

The sentient pool isn’t letting me off that easy. She can tell I’m bending reality, sense the nervous apprehension in my wavering tone.

“I know we don’t talk much, so you don’t have to tell me,” Riley begins, “but I feel like that’s not really what happened.”

I let out a long sigh, gazing up at the stars above as I float on my back.

“You’re right,” I admit. “Everyone down here was just so cool, you know? I felt like a dork with my floaties and goggles. I like to play in the pool, not just lounge around.”

“How do you know everyone down here didn’t also wanna play in the pool?” Riley questions. “I mean, they could’ve had the exact same feelings you did, only instead of physically running away, they emotionally ran away.”

I ponder this a moment. “I guess we’ll never know,” I offer. “My air conditioning is getting fixed tomorrow morning, so I won’t need to swim regardless.”

Now it’s the living pool’s turn to get awkward. “I mean, you can still come visit,” she replies. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but every time we get a chance to talk and hang out, it’s really nice.”

She’s right. Every interaction we’ve had with Riley has been a real treat.

“What do you do when you’re not…” I trail off, not entirely sure what to call this. “Pooling?”

Riley laughs. “Well, I’m a sentient pool, so I’m always kinda pooling. You mean when I’m not down here in the courtyard?”

“You can leave?” I retort curiously.

A wave ripples up and offers what I can only assume is a nod. “I sure can. I love going to the movies, I love getting ice cream.”

“It did both those things today,” I reply.

“Jealous,” the living pool playfully retorts. “Have you been to the spot on the corner?”

My eyes light up. “That’s where I got my scoops! Best two flavors they’ve got.”

Riley is getting excited now, a sparkle in her eye. She jumps in as I’m about to reveal my scoop choices, announcing the words in unison with my own. “Chocolate milk with spaghetti and marinara!”

We both start laughing, pleased by the serendipity of our preferred flavors.

As the laughter quiets down Riley gets serious again. “The only problem is that I work basically every dayduring the summer. I don’t have a chance to get out and do any of these things I like because I need to be here so people can go swimming.”

“What about evenings like this?” I question.

“Unfortunately, the ice cream shop is always closed by the time people are ready to pack it in,” the sentient pool offers. “Would be nice if someone brought me a scoop, but most folks have more important things on their mind when going for a swim.”

I nod along, blown away by how little I’d considered the everyday minutia of what it’s like to be a living body of water, especially one as popular as Riley.

I float a while longer, chatting it up with my new friend until I feel the first hints of a yawn drawing through my lungs and forcing itself into existence. After all that trouble getting to sleep, I’m finally tired.

“I should go,” I offer, climbing out of the water and drying myself off.

“Really nice talking to you,” Riley replies. “Come by during the day sometime.”

I smile, but say nothing.

Turning and heading back to the apartment, I find myself awash in a sea of calm. The liquid no longer supports my body, but the mentality of drifting in this pool remains.

The relaxed spirit that now guides me is slightly more than this, however. There are things Riley said tonight that have really stuck with me, helping to sort through the anxiety of the day. I’d been so caught up in my ideas about whether or not I was welcome at the daytime pool party, that I didn’t even give it a chance.

More importantly, who the hell cares if I’m welcome or not. It’s my pool, too.

With this tension lifted, I climb into bed and have no problem drifting off to sleep.

I wake early to discover the searing heat of the day has returned. The ache covers me like a blanket, but for some reason it doesn’t seem quite so bad.

Crivy arrives at my apartment early, the triceratops profusely apologizing for taking so long to get things fixed while I assure him that he’s fine with equal ferocity. As a single handyman in this giant apartment complex, this dinosaur is doing the best he can.

When that first blast of cold air comes erupting out of the vents above, I do everything I can to appreciate the moment. I close my eyes and stand right below this cascade of gloriously cool air as it tickles my skin.

“That’ll do it,” Crivy offers.

“Thank you,” I call back, my eyes still closed as I open my arms wide and take the full force of this cold blast.

I stay like this for quite a while. To be honest, I could stand here all day in the cold embrace of my newly repaired central air conditioning, but eventually something else wanders through my mind.

I no longer need the pool to cool off, but I can’t help feeling like I still have a bit of unfinished business down there.

I arrive on the pool deck clad in my floaties and goggles, only this time there isn’t a single part of me that feels awkward or stressed.

This scene is exactly the same as yesterday, folks laying around in the sun or gracefully dipping in and out of the water, causing as few ripples as possible.

I stroll over and place two scoops of ice cream on a little table just outside the pool area — one portion chocolate milk, one portion spaghetti and marinara. My friend can reach it over here without breaking any rules.

“Hey Riley,” I call over, catching the pools attention. “I brought you something.”

A glorious smile erupts across the living liquid’s face as she turns to see the cold treat. She says nothing, offering a thankful nod that tells me so much more than words ever could.

I head over to the edge of the pool, my presence alone causing a strange disruption to the otherwise “perfect” atmosphere. Of course, there’s no such thing as perfect — I know that now.

Or maybe there is, and true perfection lies in all of our oddities and unique attributes, the things that make us special and different.

Either way, I’m too hot to dwell on this much longer.

Instead, I leap into the liquid, splashing into the water and sinking below the surface. Despite the floaties, and can still push myself down to the bottom of the pool if I really try, and it’s here that I sit.

I gaze up at the blazing sun above, watching as it shimmers and contorts through Riley’s rippling movements.

One by one, other swimmers begin to plop wildly into the water around me, no longer worried about how their joy and excitement could be perceived on this warm summer day.