Hurricane Season

Some felt my entry in Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2022 didn't quite conform to the spirit of the contest. It wasn't entirely unfair though summer isn't always all fun and games for everyone. Some summers aren't much fun. I tried to stay closer to the 'spirit' of the contest this time. This one has more summer fun but isn't without a little angst.

*

I was sitting at one of the two institutional folding tables that served as a desk, a lunch table, and general gathering places in the guard shack at the town's lakeside park, looking at my laptop and the list of lifeguards for the summer. It was three days before the town beach officially opened for the summer. The list was short four lifeguards. Every year a few graduated from college and moved on. The list of departures was longer than usual. The city had recruited diligently for lifeguards but came up short.

The lifeguards were a mix of male and female, slightly more female, college students. Being short four lifeguards meant everyone would have to work the equivalent of an extra day each week to keep the entire beach open. Plus, there was an extraordinarily large number of kids already signed up for swimming lessons this year. I was going to need six certified instructors to meet the demand because we'd be running three classes at a time, twice a day, four days a week. I had four instructors. I was certified to teach swimming, but my boss had nixed it. I had no idea how I was going to manage the swim classes. Sadly, some of the later enrollees would have to be told we couldn't accommodate them. I thought it best to prioritize the lifesaving classes and the beginner's classes.

As the head lifeguard, I already had a lot on my plate. Logging hours and submitting payroll. Juggling the occasional absence. Tracking progress in the lifesaving qualification classes. I spent part of the day watching swimmers from a tower chair. Part of the day patrolling the park. Partly to help keep watch on the people in the water and to monitor onshore hijinks to assure no one got hurt. But also to keep the lifeguards focused on their responsibilities. Not getting their hormones revved up above their already elevated levels. There were always scantily clad male and female beachgoers that liked to chat up and distract a pretty or handsome lifeguard sitting on a tower chair. About twenty years earlier, a kid drowned while the lifeguard on duty in that section was distracted. It cost the town a bundle. And possibly a young boy his life. The lifeguards may not have saved the boy. But they might have.

The extra work hours weren't going to go over well. Being a student myself, I knew several things about the lifeguard crew. College students had more freedom than high school kids. And summer was an opportune time to party. No exams. No papers to fret over. The lifeguard crew sometimes partied together which could present problems. There tended to be at least a few summer romances among the staff. And more hookups than could be counted. I wasn't immune to the temptations. But in the previous three summers, I'd engaged in no summer romances, though I will admit to a hookup here and there.

I expected professional behavior on-duty, and usually got it. But off-duty practical jokes sometimes still intruded. For instance, last year, my first as head lifeguard, I'd just arrived at the park when I got a call from one of the guys telling me he probably wouldn't make it to work that day. And wasn't sure when he'd return. He'd apparently left his keys in his car ignition. Someone stole his CJ5 from the driveway. I asked if he'd already notified the police. He confirmed he had. I took a deep breath. Then told him to call the police again. I was looking at his car. It was on a swim float anchored offshore. With two hundred feet of water between it and solid ground. The prime suspects were the two lifeguards he spent the night drinking with but I suspected it was likely others were also involved. No one ever took credit for what quickly became an epic and legendary practical joke. One that warranted a photo with a brief summary on the front page of the local section of the newspaper. It even got thirty seconds on the local eleven o'clock news. A little something to inject a bit of levity into the usual half hour of bad news.

The entire crew was coming in for a meeting in a couple hours. Last year, I made a schedule every week like my predecessor had. Not this year. I wasn't doing that again. Everyone was getting their summer work schedule that night after I got home. I spent two days getting it together. Going over it several times to make sure weekends, the holidays, and mandatory overtime were scheduled equitably.

My plan for the afternoon was simple. I already knew most of the crew. We'd go over work rules and expectations. Review the rules for park patrons. Review our safety procedures, including emergency procedures. Hand out the hats, pants and jackets everyone was required to wear. Remind everyone where to buy their swimsuit, if they needed one. I needed copies of everyone's credentials. And I needed everyone's cell number and email address. I planned to email the schedule late that afternoon. Then I was going to my brother's house to have supper and a few beers with him and my sister-in-law.

Some of the returning lifeguards arrived early. I was getting caught up with them when the guard shack phone rang.

"Guard shack," I said. "Paul Turcotte."

"Hey, Paul. Jane," a voice responded. Jane Truesdale was the summer program recreation director, my boss. She taught physical education at the high school during the school year and would for two more weeks before the school year ended. She also coached the boys' soccer team, and the girls' basketball and softball teams. I was terrified of her when I first met her, when she was teaching in my elementary school. Looking back on it, it was silly. She's a nice lady, a good teacher, and a successful coach with several state championships among her accomplishments. "Want the good news or the bad news first?"

I took a deep breath. At least it wasn't all bad news. "Doesn't matter," I said. "You pick."

"I hired three more lifeguards for the summer. Two are certified swim instructors."

I felt myself smile. Three more lifeguards and two swimming instructors was great news. "What's the bad news?" I asked, wondering what little bombshell she was going to drop.

"That's the bad news, too." Just from the sound of her voice, I knew she had a big grin on her face.

I was confused for a second. But only for a second. "Oh, crap. I have to redo the schedule," I sighed.

"Make it easy on yourself, Paul. Solicit volunteers for overtime. Give it to the people that want or need it," Jane told me. "Now that we're only one short, there won't be as much. If you have to schedule some people, so be it. You'll just have to be the bad guy for a change."

"Yeah, that will make it easier," I sighed. I hated telling people things they didn't like. But it came with the territory.

"All three will be there this afternoon. Got something to write with?" Jane asked.

"Shoot."

"Janet and Bill Dobbs. They're twins. Moved into town earlier this year. Janet goes to Northwestern, Bill goes to Boston College. And Susan Hurrican, also new in town. She'll be a junior at Cornell. Janet and Bill are the certified swim instructors."

I was starting law school at Cornell in the fall. "Anything else, Jane?" I asked.

"One more time, you're still okay with Kinsey Smith and Derek Booth as your backups? I know there's history with you and Kinsey."

Jane knew Kinsey was an ex-girlfriend. But from high school. She worked with me for one summer and worked for me the previous summer. "Yep. Kinsey and Derek will do a good job when I'm off."

"Okay. I gotta go. Meeting with the pompous ass we call our mayor."

I stifled a laugh. The mayor was Jane's ex-brother-in-law. Meeting with him had to be awkward. But I didn't disagree with her. He lived down the street from my family. Pompous ass was being kind. My father never referred to him by name. He was "that blowhard", usually with an expletive just before blowhard.

I counted heads before starting the meeting. The lifeguard crew was all at the shack on time. After going over everything I needed to cover, I decided to revisit a couple topics.

"I want to stress the importance of sun protection again. There will always be sunblock in the cabinet in case you forget yours, run out, or just want to use what we stock. Wear your jacket and pants whenever you're outside but not on the towers or on the floats. Last year, a few people let the sun protection slip and had to miss work for a day or two. That's not fair to someone forced to fill in for you on their day off. And not too good for long-term melanoma prospects. Any questions?"

No one said anything but I saw heads nodding.

"Okay. Everybody gets a pants suit, hat, and a gate key. If you don't already have a police whistle, take one and a lanyard from the box on the lunch table. The whistle belongs to you once you take it. Before you leave for school in the fall, wash the suit and return it here with the gate key. Don't return dirty or damp clothes. If your stuff is returned damp or dirty, or you don't return it, you own it. Replacement cost will be deducted from your last paycheck. Before you leave, I need a copy of your certifications. Write your name, cell phone, home phone, and email address on the clipboard hanging by the phone. Legibly! Do not leave before writing that info down. There's a sign-up sheet for overtime. If there are enough volunteers, I'll spread it out fairly. If I don't get enough volunteers, everyone that didn't sign up will have to pitch in. I'll email the schedule for the entire summer later today or sometime tomorrow after I finish it. If I don't have your email, you won't know when to come to work. If you don't show up when you're supposed to and don't call, you could be terminated." I paused. "Don't do that to me," I added with a grin.

Almost everyone laughed.

"Kinsey, can you and Derek issue the jackets, pants, hats, and keys?"

"Sure, Paul," Kinsey said.

"Bring your credentials to me so I can scan them for the file. You can't work until I have a copy of your certifications."

Janet and Bill Dobbs were among the first to give me their credentials. If Jane hadn't told me they were twins, I would have guessed they weren't related, despite their names. Paul was tall, maybe six-one or six-two. He looked like he was built out of mismatched, leftover parts. Long skinny legs and arms, and a short torso. He had ungodly big feet but small, delicate hands. Fair-skinned, blonde, blue eyes, and a crooked smile with a friendly, laid-back demeanor. Janet may have scrounged up enough height to crack five feet. Maybe. But she was solidly built. Wide shoulders. A small waist above full hips and muscular legs. Dark brown hair. Eyes that were almost black. She had a large chest cavity for her height. I doubted there was enough boob for an A cup. She was polite while I talked to her but all business and a little closed off. But full of nervous energy. Unable to stop moving, she rocked back and forth, heel to toes.

Most everyone was either gone or outside socializing with coworkers by the time Susan Hurrican saw me. My first inclination was to get up and get a bottle of sunscreen for her. "I've met or already know everyone else," I said. "You're Susan Hurrican?"

The look she gave me was sharper than broken glass. "Soo-see," she said as she handed me her lifesaving certification card. "S-I-O-U-X-S-I-E. Pronounced Soo-see.

"I'm sorry. I was told Susan." The lifesaving certification card she handed me had the spelling she cited.

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get testy. It's not your fault if you were told Susan. I just get tired of everyone getting my name wrong. My parents were big fans of some lame rock group from the seventies and eighties. They named me after the lead singer."

"I'll be sure to get your name right in the future." I put her credentials on the scanner and began the scan. I turned and smiled at her while I waited, which was less than a minute. I liked what I saw.

Siouxsie Hurrican was tall, perhaps five-eight or five-nine. It was hard to tell exactly how tall. She was wearing a floppy, broad-brim sun hat with a high crown. She was slender but nicely shaped. I couldn't tell what her legs looked like. They were hidden by a pair of baggy khaki green nylon cargo pants. The kind the lower legs unzip from. Red hair that was mostly up under her hat. Natural, not apple red or some weird color like magenta. I couldn't decide whether her eyes were blue or green in the guard shack, which was only lit by ambient light from outside the shack. She had a pleasant face. Despite the near frown she still wore because I got her name wrong. She wore an open, lightweight, opaque, long-sleeve shirt over a blue-green leotard. The scoop neckline showed the freckles on her face and neck continued onto her chest. She had a fair complexion.

When the scan finished, I handed her credentials back to her after I checked the scanned image and saved it. "Thanks, Siouxsie. I have your contact info including email address?" I asked, just like I'd confirmed with everyone else.

"On the clipboard," she said.

"Okay. I only learned you and the Dobbs twins were joining us a couple hours ago. I'll get a schedule out soon. Maybe late tonight but probably tomorrow night. Work starts Saturday when the park opens for the Memorial Day weekend."

"How many extra hours can I get? I signed up for extra hours."

"I don't know yet. I haven't seen the list of overtime volunteers. I'll split it up equitably."

"I have a question. If I'm scheduled to work but have a conflict. Can I trade days with someone?"

"As long as you and the person you trade with don't go over or under your scheduled hours for the week. Traded days can't become overtime if one person's hours fall short for the week. You'll get overtime when it's scheduled but you can't make your own. It's okay to swap overtime between or weeks, too. Or give it away if you don't want it. You just can't make your own. Got it?"

"Okay."

"Anything else? If not, I'll see you when you come to work. I'll be here all day, every day for the first couple of weeks."

Siouxsie turned and left without another word. I had a brief conversation with Kinsey and Derek before they left, closed the wooden panels that opened the shack to a 360° view of the park, gathered my laptop and portable scanner, locked the shack and headed for my car. It looked like rain. Siouxsie was outside the park gate, waiting for the bus. It came once an hour.

"It looks like rain, Siouxsie. You want a ride home? Or into town somewhere?" I asked as I walked by. There was no place to shelter. She didn't have a raincoat or umbrella. I looked at my watch. "The bus isn't due for about forty minutes."

"I'll wait," she said simply.

I shrugged and crossed the street to the parking lot. As I backed out, it started to sprinkle. I stopped in front of Siouxsie and asked again. "You sure you want to wait?"

She looked up at the sky and then at me. Suspiciously, I thought. Understandable. She'd seen me for the first time a little more than an hour ago. After a moment's hesitation, she got in. Within a few hundred feet, the sprinkles became a steady, soaking rain.

"Where to?" I asked.

Once again, she hesitated. "Ball Street," she finally said.

I was a little surprised but didn't comment. It wasn't a good neighborhood.

The street had a different official name. But it had become Ball Street colloquially because it long ago dead-ended at a huge ball-shaped natural gas tank in a lot at the end of the street. The giant ball was long gone. Taken down when I was in grammar school. Now the lot was just a fenced-off concrete expanse strewn with wind-blown trash, some construction debris, and two small, dilapidated wooden shacks. One side of Ball Street was a chain link fence running alongside a rusty, unused rail siding. The other was made up of a line of small, two-story houses with barely enough room between them for a driveway. None had a front yard to speak of. Maybe six feet of grass or bare dirt between the house and the sidewalk. I had no idea whether any had a back yard.

"I understand you're new in town. How long ago did your family move here?" I asked.

"Last month. I was still at school when we moved. I've been in town ten days," she told me. "How did you know I was new in town?"

"Jane Truesdale told me when she called to say she'd hired you. I'm glad she did."

She stiffened and gave me another suspicious look. "Why?" she asked.

"Because we were going to be severely short-staffed this summer. The Dobbs twins, who are also last-minute hires, and you mean we're only short one lifeguard."

"Oh," was all she said. But she relaxed.

"Before I drop you, I'm going to make a quick stop. I haven't had lunch."

"You're going stop somewhere for lunch?" she asked. She wasn't happy.

"Just at the drive-up window. It's on the way."

When we got to the fast-food joint, it was after the lunch rush. I was able to drive right up to the kiosk. "Want anything?" I asked.

"Just an iced tea," she said as she dug into her purse. "I'm thirsty."

"My treat," I said. "It's only a buck. Small, medium, or large? They all cost the same."

"Small. Thanks."

It was another twenty minutes to her house after we got our order. The conversation stayed light but noticeably more comfortable. I think she finally realized I wasn't an ogre, wasn't hitting on her, and might not be a serial killer working as a lifeguard to lure unsuspecting young women into his old SUV.

When I pulled up in front of Siouxsie's house, a woman in her mid-forties dressed in scrubs was in the driveway, standing next to a five or six-year-old SUV. Siouxsie looked much like her. The older woman also had red hair, though a little darker and shorter, and body type. Same complexion. She, too, was quite attractive. It was easy to see where Siouxsie got her looks.

"Thanks for the ride and the drink," Siouxsie said as she got out. She didn't close the car door right away. "You're going to work early, Mom?"

"No. I'm going in on time. I have an appointment to look at some apartments before I go to work. The sooner we get out of here the better," the woman said. "Your brothers have been at each other all morning. Keep an eye on them so they don't kill each other."

"Siouxsie? Would you close the door, please?" I asked, a little loudly. I didn't want to listen in on her little family drama. And she probably didn't want me to.

'Sorry," she said and closed the door.

I took a deep breath as I made a U-turn and drove away. Siouxsie was likely to be late for work if she relied upon the city bus. And might have trouble getting home if scheduled for closing. She'd have to take two different bus lines each way. That meant at least an hour-and-a-half. Maybe more. The buses stopped running for the day at eight, which meant it stopped picking up passengers at eight, discharging any passengers still on board along the way to the main depot.

Siouxsie and I ended up working the same weekends. It wasn't something I did intentionally. At least I don't think I did it intentionally or with an ulterior motive. It was just worked out that way when I reworked the schedule. During the week, we sometimes worked different days. Unlike the lifeguards, who were paid hourly, I was paid a decent salary that almost compensated for the inconveniences and extra responsibility. Jane expected me to be at the park for as long as I was needed on the days I worked.