After dinner I take another shower, washing off all the dirt and sweat from cleaning all day, and get changed into some proper pajamas before bed. As I towel dry my hair I debate wearing the necklace to bed, though if my memory is true I don’t like the idea of one of the pearls scalding me when it’s time to leave the memory. I end up tucking it into my pocket again for the night.
It’s harder to fall asleep this time. I’m not as exhausted, and I’m trying my best to focus my thoughts on a specific memory to try and visit. I lay awake and restless for hours. I groan in frustration as I hear the train pass by, I should be asleep by now. A few more hours pass and I find myself unable to maintain focus and silence my mind enough to sleep simultaneously. Maybe I just need a little inspiration.
I sit up and slide to the edge of the bed, grabbing some socks off the floor nearby and yanking them up my legs before standing to search for my boots. Once I’ve found them and my jacket I grab my keys and leave the apartment, locking it behind me. I quickly but carefully descend the stairs and spend more than a few moments searching the office before finally finding the giant metal flashlight I need. I could always use the light from my phone, but this thing has some serious weight to it and if I’m going to be outside alone at night I would like to have something to swing with if I need to. I click the old flashlight on and thank god that it still seems to work. Then with some effort I twist the deadbolt open and unlock the front door pushing hard against it until it swings open with a creak. I step out into the night, stopping to shove the door back into place and lock it behind me, then stare out into the darkness towards the old pool.
This was a terrible idea and I already regret it, but I’ve also already put a lot of effort into it and I would feel very stupid if I stopped now. I begin walking along the fence line until it curves away towards the old trailer house next door, continuing forward, the gravel shifting softly under my feet. I reach the fence around what used to be a playground for my brother and I. I pull the rusty metal latch up and push open the gate, stepping into the now empty area, stopping briefly to examine the broken concrete remnants of where my brother's basketball hoop once was. I continue forward and to my left, towards the decrepit pool house. The wood is too rotten for me to feel safe going in, so instead I pass by it and head towards the edge of the pool. I walk up next to what remains of the old water slide, peering over the edge of the concrete down to the miniature forest below.
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This place, once alive with laughter and joy, had died long ago, and nature was reclaiming the remains. Trees sprout through the cracking concrete bottom and now reach up higher than the decaying pool house, roadrunners nest in the shrubbery that grows denser each year, a small, dirty pond of rainwater pools at the deepest end and occasionally there you can find the snapping turtles that once lived in the creek nearby. I shine the flashlight down into the trees and bushes and see no immediate response. Slowly, I walk around to my left towards the shallowest area, the concrete slope rising steadily at an angle until it meets the pool deck seamlessly. This is the area I remember most. I was still fairly young when we lost the pool, and while I had a few years of diving boards and swimming in the deep end the majority of my time at this pool was spent in the ankle deep water splashing around.
I take in a deep breath of the late night air, tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes and the deep breath becomes a shaky sigh. I can feel the exhaustion sinking in, I know I should’ve been asleep hours ago but I need this to work. Warm tears streak silently down my cheeks as I continue to stare at this graveyard of my childhood summers. Eventually the grief becomes too much and the tears cease their silence, falling instead with hiccuping sobs as I allow myself to slowly fall to my knees on the concrete. I pull my jacket tighter around me for comfort and make conscious effort to slow my breathing. I take a deep gasping breath, and then another, and one more as if I had been drowning and had finally reached safety. The wet streaks on my face have turned cold as the breeze blows my hair gently into them causing strands to stick to my cheeks. I shouldn’t sleep here, it would be dangerous and uncomfortable, but I’m so tired.
Fear defeats exhaustion in the end, and I pull myself to my feet, leaving through the turnstile entrance and trudging back to the rink on the other side of the gravel parking lot. I get the door unlocked and barely manage to yank it open without falling backwards. It takes some effort to pull it all the way closed behind me and I push and pull on it several times to make sure it is actually locked before heading back up the stairs. The upstairs door doesn’t give me nearly as much trouble, easily unlocking to allow me inside and locking behind me without any struggle. I’m once again faced with the ominously dark hallway that I know will creak under my feet at just the wrong moment to frighten me. I groan and lean back against the door, tempted to fall asleep right here instead but knowing I’ll hate myself in the morning if I do. I finally settle for sleeping on the couch, laying out the recliner and pulling a blanket over myself before finally drifting off to sleep.