Feels like Home (Lake Fisher 2)

“What the hell are you idiots doing?” calls a female voice from the bridge.

“Oops. I think we might be in trouble,” Jake says, still treading water.

We all look up at the place on the bridge from where we just jumped. I recognize that voice. After a moment Bess leans over the edge of the rail.

“Hey, Bess,” Aaron calls, waving at her. “We jumped off the bridge.” He fills his mouth with water and spits it at me.

“Have you been drinking?” she scolds, but she’s laughing.

“Have we been drinking?” Mr. Jacobson mocks. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“Mr. Jacobson? You too?” She sounds shocked. She looks down at the clothes around her feet. “Are you all naked?” she asks, clearly astounded.

We all point to Mr. Jacobson and say in unison, “He is!”

Then we all laugh so hard we can’t catch our breath and Bess laughs from up above. Suddenly, she freezes. “Um, guys?”

And then I see them. The blue lights go around and around, illuminating the bridge. The short but loud peal of a siren signals the arrival of the cops.

“Fuck,” Jake mutters.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a man’s voice says from above, as a spotlight shines down on us, illuminating all our faces one by one. “Mr. Jacobson, is that you?” the cop asks, lingering on Mr. Jacobson, who is now floating on his back paddling in circles as he shoots water from his mouth like a whale

“It’s him, Robbie!” Jake calls back.

“Well, get him out of there, Jake!” the man calls back.

“We’re on our way,” Jake says as he kicks toward the shore. He grabs Mr. Jacobson’s foot to drag him along, since he has no clothes on. Then we all climb out of the lake. Mr. Jacobson walks, still bare-ass naked, toward the golf cart.

Bess gasps and spins to face the other direction. “You could have given a girl some warning!” she cries as she covers her face.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Aaron says, laughing hysterically.

“Do I need to take you guys in for being drunk and disorderly?” the cop asks. He shines his light on the sign that says no jumping. “Or will you disperse peacefully?”

Mr. Jacobson raises one fist in the air. “I do nothing peacefully!” he cries. But Jake covers his mouth quickly.

“We’ll take him home,” Jake says, shushing his dad.

“You might want to get him in some clothes first, Jake,” the cop warns.

“You might want to get a personality, Little Robbie Gentry,” Mr. Jacobson chides.

“Sorry, Robbie,” Jake mutters. “He never drinks like this. Well, rarely.”

“Wait,” Aaron says. “You’re Little Robbie? Man, I haven

’t seen you since we were kids. So you’re a state trooper now just like your dad, huh? Cool.”

And suddenly it’s like rolling back the years as our memories are flooded with good times at the lake. Little Robbie’s looks have changed some, of course, but there’s still a spark of that mischievous boy inside that uniform of authority.

Relieved that we aren’t all going to jail for indecent exposure, Jake starts to dress Mr. Jacobson piece by piece, amid playful protests. Thankfully, Mr. Jacobson is as funny of a drunk as Jake is. He lets out a fart that rivals Jake’s and says, “That’s how you do it, boys.”

“Oh my God,” mutters Bess, still looking in the other direction.

“You can look,” Aaron calls out to her. “He’s decent.”

“I have never been decent a day in my life!” Mr. Jacobson loudly protests.