Fortunately Mya came over to congratulate me just in time.
I choked at the sweet petal fragrance of her body splash and grimaced at how the whole activity seemed to have produced the opposite affect on her. Was it just me or did Mya have a glow? I was dripping loads of sweat whereas Mya's skin had a healthy shine to it as if she'd set herself up in a suite at the Villas of Grand Cypress.
As if I wasn't ashamed enough by all the comparisions, Mya high-fives me; hairline free of perspiration. Honestly could the girl look any more rejuvenated. Mya smiles. "Way to go!! You did great." Without asking she dragged me to the fountain.
What a doll I thought numbly. With her as my guide I used what leftover powers of endurance I had and pushed myself beyond what I'd once conceived impossible. I grimaced. Now all I wanted to do was sit and never stand back up but Ms. Pratt wasn't done and I had a feeling that was not good.
One clumsy step after the other I raised both feet and thanks to Mya showing me the way, crossed the basketball court without embarrassing myself in front of the entire senior class.
The highly distinctive drinking fountain was very much in the Gothic Revival style and the triangular upper part of the front of the structure was built in a classical style surmounting a portico of columns. The teeply pitched gabled pediment that was flanked by gabled end piers had a band of five-petalled floral ornaments in the molding of the pediment; a circle divided by four arcs in the middle, the eight peddled stylised flower inlaid with colored hard stone.
Like a "Return To Tiffany's" key in sterling silver beneath that was a trefoil headed arch inlaid with a green glazed tile mosaic. In the direct center at the second lobe was a metal cross and water spout. With a shaking hand I took my hair in one piece and bent over the whitish-grey limestone and red sandstone basin drinking fountain. The resemblance was striking.
The bowl with a scalloped base was made of marble, and hitting the toe cap of my smudged grey converse, the paneled pedestal on its granite base was reminiscent of a baptismal front. Wheezing and asthmatic, I looked up at the band underneath the circle and exhaled as a rush of blissful unbridled peace struck me with the most divine sensation as if a pastor had thrown holly water on my face.
"Here we are. When you're ready I'll push the button." Mya tells me patiently.
All I could do was nod.
Still overcome with His Holy Presence, I smiled and for the briefest moment could swear I felt something move through me, in me, until whatever it was had rested above me as if it were my guiding angel come to keep me close. Once upon a time and in a different life misery had gotten in the way and held back my happiness. Maybe it wasn't real and I'd made it all up because I was dehydrated but I didn't want life to be bleak and lacking and I didn't want to let my loneliness hold me back from the joy and gratification that I was entitled to.
I stared at the band underneath the circle as if it were holding all the important parts of me together. With great care I studied the band as if the verbalization somehow held all the answers I was searching for.
I bowed my head and when I'd closed my eyes I saw in relief the words, "For I Will Pour Water On Him That Is Thirsty" in Gothic lettering.
Under British Listed Buildings and if I'd tagged William Dyce in the Victorian Web toolbar like I sometimes did when I was bored and had nothing better to do, the back would have that same banding, and even though I knew there was only one in existence my interest piqued.
If I were on the computer right now I knew by distinct memory that if I'd looked any closer I would have seen ERECTED / BY PUBLIC SUBSCRIPTION / A.D. 1862 followed by the name of the rector and the two churchwardens- one of whom was Dyce himself- a band of flowers beneath the pediment, and a stylized rose below that.
The whole drinking fountain was quite striking and served as a memorial to its devout Anglo-Catholic designer. It's a noted piece of street furniture, used as an emblam of the Streatham Society, a local amenity group. So the question remained.
How long was the water fountain in the gymnasium passed off for the real deal and did the headmistress know her ridiculously overpriced interior designer falsified papers to cut corners and jipped the Academy Board of Trustees into buying an imposter knockoff just so he could keep the pruning's and trimmings all to himself. Too passible for a fake. This was done by a professional with a good eye for British historical items. Could be a twin no one knew about, I'd supposed. When checking the authenticity for a timeline anything was possible of course.
The prestigious Academy could afford ridiculous expensive lavish things so why that one? What did the Board of Trustees think was so special about a fake? So many questions and there was only one person I'd figured I could talk to about it but I wasn't too sure if she'd let me.
Bonkers and totally fruity, I had the insane idea to tell Mya all about what I'd just discovered.
I looked-for and had wanted to ask Mya about the fountain but mid-stride a vital force had stopped me from saying anything. No point in doing that. She would look at me like I was plain nuts.
The comparisons were instantaneous and I could hear that snide voice taunting me again.
Fashion wise, Mya was a Model Booker and I was worlds apart from Street Style with my bizzaro socks that were in no way cool and limited vintage sunglasses collection. Maybe it was self-seeking but I liked talking to Mya and I didn't want her to catch on to what I really was. A freak that could see things she couldn't explain. I'd gotten used to keeping my mouth shut.
Unless people were open and receptive to the idea I couldn't tell anyone who wasn't ready to listen. I'd evolved into a pattern and was okay with having all that knowledge to myself and I certainly never wondered what it would be like if other people asked me about my Mediumship. That would have been like someone asking me to watch them eat Oreos inside out.
"Did you say something?" Mya asked me
Laughing, I told her to go ahead and press the thing.
If I admitted that I preferred architecture in place of people Mya would cast me off as plain vanilla and then everyone would know I wasn't right upstairs. I had dealt with that at one high school. History recapturing itself was a vicious cycle I was careful to not let happen again.
While Mya pushed down the bar I curved my lips ready to catch the refreshing tap water.
Not long afterwards both remaining girls passed the finish line and after replaying our final scores Ms. Pratt gave us permission to go ahead and clear on out. The day passed on pretty much the same with me all bummed out that I didn't see Wesley or his perfectly nice friend, Mason, either.
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