Having no idea how I got there from New Holland Brewery (or more likely Parrot’s), I slump down onto the couch of an off-campus swimmer house. “I wanna go to bed,” I mumble, curling up next to a guy, minding his own business, sitting on my left.

“Just a sec…just gonna…sit here for a sec.”

“Lucy!” He shouts in my face, “Lucy!” He is trying to snap me out of it, and his voice is too far away.

“Just for a minute, k?” 

He smiles and nods; Sits there as a human pillow for about five minutes before getting up gently, and setting me down on the couch in the spot he just vacated. I curl up further, dead to the world in the middle of a loud party.

I hear a familiar voice, and squint at a guy walking towards me from across the room, pointing. He makes it to the couch and lowers his face to meet mine, making sure not to spill the contents of his solo cup on the way down.

“Who’s this?” he leans in closer, “Who’s this?” I feel him take my hand, and I open my eyes fully; no more hiding. 

“Lawnmower girl!” he shouts in my face, “Lawnmower girl!!” Referencing my student summer job, and apparent identity.

“Dude noo…don’t judge me!” I moan.

“No, this is awesome, it’s Lawnmower girl,” he says to no one in particular nearby, “you’re here!” 

I weakly swat an arm at him. “don’t judge me…”

For being drunk? For being a landscaper? for sleeping? I’m not sure. I cover my lit face with the arm I’m not lying on top of.

He gently peels it off of me and spills SoCo on the couch, “No, No, this is cool! You’re cool!” 

“Ho-kay,” I laugh.

He stands up smiling, and walks off as I fall back asleep.

As a non-swimmer I spent nearly every day of sophomore year in their section of campus housing, usually drunk. Collecting the benefit of a team without the effort, except that one time, as a eulogist for the missing one.

I only remember the swimmers selflessly, quietly taking care of me as I fell apart, during a time when I don’t remember very much at all.

Lucy, 39