Jenn

“So, the queen is left without a crown,” Jenn joked while fixing her ruffled hair.

“Hold this.” Without hesitating, I gave Jenn my jacket, cell phone, and wallet.

I climbed over the railing and, holding on with one hand to the metal pipe, I extended the other hand to grab the hat. I couldn’t reach it.

“Aah, to hell with it!” Sitting on the edge of the parapet, I lowered my legs and as carefully as I could I descended into the water.

My feet quickly touched the bottom. The water was not cold for February and most importantly was not deep—up to my waist. Taking a few steps in the water, I grasped the hat, which had almost disappeared under it, and turned back. I climbed back onto the piers. My shirt was wet up to my chest, while my pants and shoes, of course, were completely wet—and heavy as concrete.

Jenn turned red from embarrassment, taking from my hands her wet hat, which now resembled a wash rag.

Throwing my jacket on my shoulders, Jenn fussed like a nurse who is readying to administer first aid to a victim.

“Don’t worry, everything is ok,” I said cheerfully.

My conclusion that the water wasn’t cold was a tad premature. My feet, stomach, and groin were quickly getting cold.

“Are you fucking nuts?! We have to go home, home right away!” Jenn kept saying when we left the piers and quickly walked to the car.

“Yes, yes, let’s go home.” I opened the door, started the engine, and turned on the heat.

“You can get sick with bronchitis or, God forbid, pneumonia! And everything because of your unforgivable stupidity!” She quickly retrieved her packages from the back seat.

“Are you really not coming with me?” I asked.

She thought it over for only a few seconds.

“No, you go. I will call myself a cab.”

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