‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ I say, bobbing in the water.
‘Kiddo, an apology is unnecessary. Why bring it up again, it’s not an issue?’
‘But I—’
‘Why are you still carrying this, Nat?’
Why am I? I don’t know.
‘I loved last night. It was so much fun. Thank you for organizing it,’ Dolores says, changing the tone.
‘Bruce did most of the heavy lifting. Do you think he’s in love with you?’
Dolores flips some water at me. ‘What does it mean to be in love?’
‘He fancies you and he does nice stuff for you.’
‘Can’t a man and a woman be friends?’
‘I don’t know, can they? I’ve never really had male friends.’
‘Short answer is, yes, they can. And because Bruce is divorced and I’m divorced doesn’t mean we should get together. You know people can be perfectly fine on their own. There’s all this bloody pressure put on relationships. People always hoping that others will complete them, be their other half. It’s dangerous. We’re already whole. Don’t halve yourself for someone.’
She averts her gaze to something behind me.
‘Well, speak of the flaming devil,’ Dolores says and in an instant hops out of the pool. She wraps her towel around herself and kisses Bruce’s cheek.
‘My favourite sexagenarian,’ Bruce says. ‘I’ve been looking for you, ladies.’
He’s wearing his sandal – sock combo.
I say, ‘Oh fuck,’ in a low voice. How can I get out of the pool without Bruce seeing me? I can’t. I’m trapped. I plunge underwater and swim to the edge. Hide by the wall.
Bruce waves at me and tells Dolores about calling around yesterday to see if everything was in order for the party.
‘You pair of snakes,’ Dolores says, jokily. ‘I knew nothing. I couldn’t have even expected it. Not on a weekday.’
‘We’re a good team.’ Bruce winks at me. I duck closer to the wall. ‘I wanted to invite you for lunch with me and my boys. No surprises. You two glorious women and us cowboys.’
‘Sure.’ Dolores looks expectantly at me. ‘You coming, kiddo?’
‘No, I – I’m going to Skype my friends at home. So I won’t join.’ I can’t bear the thought of getting out of the pool in front of Bruce. Even sacrificing a meal would be a lesser hell than that.
Dolores stares at me for a moment. ‘Maybe get a taxi later and follow us in?’
I half-nod. Ahmed’s handsome face comes to mind.
‘You’ll be okay on your own, Natalie,’ she says. I’m not sure if it’s a statement or a question.
She smiles and walks away with Bruce. I hear her laugh at his jokes.
I swim for a while and get out when I think enough time has passed for them to be gone. I like the idea of an empty house. I can chill out. Eat in peace.
I lounge around for the early afternoon, wonder whether to call Ahmed and get a taxi and meet Dolores and Bruce, but instead I watch a made-for-TV movie and mull over options of what to have for dinner.
It’s still hot out and I enjoyed my swim earlier so I get a notion that if I have another swim, my head will be clear, I can order and eat a pizza without guilt and have a lovely evening solo.
I turn the coffee maker on and grind some beans, place a cup under it.
I go upstairs and change into my bikini again, which is still damp from earlier. I look in the mirror at myself. How do people become comfortable wearing these things? I step into my pink high heels, and being higher up makes me feel less roundy. I take them off; my feet are sore and blistered from wearing them last night.
Instead I put my sunglasses on and look in the mirror. The tinted view is more flattering, I have a bit of distance from the bright light harshness of my figure. I pretend to be someone else as I walk around the room.
I go downstairs to get my coffee, still wearing the sunglasses.
In the kitchen, I feel undercover with my eyes behind the darkened plastic. A different version of myself. I sip the coffee and lean against the counter.
The code is beeped in from outside. I put the cup down and dash towards the stairs but it’s too late. The door has already opened, a shock of orange.
I look around for something, anything, to cover myself up and grab a cushion. I place it in front of my bikini shorts, then over my chest but move it to cover my belly.
‘Natalie, is—’ Keano seems lost, unable to find what he’s going to say.
He stops talking and his eyes are down. He won’t look up. I lift my shades for a moment, to see if it’s because he can’t find my eyes. It’s not that. He’s speaking to my breasts.
‘I have to fix the – in your room. Where is—’
‘Where is?’
He makes some muddled sound. Then he looks at himself, checking, and tilts himself away from me slowly.
‘Do you—’ he says and lets his voice trail off again. ‘Is the woman? You know?’
I relax my grip on the cushion. Keano’s more self-conscious than me. I gather some poise, stand straighter. Adrenaline courses through my body. I allow myself to smile at him.
‘She’s gone out with Bruce. She’ll be back tonight, if that’s what you’re asking?’
‘And you? Are you?’ He clumsily moves his arm to block the side of his body.
‘I’m going for a swim. I assume you’ll let yourself out when you’re done. See you later, Keano,’ I say, walking by him with my head up, feeling his eyes still on me, following my soft white ass as I move.
At the pool, I dive in and realize I’ve never been this heavy before. I tread the water. My body has made me feel ugly.
No. I made myself feel ugly. My body is getting all this attention.
I look down at myself, wondering when Keano stared at me, what did he see? When Ahmed proposed? Bruce and his flickering gaze?
I undo the thick strings of the halter neck and lower them. I look around. There’s nobody about. A nipple sneaks out from under the loose material. I check around again. I leave it out. No birds fall from the sky. No tumultuous roar. Life goes on. I leave it like that for a moment. The afternoon sun bakes behind thick ashy clouds. When will the rain come?
I click the clasp of the bikini top and take it off. Throw it poolside.
These breasts, bigger than I’ve ever known them to be. Too big to cup. An armful.
This softening body. I lie back, breathing saturated air and float weightless in the pool.
Something quivers in the shadows behind me and I turn my head quickly. But nobody’s there. It’s just palm leaves rustling languidly, the splut of the water, me and my body – maybe they aren’t such separate things after all.
Please
I hold the document with my left hand as the fingers of my right hand drift over the numerical side of the keyboard, rapidly pushing numbers to enter them onto the screen in front of me. I pause after every twenty or so, click File Save, and check if they’re correct. Kelly approaches my colleague, the other side of my cubicle. I can’t see him without craning my neck over the partition, but she’s in clear view from her torso up, in an immaculate white blouse and pink crystal choker. She flips her glossy hair behind her shoulder.
‘It’s my birthday tonight. Food in Murray’s at seven. Then we’ll go to Courtenay Place for a bop after. Bring a friend,’ she says and rotates to the next cubicle across from him, repeating her speech. It always seems like she’s aware of her mouth, of how her lips are being viewed.
I haven’t any plans for the evening other than swimming. Kelly preens herself and struts in an anti-clockwise direction. She invites the other staff who sit at their L-shaped desks in our workstation.
She gets to my cubicle and gives me a fake smile but says nothing. Her brown patent leather heels squeak on the linoleum as she moves to the workspace across the way.