Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, October 9, 2002

Our room at the B&B was scented with lavender and the air conditioner hummed resolutely above the bed where I reclined, attempting to relax. It was mid-afternoon. J had just left, the sound of the closing door resounding in my head, and he had taken the scooter down the strip to kill some time. Half an hour, he'd said. I let my eyes fall shut and tried to sleep.

The pool boy from the day before surfaced in my mind and I remembered what he had asked me. I opened my eyes and glanced at the Speedos drying on the towel rack in the bathroom. I wondered how long J would be gone. A familiarly sour warmth spread through my stomach—the same anxiousness that I had experienced as a 16-year-old sneaking out through my bedroom window—knowing I was thinking about something that wouldn't be approved of, wondering if I would get caught.

J and I had agreed to break up the week before, but I knew he wanted something else. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Nevertheless, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering over the pool boy's body as he pulled himself out of the water. Mechanically, I rose from the bed, felt the cool air from the window unit ruffle my hair, and walked over to the towel rack to pull down the slightly-damp swimwear. Besides, I asked myself, when would I get another chance to come down to Key West?

The hot, humid air greeted me with a shove in the face. I glanced down the street, but our purple rental scooter was no where to be seen. Neither was J. Stepping out into the sun, I made my way around the corner, walking quickly, avoiding eye contact with the masses of shoppers even though none of them would know either of us, and as I hiked up the steps to the pool, I saw him.

He was seated at the bar in a pair of green swim trunks, and I immediately looked at the ground as I rounded the corner and slipped into the bathroom. I latched the door. Sounds from the pool calmed my nerves and I looked in the mirror to check my face and hair. What was I doing? What would I tell J if he came back to the room and found me gone? Adrenaline spread through my system. I tiptoed up to peer through an opening over the door and saw the pool boy with his back to the restroom, seated between two older men, obviously on break and entertaining as he threw back a swig from a beer bottle. Well, I’m here, I thought. I might as well do it.

"Can I get a Bud Light?"

I motioned to the bartender and she nodded as I slipped between the pool boy and the man on his right. He looked over, mouth slightly open, and spread a smile.

"Hey there." A clap on my bare shoulder, and I nodded shyly in return. "How’s it going?"

"Not too bad, a little hot. You?" I took a swig from the newly opened beer as he nodded in agreement, and laid a few dollar bills on the bar. The man to my right had left. Glancing nervously towards the entrance of the pool, I took a seat.

"No Speedo today, huh?" he asked. We both glanced down at my surfer shorts, and I pulled back the waistband. He laughed.

"Going undercover."

His name was Scott. Between my anxiety and desire to pull him into the bathroom, I had a hard time concentrating on what we were talking about but the chat continued until the subject finally came up about the guy I had been with at the pool the day before. Explanations sort of spilled out of my mouth rather ridiculously, but he took it all with a patience that drew me in even more.

We talked for another half hour as drinks were served around us at the bar and patrons came and went. When I finally glanced down at my watch it had passed by the half-hour mark and I bid a reluctant farewell. Hands were grasped and hopes exchanged that our paths might cross again, although we both knew this was a last goodbye. I closed the door behind me and fell into an empty bed under the air conditioner, exhaling anxiety, regret, and desire.