Skinny Dipping (11 page)

“It’s not.”

“Tell me more about how you are going to use the lacrosse stick that’s still sitting by your desk in its wrapper?”

“I might like lacrosse. Bradley does. He spoke about it last week.”

“Well. I’ll repeat my message. You don’t have time to use any of this sporting equipment. You might pick up a hobby but for right now you’re signed up for these swimming lessons. No more consuming. Okay? Do you know how many minutes I have to spend looking at your packages? It can’t go on. Can not, will not continue.”

“Okay. I get it, I’ve been a little trigger-happy on the mouse, clicking away, buying a few items.”

Jessica leaned forward, hands firmly on the desk. “If that’s what you call it.”

Sophie nodded, picking up the package trying to change the subject. “I have no idea what it could be.”

Jessica swatted her hand. “Oh no, you don’t. I can’t make this easy anymore.” Jessica’s face transformed from a grin, into a look of menace. Her hands worked nimbly, like she was an expert in knitting, fingers flying, slashing open the package.

“It’s marked personal,” Sophie stated. “It could be anything.”

“Hmm…like sporting equipment? What’s so personal about that? At least I know what’s going on in your head every now and again when I open your mail.”

“It could be absolutely anything.”

“What you’ve got some other fetish I don’t know about? Is it something exciting, x-rated, like edible underwear?”

“What use would something x-rated be when I don’t have a boyfriend. You said it, they simply chuck me.”

“Maybe it’s something else that could help you out in that area?” Jessica pushed the flaps of the box down, peered inside. “Oh my God.”

“What? What is it?”

“You were right. You need this.”

“What? A book? An exercise ball?”

“A vibrator.” Jessica giggled, her voice carrying through to each corner of the office, and probably breaking ice out in the Arctic as well.

Sophie cringed. “Give me that.” She snatched the cardboard box. There was an item, wrapped in tissue paper, long, rectangular, but the shape of a shoe box. Clearly not a vibrator. Too flat to actually be shoes inside. She picked it up, feeling the weight. Very light. She hurriedly peeled back the tissue paper, her curiosity mounting. This was too light to be the inflatable ball she’d purchased. She extracted a yellow, plastic kickboard.

Out of all the things she’d purchased over the last week she did not purchase this. There was some type of mistake. The shop had made a mistake.

“I knew it.” Jessica shrieked. “I bloody knew it, more blooming sporting equipment. What the hell do you need a kickboard for?”

Yes. Why indeed did she need a kickboard? Then she realised. “Swimming lessons,” Sophie swallowed as comprehension became clear, she’d bought the swimsuit, agreed over email. Although swimming wasn’t a sport she exactly fantasized doing, never being one on Derek’s list either, she somehow was on the swimming trajectory. Propelling forward as if she was going to go through with it.

“No, no, no.” Jessica continued. “This simply can not go on.”

Sophie held the kickboard with shaking hands, watching as Jessica extracted more items.

“A bathing cap? Goggles? Really, Sophie? What’s all this for? You better show me your pool membership. I have high doubts that you’re actually planning to go to this pool.” Jessica held the items by the tips of her fingers, displaying them like dirty laundry, for the entire office to see.

“For your information I have a swimming lesson booked. Matthew Silver left that message that there was a free spot left. Remember?”

Jessica narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t believe you’ll actually take the lesson, you’d actually have to make time. Personal time. That’s the reason why you didn’t arrange one with his receptionist, you don’t make time.”

“Oh I must make time.” Sophie suddenly felt the need to justify it. “You see, Matthew Silver would be absolutely appalled if I didn’t learn how to swim considering I personally developed his ‘
Swimming is for Living’
campaign.”

Jessica was sceptical. “When are you going?”

“We’ve postponed until next week, Thursday.”

“Okay, you can have this particular package of sporting equipment. What time are you tearing yourself from your desk?”

“The lesson starts at eight o’clock, so I have to leave by seven,” Sophie said quietly.

“I want you to send me video footage of the first dip or I’m not delivering you any more mail. I’m returning it all to sender.”

“You can’t do that. I get work mail sent here.”

“Oh, but I can. I may be the lowest pleb in the office, but I’m also custodian of the mail.” Jessica gave Sophie a menacing look, wicked, pure evil.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? You know Sophie, if you gave me a little bit of advertising work so I could get some experience I might not be so caught up in other people’s mail.” Jessica flopped back into her chair, shaking her head. “Think how I, a student of advertising can help you. Let me help you.”

Sophie nodded, she’d heard Jessica’s pitch before. “Help me to help you,” Jessica repeated. She wanted to help on campaigns. But Sophie would have to teach her, and time was important. “And Sophie, you need my help, so you can find some work-life balance. You got chucked because you have no time. You don’t want to be spinster Sophie do you?”

Sophie felt her face flush. She got chucked because Derek cheated. She quickly snatched the items together from Jessica’s desk, placing them back in the cardboard box. With the box to her chest she turned away.

“Francine, are you still there?” Jessica’s voice sang through the office as she picked up the telephone.

Sophie carried the box to her desk. Sitting behind the computer, she looked at the cardboard box with distain. She noticed an envelope in the package, and wrinkled her nose like the envelope smelt like garbage instead of the new plastic smell from the kickboard.

Jessica’s words had gotten to her. She was single. Spinster Sophie. She’d even lost Derek, he’d strayed, he’d cheated. Was it because of her work? She’d simply thought Derek was being a controlling arse.

Sophie pushed the thoughts aside, she didn’t need an envelope to know who the package was from. She removed the handwritten note:

“Dear Miss Sophie Mermaid Smart,

Just a quick note to wish you well. Good luck for the pending introduction into the water. You may want to have a go at trying these things on before the lesson.

Cheers,

Mr. Matthew Dolphin Silver.”

“Mr Matthew Dolphin Silver? How old is he?” she muttered, words barely audible as she read the note. “A dolphin. Really? A dolphin?” Yes, he mentioned his favourite animal was a dolphin. Dolphin made sense. Dolphins were friendly to humans but when they came to the water, he was more like a sea anemone, attractive and pleasing to the eye, but get too close and he’d sting you with a lovely but scary offer of swimming lessons. Would she regret them?

Or was he more like a dangerous barracuda, lean, long, and a hunting machine. Hunting every poor person with a fear of the water. Didn’t he get it, she was traumatized!

Or maybe he was a moray eel pouncing and snaring prey with toothy jaws. Getting remiss girls in the water because he was simply a perve. That was always a possibility. After all, she now knew she couldn’t trust guys. Couldn’t take them on their word.

The gift was not cute, or nice. Although she knew it was. The more she thought about the gift, the sweeter he seemed, like he’d given her an olive branch, knowing she would secretly hate him because he’d kindly offered her a way to learn how to save her own life, and save herself from the water. The olive branch was in the shape of a kick board, swimming cap and goggles. But she was allergic to olives.

She opened her email. Manners were important in life. Grinding her teeth, she didn’t feel at all thankful, nor did she want to be polite.

From:
Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

Sent:
15 October 2007 09:35

To:
Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

Subject:
Thanks

Dear Dangerous Sea Urchin,

They say to beware of your type, and I should be scared, very scared. And I am. The kickboard, bathing cap, and goggles have all been packaged up into a very thoughtful gesture.

Perhaps to help with my forever churning stomach whenever I go near the water? I must confess I feel caught in a rip (mind the pun). But thank you, all the same.

I’m not sure what I can do with all this apparatus unless I’m in the pool?

Your Land Loving Creature

Jessica’s words were going through her mind. Did she really work too hard? Were her priorities all wrong? What was important to her? Family, she supposed. Family was always important to her. However, for some reason or other, she didn’t seem to go and visit very often.

She picked up the phone, thinking about whether to call her Dad. She’d been avoiding his phone calls since the split with Derek. She needed to be honest with them, at least give them a heads up.

With the phone in her hand Sophie recollected that even her mother had tried to call her over the weekend when she was shopping.

“Sophie,” her Mum said, picking up on the first ring. “I just knew you would call when you had a chance.”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, nothing, it’s just nice to hear from you every now and then.”

“Thanks Mum. Um..., there’s something I need to talk to you about.” This was it, time to face the truth, tell them she and Derek were over.

Her mother shrieked on the other side of the phone. “It’s happened hasn’t it? It’s finally happened. You’re engaged. To Derek.”

Sophie gasped. “No.” She had the direct opposite news to tell.

“Oh honey, what else could it be? You’re not…um, pregnant dear?”

Sophie sighed. “No Mum.” She already felt irritated. “There is no engagement, and no pregnancy. It will never happen between me and Derek.”

“Why’s that? You two are perfect for each other and you turning thirty in a year, worse things could happen then getting pregnant.”

“Because.” Should she tell her, explain about what he had asked of her? Her heart constricted. “It all started with Jamie Oliver.”

“Jamie Oliver? Whatever are you talking about?”

“I have this collection of Jamie Oliver cookbooks you see.”

“But you don’t cook Sophie.”

“I just made a Jamie Oliver minestrone thank you very much.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Try to make him happy. Maybe you could try a little harder in your relationship. Try reading the recipes and not just looking at the pictures.”

“Forget it.”

“Couples fight. Did you want me to talk to him sweetie? Put in a word for you. I know all your best attributes. Cooking just isn’t your skill, Jamie Oliver, indeed.”

“Mum,” Sophie exclaimed. Her mother probably preferred talking to Derek rather than her.

“I’ve got his number I’ll call him now.”

“No.” Could she be any clearer than that? “No. Definitely not. Do not call him. I’ve got enough issues with Derek.”

“Oh Sophie, well whatever is going on with the two of you, patch it up, he’s a handsome one, that one. A keeper.” Obviously not enough of a keeper to wait a millisecond before he got together with gorgeous fucking Georgina.

“Oh Mum, got to go, got something important from a client.” It was true, a message flicked to her screen. The sea urchin responded to her email. Very quickly, too. That was interesting. She was finally getting timely responses from Matthew Silver. Ha-ha! Progress at least from someone in the male population.

From:
Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

Sent:
15 October 2007 10:39

To:
Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

Subject:
Re Thanks

Dear Miss Sophie Mermaid Smart,

There are very few mermaids who are land-loving creatures, and you must clearly be the rare kind with no problems finding your feet. Together, we’ll help you find your tail, so you can splash around in the water without a care in the world.

Before any attempt in finding your mermaid tail, like visiting the pool for a tail-finding swimming lesson with a dolphin, I would recommend you sit in your bathtub (in your brand new swimsuit if it helps).

Fill the tub halfway up with water, wearing both bathing cap and goggles.

Once you feel comfortable in this position, place your head face down in the water and blow a series of bubbles out of your mouth (still while wearing all this apparatus).

Count ten seconds and lift your head back up out of the water. Repeat this exercise a few times.

If you find the idea of a bathtub quite off-putting, consider wearing the apparatus in the shower.

Yours truly,

Mr. Mathew Dolphin Silver

P.S. Did you know that the clown fish is a close friend of the sea anemone, and is able to swim close without getting stung?