Icy Pole

Beyond my closed eyelids are dark hues of red blinkered with black as I drift down the river. I bask in the peace of the dappled sunlight hitting my face. The soft sting of the Australian sun on my skin, touching every inch of my body. I hear nothing but soothing sounds of the river stream and birds chirping, the earth feels silent. 

I open my eyes. It's too bright at first, but as I adjust I notice I’ve travelled at least 100 metres downstream. I look back and see my towel still slung over a rock. I take a deep breath in, fill my chest with air and breathe out through my lips. 

I roll off my pink blow-up float, in the shape of a heart. My feet sink into the soft muddy banks, a feeling I used to loathe as a child who grew up in the city. I drag my blow-up heart behind me with one arm through the hole and the other in the air helping me balance against the stream. I struggle many times to get back to my towel, I slip on moss-covered rocks, lose balance and scratch my knees. 

As I approach my spot, I notice him laying on the warm rocks in the sun. Eyes closed, headphones in. His arms dangle off the sides, the water runs through his fingers. 

I take a seat on the dirt nearby, grab my beer and take a sip. The can is warm, but the bottom that holds the beer is still cold. I look for a stubby holder in my bag, all of a sudden self-conscious of all my things sprawled out on the dirt. Since coming to this spot as a teenager, I’d never seen another living soul down here. It wasn’t the easiest swimming hole to get to, hidden by the cliff face and rocky, uneven dirt paths covered in overgrown native grass. 

I make enough noise for him to notice, he opens his eyes and pulls his headphones out. His long, brown fringe has now fallen in front of his eyes, “How was your float?” He is a European kind of handsome and has warm energy to him. Something in my gut makes me nervous. I decide I don’t want him to know that. I scrunch my shoulders towards my chest and place my hands on my heart and smile, “Mmmm, so nice.” He laughs. I’m immediately embarrassed, that came off sarcastic and must have looked stupid. Why couldn’t I say something normal like, “Great.”

I’ve only been out of the water for a moment, but the dry heat of the day has already caused me to sweat. Beads form in the middle of my chest. I remember the car is parked 20 minutes away. It's been sitting in the sun all day. I begin to pack my things, sunscreen, empty beer cans, half-eaten crisps and… wait, where are my keys? I scan the dirt and rocks with my eyes, a rush of anxiety lands in my stomach and rushes to my chest and neck. I dig through my bag. A release burns through my chest as I see them in a side pocket of my tote. I never put my keys in that pocket. I shrug it off as me being paranoid and begin to stand. I want to get out of here and go back to being alone.  

He notices my packing. He asks me if I’d like an icy pole for the road. Before I can answer he is reaching for his esky and pulling out a bubble-gum-flavoured icy pole. I don’t know why I said yes, something drew me to him, but something was also telling me to be careful. Most likely only my mother’s paranoid voice in the back of my head. He lays back down and closes his eyes. I take a seat on a rock closer to him and unwrap the plastic wrapper to reveal a glistening bright blue icy wonder. Closing my eyes for a second as I take that first taste, it’s mouthwatering in this heat. It only takes minutes for it to begin dripping down my hands, making everything sticky. I slurp the sweet, melted ice. The air is warm and thick. The sun burns my back.

He opens one eye to peek a glance at me before smirking.