Fletch, Too

“Strip and dip,” Carr said.

Fletch already had his sneakers and wool socks off. Carr had said he did not want to guess the temperature in either degrees centigrade or Fahrenheit. He said figuring such an astronomical number would thin his hair.

It was hot.

The other side of the none-too-serious fence, behind the fishing lodge’s cabins, were a few of the Turkana tribe. Not all wore clothes.

Fletch dropped his cutoff ski pants. He plunged into the swimming pool.

“YOW!”

Standing on the pool edge, Carr laughed. “Something to write home about?”

“This is impossible! It’s freezing! Is it just the contrast, because I’m so hot?”

“No. The water temperature really is near freezing.”

Fletch’s teeth were chattering. “How do they do it?”

The fishing lodge at Lake Turkana was a terrace, an open wooden lodge, and a half-dozen wooden cabins on a sand bluff overlooking the lake.

“They don’t do it. The rate of evaporation in this heat is so rapid the water in a pool like this gets very cold indeed. Would you believe it?”

Hugging his own shoulders, Fletch said, “I believe it. You coming in?”

“Not on your life. You think I’m crazy?”

Fletch did a fast crawl to the ladder and pulled himself out of the pool.

“Swimming pools are for tourists,” Carr said.

“This one sure is.”

Fletch stood shivering on the pool ledge. Carr looked down Fletch’s body and frowned. “Is that a birthmark?”

Fletch looked down at himself. The lowest right side of his stomach was blue. The mark was bigger than a fist. It was as big as an outstretched hand.

Fletch said, “I must have been born again.”

Carr leaned over and prodded Fletch’s flesh with his fingers. “First birthmark I ever saw that’s swollen.”

“I didn’t even feel it,” Fletch said. “I must have bumped into something in the hotel room. A strange hotel room. In the dark …”

“Sorry,” Carr said. “None of my business.”

Fletch prodded with his own fingers the great blue welt where Barbara had hit him. It didn’t hurt.

Carr said, “I’ll be on the terrace, when you’re ready. I’ll buy us shandies before lunch.”

For a moment, Fletch sat on the pool edge, his feet in the cold water.

Then he dropped forward into the water. He thought of drowning.

Shortly he climbed out of the pool. He pulled on his cutoff ski pants, his socks, laced his sneakers, and went to join Carr on the terrace.