Learning to Swim(14)

“When do you leave for the beach?” the other stuffy woman with the huge tinted Dior sunglasses asked.

“Tonight, as soon as Rick gets off work. He's been assigned a case that's had him working night and day.”

Suddenly Mora's mother glanced at me. “Perdone, camarera,” she said, shaking her iced tea glass at me. “Más té helado, por favor.”

I was almost certain that I was delusional. “Excuse me?”

“Oh—you speak English,” she said, giggling. “Well, that's refreshing, isn't it?” Then she grinned and looked around the table, waiting for the applause. Although she didn't get any applause, she did get some laughter.

“Really, Bitsy. You are terrible,” said I-wear-my-ridiculous-sunglasses-inside woman.

“It's true, though,” said sun-hat lady. “You need to speak Spanish to communicate to any of the help these days. It took twenty minutes to explain to Isabella that I wanted her to dust the blinds in my bedroom!”

At least the acknowledgment of my presence and the politically incorrect banter broke my trance. Even though it was crystal clear I wasn't her waitress, I took her glass and used the opportunity to escape into the kitchen, which is where I came face to chest with Keith.

As much as I'd wanted to play it cool and act as if I hadn't loved him for forty-six days, the sight of him was enough to make me stop breathing and cause the muscle near my right eye to twitch.

“Hi,” he said. “Warthog told me I'd find you here.”

I swallowed hard and finished refilling Mrs. Cooper's iced tea. “Yeah, that guy is always up my butt.”


Immediately my stomach rumbled. I had just provided Keith with the image of our sweaty disgusting boss being up… my… butt! What was I thinking?

But instead of being grossed out, he just chuckled. “Well, I was hoping we could move our lesson to a little bit later tonight,” he began, following me as I headed back out into the dining room.

“Keith!” Mora's mother exclaimed as she saw him. “We were just talking about you.”

Keith flashed her a quick smile but kept his attention focused on me.

“Can we make it nine-thirty instead?” he asked me.

“Um, not really,” I said, stopping. I really didn't want to have this conversation in front of Mrs. Cooper. She would definitely sense something amiss and go running back to Mora, and that would be so not good.

“All right,” he said with a shrug. “We'll keep it at nine.”

“No,” I said, looking around for Alice. Where had she gone? “I'm sorry… I can't make it tonight,” I said firmly. And then I turned and headed out as fast as I could in search of Alice. After running around Tippecanoe for a good twenty minutes, I found her in the weirdest place—sitting on a bench between the shower and the sauna in an empty ladies’ locker room.

“Oh my God, Alice, I just told Keith I couldn't make my lesson tonight.” I plopped down next to her.

She wiped some sweat off her brow with a towel and heaved another heavy sigh. “Jesus Christ, Steffie. Why'd you do that for?”

“I know, I'm a moron.” I leaned forward to quell the rampant stomach pain that had come back to haunt me. “I ran into him when I went to get Mora's mom more tea.” Then I realized the glass of iced tea was still in my hand. I really was a moron.

“Ah, now I understand,” Alice said sarcastically.

“Well, what can I say? I guess I freaked out about the whole him-marrying-Mora thing. You know, after they both go to college and… like… sing in the glee club together.”

“Really, Steffie, I wouldn't pay attention to anything that came out of Bitsy Cooper's mouth,” Alice said with a snort. “Honestly, I've known her from the day she was born and I can tell you this much: she doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground.”

Speaking of asses, I was about to tell Alice about my lame comment to Keith when she started coughing uncontrollably.

“Alice?” I said. “Are you all right?”

She managed to stop long enough to smile. “Yeah, must be residue from those thousand packs of cigarettes I smoked in the eighties. It'll pass.”

I handed her Mora's mother's iced tea. “Here, try drinking this.”

“You don't think she has herpes, do you?” Alice held the glass up to the fluorescent light, as if she was trying to spot any communicable diseases.

“I doubt it,” I said, grinning. “She probably has her Spanish-speaking maid dry-clean her lips.”

Alice downed the iced tea and closed her eyes again as she took some deep breaths. “You know what would make us feel better?” she asked quietly. “A list of how many plastic surgery procedures Bitsy's had.”

Then she put her arm around me, pulled me in for a hug, and we both sat there for a while, giggling like best friends do.

I arrived home from work around six-thirty. I heated up a package of minipizzas, yanked open a new bag of M&M's, rummaged through the dirty-clothes hamper for my favorite Hawaiian board shorts and white tank top, and settled in for a long interruption-free night of TV. My night had immediately brightened when I was lucky enough to score an AFHV marathon on ABC Family. After six episodes of hilarity, I had finished the pizza and the package of M&M's and was brushing my teeth when the phone rang.