“If I come in, it’s going to be in my underwear!” Edwin shouted. He killed the can of Old Style and let it fall to the bottom of the paper bag. He placed the paper bag on the ground next to the others.
The Lake, freezing cold still. July. Hot days have no effect till August. Even now, with a string of sweltering humidity, the water would be around 60 degrees. Dragonflies everywhere. Purplish, green glinted wings off the sun. In the distance, the haze-enveloped skyline. It rains in the afternoons over the middle of the Lake. The rains wash out to the shores. To Chicago’s beaches. Icy cold. Cloud-direct.
He was thinking that he didn’t want to take his pants off, but the water looked clear and inviting. It was a calm day. No wind, but still cooler by the Lake than in town. Edwin squinted down at Matthew, who had bobbed over to two chicks with enormous breasts wearing small bikinis. They were about 40 yards out from the rocks and up to their belly buttons in water.
“You hear me Matty?” he yelled.
Matthew looked up at the rocks toward Edwin, but cupped his hand to his ear. He shrugged and said something to one of the girls. She threw her hand up to her mouth and seemed to bend over laughing. She splashed Matthew, who threw up his arms to defend himself against the water.
“Shit,” Edwin said to himself. He thought of his saggy tighty-white underwear, and then of the Lake. The thing is, you go in the Lake, and the rest of the day you feel cool. Impervious to heat. A superhero possessing a power over the summer. But until you’re all the way in, getting into the Lake is a daunting task.
“Shit,” Edwin said to himself. He stood up.
He took off his pants and laid them next to his shoes and socks. He stood up and held his hands at his side in his underwear. No one seemed to notice at all.
“Hey Matty,” he shouted toward Matthew, who had found a beach ball somewhere on the surface of the Lake. Matthew didn’t look over.
“Hey yo Matt,” he yelled again. Matthew had gotten into an all out splash war with one of them.
“Hey Marine!” he screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth.
And this time Matthew looked over and threw his hands in the air. And right then Edwin thought of himself, silhouetted against the sky, above the Lake. He thought of himself standing there in his underwear, saggy around him.
“You fucker,” Edwin said to himself. “You fucker, here I am. Here I am.”
