The movie marathon was losing its steam, the plot as predictable as the yawn escaping my lips. Just as I considered calling it a night and heading to bed, my phone rang. Kenneth's name flashed on the screen, bringing me back to reality. With a swipe, I answered, his excited voice cutting through the room.
"Hey, Kushy!" Kenneth's voice boomed with excitement.
"Hey, what's up?" I replied, curious about the late-night call.
“Bro, you know my birthday will be coming up this Saturday and I will be throwing a party at Play House,” he said, his voice practically vibrating over the phone
A groan escaped my lips. "Another party, Kenneth? The one of last year was pretty boring.”
His voice practically vibrated over the phone, “Trust me on this one bro, it will be epic! Just make sure you turn up that day.”
With a promise to attend, we bid each other farewell and the call ended. A wave of anticipation washed over me, tinged with a flicker of nervous sweat on my palms. My fingers hovered over the phone’s screen, but my mind was already at Play House. What am I going to wear? How big will the party be? Who is going to be there? The anticipation was a sweet longing, a desire for connection and carefree laughter.
The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation as I pulled up to Play House, a gleaming fortress of luxury. Stepping onto the grounds, I was immediately welcomed by the chlorine-tinged air, a sign that the pool party was in full swing. My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for my friends amid the vibrant chaos.
Finally, I caught a wave and some familiar grin, their faces lighting up like beacons in the sea of bodies. Handshakes were exchanged, marked by relieved laughter and excited chatter. The party had begun, and I was ready to dive in.
My gaze drifted to the pool, its turquoise surface beckoning me but I remained rooted to my chair. A year ago, that very pool had been the stage for a watery nightmare, a memory that clung to me like white on rice. Despite the music and friends' chatters, the noise faded, replaced by the echo of memory, pulling me back to that fateful day….
The same Play House, a year ago, pulsed with a different kind of energy. Laughter danced in the air, marked by splashes from the pool, already alive with swimmers. Four years had passed since I had last felt the cool embrace of water, yet I openly bragged about being a very good swimmer.
I took a deep breath and plunged into the pool with a booming “cannonball!” But the promised coolness of the water was replaced by a sudden shock. Panic clawed at my throat as I lost control, limbs flailing like a beached fish gasping for air. The cool water, once inviting, now felt heavy and suffocating.
My frantic legs, thankfully, found the pool floor. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, I hauled myself out, eyes stinging like they had been dipped in chlorine, blurring the world into a watery mess. Emerging, I plastered on a smile, a flimsy shield against my heart pounding faster than a race car at full throttle.
The sharp snap of a finger dragged me back from the watery depths of my memory. I blinked, realizing I was still glued to my seat, eyes fixated on the pool like a mesmerized frog.
Ebuka, his laughter edged with amusement, nudged me. "You've been eyeing the pool like it holds the secrets of the universe. Just change and jump in if you want.”
I swallowed hard, my smile strained. “Yeah,” I mumbled.
My heart hammered a nervous rhythm against my ribs as I slipped away to the changing room. Back at the pool's edge, the joyous shrieks and splashing painted a picture of carefree fun, yet a knot of fear remained lodged in my throat. I sat down at the edge of the pool and gingerly dipped my legs into the water. It was cold and seemed to be inviting me to come in. Would I dare accept it?
Slowly, I lowered myself, embracing the chill and uncertainty. I dipped my face into the water, the initial panic giving way to a tentative peace, and then, with a deep breath, I gingerly lifted my feet off the floor. Buoyancy, a forgotten friend, welcomed me back. An hour later, I found myself circling the pool, my strokes a bit clumsy, but the fear was replaced by a quiet determination.
With each stroke, I reclaimed lost confidence, navigating the waters with newfound humility. As the sun dipped, I emerged from the pool, heart brimming with a quiet satisfaction. I had faced my fear, not conquered it, but learned to coexist with it. With a cold drink in hand, I joined the pulsating rhythm of the music, my body moving freely, a joyful testament to my small victory which tasted sweeter than any drink.
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Edited with Canva