Splash
Last year summer came early. By August we were easily hitting the thirties and I was risking shorts and t-shirts. At the time I was already fantasising about spending my December in the snow rather than the sticky Brisbane climate.
I arrived home from work early one day to find Dominic and Jordan playing with a tennis ball out by the pool. They had both stripped off their t-shirts and Jordan, a mass of endless energy, was running circles around Dominic as he casually tossed the ball into the afternoon air.
I watched my two brothers from the shade of the veranda for a few minutes. Fifteen years separates me from Jordan and only two from Dominic. Yet, the two of them interact as if there is no difference at all. Jordan swung from Dominic’s arm, one leg looped around his waist as he tried to grab the ball and their laughter echoed in the silence of the suburbs.
After reluctantly pulling on my bikini and a pair of shorts, I joined the two in their ball game. Some how we landed in the pool. Although the air had warmed up, the pool was still freezing. Dominic and I had gone in together, a tangle of long limbs and laughter. I came up for air gasping from the cold at the exact same time Jordan canon balled into the water. His little body flew through the air and he hit the water with a shout. I had just taken a breath when I felt his arms around my neck, pulling me back under. We resurfaced together, spluttering, coughing and wiping water from our eyes.
“That was crazy!” he yelled for our neighbours to hear.
“You’re crazy!” I yelled back, pushing him through the water to Dominic in an attempt to get out and get warm again.
Neither of them, however, were about to let me out so soon. Jordan grabbed my ankle with a shriek of delight. “I got you! I got you! I’ll never let you go!”
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the swimming pool, despite the cold. We laughed and played and swallowed water and got so much chlorine in our eyes they turned pink. That day nothing could have mattered more.
