Depression, Love, and Swimming Pools

He watched his brother float and battled visions of his father's corpse. "Mother says you've been in there for two days," he called out.

"I got out to sleep," Derrick protested.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Nothing."

"Have you been eating?" Cale asked.

"Haven't felt like it."

"Would you like to come in now?"

"Not really," Derrick answered.

Cale held back a groan. Why was it always like this? He thought, as he looked around and found the shepherd's crook. They had used it to tow their father out of the water, but Cale was more accustomed to using it to collect Derrick. He stood at the edge of the pool and hooked Derrick around the middle on the first try. His brother didn't fight it as Cale pulled him over to the side of the pool. "Don't make me get all wet pulling you out of there," he said.

Derrick righted himself and folded his wet arms on the cement at Cale's feet. "Hello, Cale."

"Hi."

Derrick didn't say anything else. He simply hefted himself out of the water. Cale had to back away to avoid his shoes getting wet. Derrick was only wearing a pair of white boxer shorts, rendered pointless by the water. Cale could see his long, thin cock and tangle of dark pubic hair. He knew his eyes lingered too long; when he looked up, his eyes met Derrick's and he knew he'd been caught. Derrick walked over to a lounge chair and picked up his blue terrycloth robe and wrapped himself up. "Did Mother call you home to deal with me?"

"Do I look like someone who would drive four hundred miles just to save you from drowning yourself? It's spring break".

"Ah," Derrick said, as he walked past Cale into the house. Cale let the shepherd's crook fall to the ground and followed his older brother.