Lifeguard at the Reflecting Pool

****

The next morning Jenny looked disheveled. I thought she might have had a fun night. I asked about her evening, and she said "Not as good as yours, I bet." She had gone alone to the bar at the motel in town, where the action was, and tried to fit in with a more diverse crowd. I gathered that lots of guys approached her but all the conversation was testosterone-fueled joking and innuendo, and she could deal with only so much of it. I felt a certain kinship. She described a drunken oil company scion she had ditched for trying to fondle her after 5 minutes of blather. He had announced that he was in the top.001 percent.

My family might in the 25%. So, that story was totally different from me and Sheila.

Nevertheless, after her morning break Jenny pulled a chair up next to mine at mid-pool. This was a first. We talked to one of the youngest swimmers, who wanted to learn to dive, and then we fell silent. After a minute my Long Silence Warning Light started to flash, but then I started thinking about the Sheila issue. After five minutes it was solid red, but I couldn't come up with a topic. I barely knew Jenny, even after weeks of working together, and we probably had nothing in common. For one thing, I wondered what it was like to be so absurdly good looking. It would probably affect everything that happened to you.... Then the Long Silence Alarm started to shriek. I wondered how long she would just sit there, but also I didn't want to find out. When the tension was too much I got up and gave the kid a short free lesson on avoiding belly flops.

****

Sheila showed at the customary afternoon hour. This time she and the kids were accompanied by an older man who acted like a part of the family, probably their father. The kids were hanging all over him, and he was all over her. I had to remind him not to throw her in the pool. He gave me a little resistance. It ended amicably, but Sheila didn't introduce me or try to mediate. They left after a couple of hours, and I realized I had no date that night.

At closing, Jenny was again met by an eligible-looking young fellow, and I went home and thawed dinner. Then I went out to the bar in the motel, which was my idea of absolute hell, just to say I had taken a shot.

****

It was crowded and noisy. There were no seats; in fact, there was hardly room to stand. You could barely hear someone shouting in your ear. I almost left, but I steeled myself, got a brew, and stood by one end of the bar feeling ridiculous.

Jenny came in with her escort du jour and was soon surrounded by a group of guys. They were laughing loudly and seemed to be having a great time. Jenny was the center of attention, drinking with them, listening, and smiling.

Eventually I went out on the dining deck overlooking the town dock and spent 20 minutes watching the harbor navigation buoys blinking soundlessly in the night. Eventually it struck me that I was identifying with them to an unhealthy degree, so I drove back to my room to read a book, feeling inadequate. The ride home was gruesome. That hollow, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach was loneliness. Maybe -- maybe - I was seeing a girl, but I sure wasn't finding a soulmate. I drove too fast and the stripes on the road flew at me like accusations. I was a loner, a loser, a failure, even here in a place famous for good times.

****

The next morning Jenny asked me about my evening. I said it was OK. She asked if I'd seen that "cute au pair" again, and I said she'd been busy. Jenny volunteered that she was thinking of staying in for a few evenings herself. She was being nice.

With little else to do on an overcast day, I watched everyone watching Jenny as she walked around skimming the pool. With her movie star looks, attention followed her everywhere, even in her conservative one-piece suit. I thought she must feel self-conscious all the time. She certainly didn't flaunt it, and if anything she quickly ended any attempted conversation, like she always did with me.

When early afternoon rolled around and I still hadn't heard from Sheila, I texted her to ask if she was busy tonight. She said the kids' Dad was home and she'd be tied up all week, without explaining the connection. I would have thought: parents home, less work for au pair.

Later she showed up at the pool with Dad and the kids, and again she gave no sign she knew me. She sat close to Dad on a blanket, and they seemed unusually friendly. When the sun came out she whipped off her shirt, and I saw she was wearing that tiny bikini. I had to decide about dress code enforcement. I decided that if she started sashaying around the pool in that thong I would have to say something, but since they were just sitting off in a corner by themselves, I let it slide. There did seem to be a lot of sunscreen-applying going on. She put her shirt back on before they left.

At closing time it was overcast again and it was just me and Jenny at the pool. Trying not to sound too spiteful, I asked if she had managed to avoid a date. She said she was just going to to Netflix and chill all by herself for a night. My so-called brain didn't suggest any comeback, so that was that.

****

On the way home, though, that same brain was racing so hard that I forgot to shift and redlined my old car in second.

First, unemotional, pecuniary little Sheila's probable effort to seduce Dad with her big tits would seem comically clichéd, except that it was annoying. She obviously had never mentioned either of us to the other. I guess we were just fuck buddies after all, and actually, that might be plenty. But she was being kind of in-your-face about it.

Second, though, Jenny was becoming interesting, at least as a psychological study. As far as dating went, she would always play far above the rim from my perspective. But I was beginning to think she was a hybrid -- an extrovert's body with an introvert's brain. Unlike me, she would never have to make an effort to get dates. But I decided to study her more. Yes, study. Like a nerd.

I was already familiar with the popular literature on introversion, but I skimmed a wiki again. It was considered one of just a few big in-born personality traits. It had benefits, such as making it enjoyable to be alone. Many famous scientists were introverted. There was a theory that the tendency to retreat into the calm of your own head stemmed from an inborn hyper-sensitivity to outside stimuli -- to conflict, emotions, social interaction, and even noise, fatigue, and cold. To wonderfulness, in my case.

Fortunately I had developed an emotional hazmat suit to help fend off the stressors. I had no defense against wonderfulness. Who would want one?

Apparently that comfort with inwardness was why your brain didn't constantly bubble with small talk. That certainly fit two people I knew. So I resolved to try getting past small talk.

****

The next morning Jenny and I didn't need to ask each other about our nights on the town. We each went about our own business in our usual uncommunicative way. But after a while I casually sidled over and asked what she was studying at college, and where. She was in Computer Science at M.I.T. No wonder she got to call people meatheads.

I said I was studying just up the river from her. She asked, doing what? My field was Big Data Economics, which requires a certain facility with software.

Two hours of effortless, nerdy conversation later, she offered to get lunch. She brought me a sandwich and waved off reimbursement. "You can buy tomorrow."

****

As closing time approached and the pool started to empty, she pulled a chair up next to mine. We nerded some more, but we eventually got around to personal topics. "That's a cute girlfriend you've got there," she observed out of nowhere.

"Girlfriend is not the word," I objected. "I'm not sure what it was, but whatever describes it, I think it's over."

"Huh. Are you upset?"

"Yes and no. No one likes being sidelined, and she has some good features...."

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"...but we're very different. I think she's found someone with more of what she wants. Besides... you'll laugh..."

She questioned me with a beautiful eyebrow.

"...she was too fast for me."

Jenny laughed.

Then we just sat for a while, wrapped up in our own thoughts, as the sun lowered and colors got warm.

****

"By the way, would you call me Jen? That's what my friends call me."

"Sure. I like that."

****

"It's nice just sitting here. Some people just talk, like, all the time. It's exhausting."

I agreed, of course, but I just smiled and nodded, not wanting to break the silence.

****

She began, "What do you think..." and trailed off.

I fantasized about her asking me out. More likely she was going to ask for advice on her latest conquest. But she just stopped and said, "...nothing." Still, it was time to start bringing in the cushions, and she was still just sitting there next to me, almost touching.

I realized that objectively, things were going unexpectedly well between us. If she had been a normally attractive person I probably would have gathered my nerve and asked her out. But we were such a mismatch that I thought asking would just make the rest of the summer awkward. Now that we could converse, I didn't want that awkwardness between us. She already had me feeling a little less lonely, and that was nice even if I would be morosely jealous that she was dating every night while I was cowering at home.

But I was really lonely. And I really liked her. So I screwed up my courage. And I dithered. But then I kind of blurted out: "I was going to ask whether...you were interested in going out tonight. With me?"

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. I was sure she was thinking about all the bad dates she'd had with guys much cooler than I. She was annoyed that I had complicated our new friendship and that she was going to have to find a way to let one more unappealing guy down gracefully. I suddenly wanted to retract the invitation or explain it away, but how? Barely in time, I remembered to breathe. She arched her back to stretch and her boobs strained against her Baywatch suit. She was soooo beautiful! What the hell was I thinking? I'd have a better chance with Beyoncé. I braced myself. This was going to be painful.

"I don't think so," she said. Predictably.

I'd misread the situation. Fatally. I'd been shot down and the exit wound was a foot wide.

"I'm done going out for a while. I've had too much of that," she said.

She was trying to depersonalize it. That was considerate. I liked her even more. Plus, strands of her golden hair were dancing in the breeze.

"I'd rather just have dinner in. How about my place? It's right around the corner. OK?"

****

We actually settled for a pizza and some box wine I'd had at my place for weeks. I brought it over to her apartment along with a pair of ridiculously elaborate silver candelabra I borrowed from my mansion's pantry. We had a nice, lights-out pizza dinner on the coffee table with my cheap Sauvignon Blanc and fancy candles. The wine box got much lighter.

It was a warm summer night, so after dinner we took a nighttime spin in my old car, with the top down, of course. This was becoming my default first date, but this time I was energized and tried to give funny descriptions of the sights we were missing as we rattled through the dark -- the clone factory where the Stepford teenagers at the pool were made, the $300 bikini shop.

For the trip back she asked to drive. We were both slightly buzzed but she was an excellent driver. As she got used to the car we went faster and faster over the granite ridges and under the towering pines. I put on 'Layla', and we flew through the night to the soaring guitar.

Back at her place we parked at speed with only a faint chirp of the tires. She had on a huge grin as she handed me the keys. "That was fun!" Then she looked down for a minute. "I don't want to go too fast for you," she said shyly, "... but....." And she leaned over the transmission tunnel.

I'm sure no one had ever ducked a kiss from Jen, and I wasn't going to be the first. I kissed her. I was jumping out of my skin.

That kiss. I'd never felt anything like it. There was no great pressure and no tongue at all, but it was warm, tender and cushy and went on for an unexpectedly long time. It wasn't passion. It was communication. A mind meld. I understood it to say: We may be the same. And maybe, just maybe: I could fall for you. As we parted we looked at each other in shock.

We poured into her sitting room. I encircled her waist and kissed her again. She leaned back and then in for another, longer kiss. Then she put both hands on my chest and gently pried us apart. "This is just coffee, right?"

"Right!" I said. "I don't think either of us wants to be reminded of our recent dates." So we sat and talked for another hour, jazzed and happy. And then, after another kiss, we shared a long, silent hug. Neither of us seemed to want to let go.

I drove home slowly. "Ol' 55" was playing on the radio. I sang along. It was perfect.

I returned the candelabra and fell into bed, but I couldn't sleep. Endorphins were having a rave in my skull. Of course, it was only a matter of time until a handsome, extroverted investment banker with a new Porsche came along and swept her away. But I was enjoying the moment.

****

I got to the pool on time, feeling groggy. Jen wasn't there. I started to panic that she didn't want to see me because she regretted our evening and we were going to have an awkward conversation.

She showed up half an hour late. After our usual "Hi," she said, "That car ride was wonderful. I'll never forget it." She blinked and I may have seen her eyes watering. I feel that way too, at weddings, or when I see pictures of the space shuttle floating above the nighttime lights of Earth. Wonderfulness does that to me.

She asked how I'd slept. "Not at all," I admitted.

"Me either. I was too jazzed. I wished you'd been there. Just to hug, I mean. Are you going to say anything to Sheila?"

"I'm not sure I really need to, but I'll feel better if I do."

"Me too."

****

Sheila arrived in the afternoon, with Dad. It seemed to me they were getting pretty handsy for a family venue. She didn't acknowledge me, but I eventually caught her eye and subtly beckoned her over.

She came by my chair much later, on her way back from the snack bar. I told her I was sorry, but I had fallen into a new relationship even though I liked her and enjoyed her company.

She was quietly furious. "Well that didn't take long, did it? I suppose it was Jenny all along." It seemed complicated to deny it. Eventually she stormed off, saying I wasn't exactly 'laugh-a-minute' anyway. She was right. I was, as usual, unhappy with myself.

****

"Didn't go smoothly, I guess," said Jen.

I was still feeling the adrenalin. "Of course not," I said. "But I don't think there was really any emotional attachment." Two birds, one stone. Now Sheila was finally looking at me, though, which was unnerving.

****

"What about this evening," Jen asked. "Are you free?"

What a question. "Unfortunately, no. I have a national tiddly-winks quarter-final."

"...How's the prize money?"

"It's my national ranking that counts. But for you I might skip it and go real estate shopping."

"Aren't we going a little fast again?" She grinned.

"Bear with me. I assume that you'll want at least eight or nine bedrooms, correct?"

"That's a lot of kids!"

"You'll need space for your live-in staff, too. So that means you'll need one of the really big mansions, and they're all on the water."

"Yeeeeesss...?"

"I've chartered that little sailboat down at the town dock. We have to have it back by sunset, but until then it's the best way to see all the good properties."

****

Once again it was a lovely summer evening, with skin-temperature breezes and just enough clouds to add some drama. Jen wore sneakers, cut-offs and a silky, plain-fronted white shirt that clung to whatever was underneath, which was pretty clearly pure Jen. Her legs went on forever.

We scooted along on an easy reach, leaving a smoothly expanding ripple of wake. We discussed whether to get a $15 million mortgage or just pay cash, and whether the big house out on its own point was too showy. As the sun descended though the clouds a little chill settled in. I put an arm around her and she snuggled into me.

On the way back, we decided to get the big house on the point, tear it down and build something cozy. The staff would have to cope. After that, there wasn't much talking, but somehow my Long Silence Alarm never even peeped. Just before sunset a shaft of light broke though under the clouds and turned the whole sky pink and orange. A rippling path of light followed us home.

Since the dock was right under the dining deck of the motel, we went there for dinner. On the way in, I saw Sheila and Dad having a serious discussion off in a corner of the bar. Sheila was showing lots of boob. She looked pissed, and Dad looked like he would rather be somewhere else.

The food was good and the drinks were better. We sat side by side overlooking the harbor, watching the fading light and the passing boat traffic while we talked intermittently. We had to pick a yacht to go with our new waterfront home, of course, but we also talked about our studies, winter plans and how to change the world.

Time slipped by and I suddenly realized it was very late and I was way beyond a mild buzz. I never get drunk; I don't drink alone, and I never hang with other people long enough. This was an adverse side effect of dating Jen, apparently. Jen must have been feeling the same, because she suddenly asked me whether we could go back to her place. As an answer I dumped a couple of twenties on the table and gallantly attempted to pull out her chair, with limited success. We managed to stagger out together and get in the car -- which I suddenly realized was a bad idea due to my inability to fish the keys out of my pocket.

So we walked the few blocks to her place, and we made it, but she was hanging around my neck by the time I helped her up the stairs. I tried to pick her up and put her down on the bed in the next room, but I must have tripped on something invisible because I ended up sort of throwing her down on the bed and falling across her.

She said "Kiss me!" and went to sleep.

I dimly realized I might be on the verge of making love to the most beautiful girl in the world but felt like I had been poleaxed. So I decided the morning would be better. She probably wouldn't mind my staying over, as opposed to, say, driving home. The question was where to sleep. The couch seemed an impossibly long way off. I lay down next to her, and I don't remember hitting the pillow.

****

It was dark. Someone was running fingers down my back. I went "Mmmmmmm" and went back to sleep.

Much later something in the back of my brain realized where I was, and I was suddenly wide awake. But the bed's other occupant was still. So I waited. My nerves were screaming.

Eventually some light crept in, and I could see she was still in her plain shirt and cut-offs. She was lying on her stomach. Her ass created a shapely bulge. Her face, toward me, was gorgeous even now, and her sexily rumpled hair rippled gently as she exhaled.

She finally opened one eye. She groaned. "Did I fall on my head?"

"I think I dropped you, but it was on your ass."

"Uuuummmmmm," she stretched. "Well, at least we are still going slow. Although..." she reached over, pulled us together and kissed me.

Oh boy, was I ever ready. Trying to stay cool and calm, I edged closer and put my arm over her as she turned on her side facing me. "You look beautiful hung over!"