The Lifeguard (BxB)

David Charleson

As the sliding doors open, I am immediately smacked in the face by the dull sound of water splashing and the immediately smell of chlorine that is bound to stick to my skin for days. Considering I practically live in this place, my eyes have become numb to the sting of the chlorine lingering in the air, something that required a lifeline of eyedrops my first semester at University of Boulder.

Don't get me wrong, I have been able to call this place a second home for these past 3 years for a reason. One, I have to spend more time here than my actual apartment. Why you may ask? Hm let's see, I decided that I wanted to follow my passion for dance. My dad, not a big fan. I grew up in your stereotypical small town in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. My dad was your stereotypical football loving all American dreamer. He used to tell me; "son, I want you to get out of this town, to make something of yourself."

Let's just say that he didn't react too kindly to my lack of hand eye coordination and hatred for business. I did not exactly fit his mould for a perfect son.

Did he disown me? Nah. Rather, it's like he cringes when I talk about my dancing. He was still supportive on the outside. He never told me I couldn't do anything or forbade me. It simply felt like I was suddenly a stranger to him. Conversations did not come naturally after I decided to ditch the football for a different set of tights and jock straps.

What a difference the context made.

My mom, however, could not have been more thrilled to hear of my decision to leave the football behind. She had always been terrified for my brain. I was never a big dude, but I was fast. She would always tell me she didn't want to find out I was "turned into a puddle of brains on the football field."

Also, my mom had always found some pride in my discovered love of dance. Everyone used to tell me that I was "so much like my old man." I mean, I get what they meant, we shared the same curly brown hair, green eyes, tanned skin, and slightly crooked smile. I got my height from him for sure, I overtook my mom in height by the time I was 13.

Despite my physical evidence that I was my dad's "flesh and blood." I got my soft nature from my mom. It has become the family joke that my sister, who resembles much more of my mother, should have been my father's son. She was a tomboy. My dad was traditional in all the ways, except his belief that football is a man's sport. Why? Because my sister inherited the hand eye coordination that I always lacked. He wanted there to be a place for HER to athletically show off. She almost managed to turn my all American football dad, into a soccer lover. Almost.

Well anyway, I'm sure you guys didn't come here for my sob story of a kid who couldn't live up to daddy's expectations. I threw everything I had into my dancing. In my mind, if I was going to sacrifice "the easy path", I better make it count. So I did. I ended up getting scouted during a showcase and was offered a scholarship to go to Boulder University. There it came, my ticket out of nowhere Nebraska. Smooth sailing right?

Eh. That ticket only provided enough to cover tuition, and believe it or not, living in the dorms, though convenient, was absolutely not an option. So where did I end up? Living with some random guy I found online who also went BU. Despite our differences, he was actually not a bad guy. I honestly felt for him, he didn't exactly have the nicest upbringing and was trying to make the best of it just like me. Unfortunately for me, he was a night owl with afternoon classes, I had 8 am dance class and no car. Not to mention my 5 am opening shifts, but I'll get to that in a second.

Let's just say, if it was not for both of our passive natures, we would not have survived the year we lived together, let alone be able to be cordial when we somehow pass eachother on the giant campus grounds. I wonder how he is doing at times, must be at least surviving considering he is still in the architecture program after 3 years.

That brings me to my current living situation. In an act of God, or whoever is up there making shit happen, (I don't judge) I ended up leaving my jacket in the practice room after an 8 am dance class. I stumbled upon a couple of classmates whining that their senior roomate was graduating and they would have to fork over his portion of the rent. I, not so subtly, eavesdropped and paused right as I reached for my jacket. One of the girls gave me a side-eye and a 'What are you looking at?' Expression. I swallowed my passive nature aside and went for it. What can I say I was desperate! I told them about my situation, after apologizing profusely for listening in of course, and although hesitant at first, their desperation for the extra funds made it a perfect match. They needed money, I needed roomates who also had to be out early. That, is how I met my now best friends, Andrea, Mathew, and Derek.

Oof what a tangent. Anyways, that brings you to the point you probably have been waiting for for the last literal 1000 words, how I ended up meeting the one and only Pierce Nolan. Sorry to break it to you, but once again we will get to that. You need some back story first.

You see... I ended up landing the PERFECT college gig. The pay was decent, the hours were as long or short as you needed, and the view.. not bad if you know what I mean. I found myself working at not just any ordinary pool, but THE college swimming facility where only the college teams and Olympic level swimmers were allowed to practice. About as low risk for a Lifeguard as you could get. Well, that is until the divers show up and plummet from a height equivalent to a two story building, only to land on their stomachs. Yikes... not a sight, or sound for that matter, that you would want to have ingrained into your brain. But hey, on a normal day, it wasn't so bad. Once you get used to the humidity, the stinging of chlorine gas in your eyes, and the mundane sight of the clock counting down the seconds while the sound of whistles and water fades into the background, it was a million times better than any retail job that faces you with Karens of the world yapping about how their specific shade of blue jeans is not among the dozens available. Yes I am speaking from personal experience.

Life for me, although predictable and maybe a little boring, was going swell. I had one year left until I could go off to really experience life, maybe even get a job as a backup dancer to be able to travel the world if I was lucky.

Little did I know, that at this very job, where time seemed to be an illusion, would be the place where my boring, predictable life, would get a big old wrench stuck in it. A wrench by the name of Pierce Nolan.