Skinny Dipping (8 page)

He’d held her hand, taking almost an eternity choosing the right things for the party. Bags of chips. Booze. Barbeque food. He’d contemplated prices, calories, and quality, after all this was their first shared shopping bill. He wanted them both to be happy.

But Sophie didn’t care. She wanted to race down the aisles, gather all the items on his party list and get on with it. Who cared if a salsa dip was £2.45 or £2.65? The price difference was twenty pence not twenty pounds. She had work to do, and now there was even more because they were throwing a housewarming party the very next day. She didn’t want to get caught up in supermarket arithmetic. If she could have gotten out of the damn supermarket she might have time to finish her work before the party.

As they shopped together, she realized that moving in together, she’d have to be a little bit more flexible. Make a few adjustments to how she used to do things. Work harder on the weekdays or something? Of course Sophie did her best to act like a team, a couple, she even agreed on high fat coleslaw when she really preferred low fat. She pasted a smile on her face, worked together in harmony even though every fiber inside of her was panicking about the time the shopping exercise was taking.

Then after the shopping, Derek had wanted to have sex. Of course Sophie liked having sex with Derek. Of course people who move in together basically can’t keep their hands off each other. It was just that Sophie felt the stress of the housewarming party and thought maybe he could let her work just a little bit without jumping her. She wanted to have sex with him, of course. She also wanted to consummate every room, just not right then.

But she gave into his persistence and the sex hadn’t been Earth shattering or mind blowing. They had however broken the coffee table, and Derek loved it when things happened like that, like it was proof that he was an extraordinary lover.

Broken coffee table or not, that night, the sex was at best, ordinary. They had had fantastic sex before, and the mere ordinariness was most probably because Sophie wasn’t quite in the mood or the right mindset. And afterwards, when Sophie had rushed off to do some work before going to sleep, Derek had gone dangerously silent. Yet come to think about it, he was probably caught up thinking about how he could break the bed.

The morning of the house-warming party, Sophie boxed herself in their room, typing away on the computer, rushing to get her work done before the party. Derek was once again, bitterly disappointed and didn’t understand what was wrong. After all, he’d discussed all the things to do for the party the night before. The chicken skewers to create. The marinade to mix for kebabs. He’d expected her to do that type of domestic stuff (cooking related of course).

The issue was that she was up to her eyeballs in work, needing to complete a project management plan before the weekend was up. She was stressed that if she didn’t finish before the party, she wouldn’t get it done and everyone knew what Bradley’s reaction would be to that. Bradley would most probably make an example of her and kick her career to the curb.

Derek shouldn’t have planned a party without asking her. He’d told her, instructed her of what her role was in the party, with no consideration of whether the timing was okay.

As nice as it was to go shopping together, and putting on a party, she felt unbearably stressed about the whole situation. Derek of course hadn’t understood and thought she needed to learn how to manage her time better.

Now, the couple in front of Sophie placed a piece of Asian garlic into their shopping basket. Was that evidence of a happy shopping experience? Did joint decisions make people happy? That was the type of relationship Derek had wanted. Did Sophie ruin it because she was always too busy working?

Sophie felt a rush of emotion and ran from the fruit and vegetable section, opening a freezer containing the delights of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. She rushed out of the supermarket and went straight for the Highbury flat. Carol was noticeably absent.

Sophie sprawled herself on the couch and opened a tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. But before she sat down she realized she’d bought a tub of Derek’s favourite flavour – Chunky Monkey. Unable to stop herself, she promptly tucked into it anyway. Ice cream suddenly became her friend. Her only friend. If there was a replacement for Derek, then ice cream was pretty good.

Turning the television on, gorging herself on almost half the tub, she decided to get wildly drunk. She poured herself an almost overflowing glass of red wine. Who cared about her thighs? Only Matthew Silver was ever going to see them in her swimsuit. Besides red wine was packed full of antioxidants.

As she sat alone, the awareness that she would be spending the weekend alone hit her. She sipped her glass, almost missing her mouth. Alone at almost thirty.

On a whim she called her best friend, Mickey, speaking incoherently into the phone. “I’ve moved,” she whispered. Her voice shook as she finally dared to admit the fact. She didn’t want to believe it was true, or she’d be giving up. Sophie wasn’t the type of girl to simply give up. There was still the possibility that she could work things out with Derek.

“Everything okay?” Mickey answered, the sound of night club music boomed in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Supposed to be unpacking.” Although, she hadn’t started, the boxes still remained on the floor of her room. “Want to come over and keep me company?”

“I can’t. I’m not in London tonight. Maybe I could pop round tomorrow?”

What had she been thinking? Of course Mickey had her own things on and couldn’t come over in an instant. Mickey was an owner of her own coffee shop
Beans
, she rarely had time to go anywhere.

“Tomorrow’s great,” Sophie said, sanity finding her again, her voice back to normal. Feeling slightly pathetic, mortified at showing her vulnerability, she decided to try to act like she was okay. She was grand. She was getting her life in order.

She put the tub of ice cream down and began rhythmically slicing vegetables. Using her Jamie Oliver cook book she made a lovely Minestrone soup. It was such a shame Derek wasn’t there to see her make it. He would have her exactly where he seemed to want her.

Since Sophie was alone, there was no evidence of her lapse in strength. She even went outside and threw out the tub of ice cream.

While the vegetables boiled on the stove, she decided she wouldn’t even think about Derek any longer. No thoughts of Derek were ever going to help.

She thought of her thighs. She needed to work on her thighs. Not Derek. She was slightly bothered by the fact he hadn’t called her to see if she was okay. Nor had he bothered to enquire if she found somewhere to stay. Was it a sign of the depth of his feelings? Did he ever really care about her? There was a distinct possibility that he never really did.

Chapter 5

Sophie woke early on Saturday morning. It was seven. She was alone. No Derek, and she felt fresh because she wasn’t hung over from a night fuelled from drinking with work colleagues. She checked her mobile phone. There was still no text messages from Derek and she refrained from contacting him. But what was she to do to keep her mind occupied?

Sophie turned on her laptop, initially thinking she would do a little bit of work, but instead she found an exercise program online, targeted at shaping legs. The program prescribed twenty repetitions per day, to start. Twenty squats to fast-track her to fabulous thighs.

Sophie began bobbing up and down, feeling the burn. Before her shower, she did a few more squats. In the kitchen, after having breakfast (microwave minestrone) she did a squat and lunge combo. Turning the television on, during the commercials, she did twenty more squats and lunges. Twenty squats. She didn’t need a fast track. She needed a blooming miracle.

Carol finally emerged from her room, looking slightly anxious at Sophie bobbing up and down.

“What are you doing?”

Oh God,
Sophie was being the strange flatmate. She’d thought Carol and her feline nails were weird, and Carol would be the prime candidate for weirdness. But evidently as Sophie bobbed, she knew it was her.
Her!
She stifled the thought. “Squats. Making sure I don’t think of my ex-boyfriend. That type of stuff.”

“What’s that smell?” Carol wrinkled her nose, referring to the soup.

“Minestrone. Want some?”

“For breakfast?” Carol shook her head and sucked down some vitamins.

“No better way to get into shape, vegetables every meal. Three meals a day.”

Carol shrugged, looking at her intently – possibly for signs of madness – and then Sophie realized from her small frame, Carol possibly didn’t eat much.

“Want to go shopping?” Sophie asked. Shopping was normal, not weird. Carol threw back a glass of water, and her energy seemed to come from somewhere, because she didn’t need convincing to go shopping, and the pair were soon headed for Oxford Street.

***

After all the lunging and squatting Sophie’s body felt sore. When an arm, body or shopping bag slammed into her side, almost winding her, it was difficult to know whether a bruise was brewing from being knocked or from the oblique twists she’d tried earlier that morning. All she knew was her body ached. Sore, arms, legs, butt. All self-inflicted. It would be worth it once she was in the pool.

On Oxford Street, shopping was war. Clenching her fists, sticking her elbows out slightly for protection, the crowd bustled in both directions but she didn’t have time to stop. Sophie pushed into the thick of it, amongst those committed to shopping, caught in a group snaking forward along the pavement. Sophie sidestepped, blindly moving off the Oxford Street pavement, to the curb. A deafening horn blasted and tires screeched from a red, double-decker bus skidding to avoid meandering pedestrians.

Carol was panting hard. Her hair was combed back into a perfect bun, her makeup applied flawlessly with strokes of eyeliner extending out to create an illusion of an extra eyelash. Her foundation covering a sprinkling of freckles and her cheekbones were accentuated with blusher. She looked into Sophie’s face.

“This is hectic, are you alright with the crowds?”

“Thanks, yeah. How about you?” Sophie watched the bus drive off.

“Maybe we should call it quits?”

“No.” Sophie’s voice quavered, determined. Resolve and persistence kept her going. Learning how to swim could be her big opportunity to get more of the Silver Leisure Group, she just needed to believe it, and get in.

“We’ve been to at least ten shops. I don’t think you’re going to find a swimsuit in October. You should have bought one in summer,” Carol stated.

“I need one now,” Sophie said firmly. “I’m not going to go to come away empty-handed.”

Carol put her hand on her hip, eyeing Sophie carefully. “Okay, the department stores must have a few in stock and we just haven’t looked hard enough. Selfridges is the biggest, we should go back there.”

“You’re right, let’s go back. Thanks for coming with me. I know you have your call back audition later on.” Another dance company was interested in Carol.

“I’ve only got another hour before I need to go to the studio, it will give me time to warm up beforehand.”

“Are you ready for it?” Sophie asked, looking out onto the street, analyzing the traffic. A red light shone at the intersection signalling a perfect time to cross.

“Yeah, they haven’t said anything about me dancing as a principal or even a soloist. But an audition is still an audition.” Carol followed Sophie as she stepped out onto the road and onto the traffic island.

“I guess that’s still great news especially in a recession,” Sophie mused, her eyes darting both left and right as her high heels carried her across the road and into the direction of Selfridges department store.

“There’s always the possibility that they might give me a solo. But I just want to get in. If I get to be part of this particular dance company, they focus on excellence and have daily classes and training. I’ll improve as a dancer. No matter what happens, if I get it, it will be a fantastic opportunity.”

The pair entered Selfridges squinting from the bright lights. They weaved around the different perfume counters, rebuffing sales clerks. Carol stopped at a cosmetics counter, selecting a tester sample and sprayed herself. The sweet smell of perfume mingled with the others. Sophie pulled Carol’s coat and urged her through the maze of accessories and up the escalators to the women’s department.

“You’ve only got one hour, and since you know everything there is to know about lycra, we’ve got to focus.”

Carol nodded her head knowingly. “Okay. Do you think you’ll go through with the lessons?”

Sophie swallowed. “I have no choice,” she admitted.

“Didn’t your parents try and get you to learn when you were young?”

“By the time they organized a few private lessons, my trauma was so deep-rooted I refused to get into the pool, did everything I could not to get in.”

“How did it happen, the fear of water I mean?”

“An accident,” Sophie said, the memory was crystal clear and could almost make her gasp in terror as the memory flashed through her mind.

She’d been so young, only five years of age, and she’d fallen into a pool. Her legs wound in the air, like she was riding a bicycle, but she’d sunk. The sensation of hitting the water was unfamiliar because she was suddenly sinking like a person would in quick sand. Down. Down. Down, and her body was swallowed like being pulled into the mouth of some horrible creature with a gigantic throat. Absolutely terrifying as her body plummeted deeper and deeper. The need to breathe suddenly became urgent. Air. All she could think about was air and the fact that she couldn’t breathe.

She struggled, clawing her hands at the blue around her, hoping to rise to the top, to escape, to get air. Try as she might she couldn’t climb; she was sinking. When she opened her mouth to scream, her situation got worse.

Her mouth acted like a funnel, the water flowing fast and filling the back of her throat. Her throat constricted. The water choked her, filling her chest. Her lungs flooded. Her nose hurt like she’d drunk the bubbles of a fizzy drink. Water sloshed in her ears and her eyes felt like they were popping out of their sockets. The pain was hard, intense. There was a moment when she felt herself fade, the world blacked out. She was dreaming..., no she was drowning. Too young to know she was dying. But she was certainly dying. She died for three minutes.