“Is this what you do all day?” I ask her.
“Yes! It’s like a mini vacation every weekend. You’re welcome to join me any time,” she replies.
“I’d love that! This is heaven. It’s so cold in the city compared to here.” I say. We’re wine-drunk, bikini-clad, and nearing the border of a pool currently occupied by young boys giggling and splashing each other with water noodles. “Children,” I murmur to my friend with an eye-rolling smile. “Welp. I guess a whole bunch of underaged eyes are going to see me half-naked toda–!” I pause mid-word as a wave of water splashes onto my legs. When I look down into the pool for the source, I see a 12-year-old kid grinning up at me mischeviously, stealing glances at his friends who are all giggling at him, waiting to see what I’ll do. I smile at him, lifting my brows above the border of my sunglasses. He blushes and turns away, and they burst out laughing. My friend and I continue walking. “Did that little boy just splash me?” I ask, laughing softly.
“He did,” she says, laughing too.
“I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or–”
“He’s definitely flirting with you,” she replies, laughing as we reach our lounge chairs and throw our towels over them.
“That’s hilarious.” I lay down, pulling my sketchbook and pen into my lap.
“They’re little boys. They don’t know any better. They see a cute girl and they’re like, AGHH!!!!” She begins twitching spaztically. “CUTE!! GIRL!! CAN’T!! FUNCTION!! BRAIN!! NOT WORKING!! AHHH! SPLASH!” She pretends to hurl water in the air, and we errupt in giggles together.
I’m reminded of every movie I’ve ever seen where adolescent men hang out at pools and gaze in awe over the “hot babes” that walk by in filled-out bikinis, drooling and whispering to each other, overwhelmed by the visual appeal. I think of that scene in The Sandlot where the kid with glasses pretends to drown so the cute bodyguard will give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
It makes me laugh. I didn’t think that kind of thing was real. But I guess it is. Clearly, it is.
The boys climb out of the pool and settle into the lounge chairs nearest to us, laying on their stomachs, whispering to each other, looking in our direction. I look over at my friend and laugh, shaking my head at the lack of subtlety, at how amusing I find that.
I have a nephew. He’s amazing. He’s a year old and brilliant. Light blue eyes, caramel skin, soft, curly, light-brown hair, half black and half filipino — he’s going to be a total heartbreaker, and my sister will definitely have an interesting time fighting little girls off of him. As these little boys at the pool giggle and talk about us, I think of my nephew and how curious he is about the world. Of how he’s just learning how to interact with people. How he’s not yet observant enough to notice the things I might notice through socializing. He has so much growing up to do. I do, too.
My friend hands me the sunblock, and I smooth it over my face, neck, and chest. We pour ourselves a splash of wine each into plastic cups.
“Salud!” We say, clinking our cups together, smiling.
When I think about small scenes like this, it makes me grin. It makes me think of writers and where their inspiration for stories come from. It makes me think of movie clichés, and how those clichés are clichés for a reason.
Life is funny, isn’t it?
PS. Happy Monday. Hope this made you smile.