Same shit, different day
Jeremy and Andrew are lifeguards for the summer.
There was a saying Andrew liked to apply to the summer break: “Same shit, different day.” It was true that his days each brought the familiar routine of donning his uniform—a disgustingly bright red tank top and shorts that scraped his inner thighs raw when wet—and driving his mother’s car to the local public pool. From there, he would deal with the same cohort of squealing children, hairy-chested men, geriatric water-exercisers and women in large straw hats, until the sun was low and the sky turned a colour Andrew dubbed Freedom Orange.
The letters in front of the days were ever-changing, but the shit was invariably the same.
A sudden splash of water on Andrew’s sun-warmed skin startled him out of his half-doze. Not that Andrew could ever fall asleep in a plastic chair so uncomfortable, let alone a public pool teeming with people who were his responsibility to watch. Still, the sameness had lulled him into a kind of calm. He shook it off with the water droplets already seeping through the fabric of his armbands.
‘You know, you’re going to get crazy tan lines wearing those all summer.’
Andrew didn’t need to look up to see who had spoken. ‘Worry less about my tan lines and more about the kid in lane three, Jeremy.’
Sure enough, Jeremy followed Andrew’s gaze to where a dark head was bobbing just along the surface of the water. Andrew reached for a floatation ring, lobbing it in the kid’s direction before Jeremy could make a move. They both watched the ring soar through the air and land right within the kid’s reach. The kid pulled themselves up, coughing and then gagging.
Jeremy ran over to the podium close to the kid, performing the usual routine of finding their carers and suggesting they head back to the kiddie pool for now. All of the nonsense Andrew never bothered with.
The kid was alive. As far as Andrew was concerned, his job was done.
‘Nice throw,’ Jeremy said upon his return.
Andrew hummed. ‘Terrible catch.’
‘What?’
‘If you had been watching the pools instead of me, you could have caught that far sooner,’ Andrew elaborated. ‘Someone almost died because of your lapse in attention. That’s gross negligence.’
Jeremy tutted, amused. ‘What would you suggest, criminal justice major? Should I plead guilty and ride out the punishment?’
‘Just change your name and flee the country,’ said Andrew. ‘You would never survive prison.’
‘I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two from your juvie days.’
Andrew held up a finger in response. Just one.
Jeremy’s laughter was as bright as the light reflecting off the water, sending a ripple of reluctant amusement through Andrew’s chest.
There were people who would say these things to incite a fight, but Jeremy and his soft pink mouth sought only to reassure Andrew. You are worth talking to. You are worth joking with. It’s the same shit, different day, but not all of it has to be shit.