Read Online Saving Ruth by Zoe Fishman - Free Book Online

me.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI was workin’ for my dad, doin’ some real estate stuff, but then summer rolled around. This job is easy as shit, you know?”
    â€œYeah, it is a pretty sweet deal.” This was the longest conversation we had ever had. “Hey, have you heard from Jason?”
    â€œHe just called me. He’ll be here in a few.”
    â€œOkay. I guess I’ll check the chlorine.”
    â€œAlready did that. Gonna burn the shit out of some eyeballs since it’s the first day, but you know—just the way it is.”
    â€œYikes. I’ll check the bathrooms then. Make sure no one is living in a stall or anything.” He looked at me blankly. “Right, well—be right back.”
    The bathroom looked just as it had the summer before, and the summer before that—dark and dingy with the faint smell of Lysol and mold. There were two showers and two stalls. I had spent a good thirty minutes trying to insert my first tampon in one of those stalls, at a swim meet long ago. I checked it for toilet paper now. All set.
    â€œY’all ready?” asked Jason, who had arrived to shepherd us into the new summer season.
    â€œReady as we’ll ever be,” I replied. “I guess I’ll go up on the stand first, Kevin, if that’s cool with you.”
    The pitter-patter of flip-flopped and Croc-ed feet came storming down the hill. They had arrived. In no time at all, the entire snack bar area was filled with children, as though they were multiplying like rabbits.
    The sun began to broil my translucent, Michigan-winterized skin as I made my way to the stand. I climbed the wooden rungs slowly. All eyes were on me, waiting for the inaugural whistle that meant the pool was open for business. That meant I had to take off my shirt and shorts in front of what was essentially a live studio audience. Jesus, Ruth, don’t make such a big deal about it. Just do it. One, two, three, and they were both off. I looked down at my red midriff with a sigh of disgust. No matter how many crunches I did, my stomach still refused to be flat. When I sat, my belly button disappeared beneath a generous swell of flesh. I adjusted my suit in an attempt to disguise it.
    I blew the whistle and on cue the pool was filled in an instant. I watched nervously as kids splashed around and screamed, dove for tossed rings, shot baskets at the water hoop, and threw themselves off the diving board. For the thirty-minute intervals during which I was on the stand, it was up to me to make sure no one was running, peeing, roughhousing, or drowning. The stimulation had my brain firing on all cylinders. Parents waved to me as they set up shop on their lawn chairs and lubed themselves up with tanning oil. As the minutes passed and I found my surveillance rhythm—shallow end, deep end, diving board, basketball hoop, and back—I began to relax. It was all so familiar, after all. I’d either been part of the mayhem myself as a pool member or watching it from above as a lifeguard for my entire life.
    Jason canvassed the deck, hugging hello with various moms and parents. Kids attached themselves to his legs, and he carried them around until they were giggled out and ready to go back into the pool. Kevin manned the snack bar—handing out corndogs and popsicles begrudgingly.
    As the day wore on I watched my skin turn pink and the fingers and toes of everyone around me turn into prunes. Kevin and I exchanged places on the stand every thirty minutes, and the shade of the snack bar provided welcome refuge from the blazing sun. I wrote the kids’ names on their hot dogs with squirtable mustard, much to their delight. I might as well have been Van Gogh the way they watched their names emerge from the depths of that yellow bottle. Meanwhile, I kept my own hunger at bay with Lemonheads and Skittles.
    â€œWell, hey there, Miss Skinny Minnie!” I turned around to find Mrs. Moorehouse standing