3. faruk
I don’t have any life advice to give. I am not where I thought I would be. Things did not turn out how I thought them to be. It is my own fault. For years I begged the universe to reveal to me the deepest parts of the human psyche. I’ve been enamored by the unknown of the unconcious since I heard it existed. It is no surprise I was given exactly what I asked for but what it was, I was not prepared for. I did not know the mind could go so low. I did not know how mad one could go.
But that’s how I came to know Faruk. The 18-year-old turkish boy who came to America on his first flight ever, for his first job ever, to be the lifeguard at the community pool this summer. In the midst of suburbia, the sound of his international accent brings joy to my ears and a tenderness to my heart. His innocent curiousity for American culture draws me into him. I listen to him as he shares stories about himself and inquires about the lives of his pool guests.
One day, my mother and I are relaxing in the water, sunning on our floats when my mother asks him, do you like your roomates? Faruk says ehhhm... yes. My mother continues, are they good guys? Faruk says ehhhm... I do not know, how do you say... I do not know their hearts... if... deep. To know if they are good or not. It takes him awhile to find the words and my mother responds, in America we would just say ‘they’re okay.’ I say, I like the way he explains it better.
Faruk is a kind, good-looking boy and the talk of community whispers. He exudes the type of energy where those around him are pulled into him, they want to know more. They compliment his english and ask if he misses his family. They teach him how to play card games on rainy days and poker at night. When the gelato truck stops by they buy him a double scoop.
Faruk is the type of guy who blows his whistle to save a frog who’s gotten stuck on the lane divider. He gets lost in his daydreams and I wonder what he’s thinking about. He’s been a witness to the progress of my strength. He’s watched me go from ten laps a day to twenty five. Most days it’s just him and I. We do not say much to each other, we respect the solitude of our shared moments.
Other days, there is a crowd around and a division of our unspoken connection. Only I know how much he talks to his mother on the phone. When he makes mistakes, like the time he forgot to turn the hose off and overflowed the pool or the time he burnt a paper plate in the microwave and made the whole clubhouse smell like fire on bridge night, he admits them graciously and is forgiven with ease. He is simply a young boy growing his deep heart and learning as he goes.