ARLO
But you’re still here?
POPPY
I work here.
ARLO
I should probably work here too, then.
POPPY
What about your calling as world’s worst barista?
ARLO
My talents are needed elsewhere.
Poppy hands Arlo a spray bottle for him to help her clean up. He does so with gusto.
January 26, 2014
Vera S
Note to my twenty-two-year-old self: This is not how getting a job actually works. There’s this thing called an interview.
Chapter Ten
When I got back to Ruby’s apartment, the lights were dim, and a low thrum of jazz music curled out from under her bedroom door.
My desire to face-plant on the chaise longue was outweighed by the fear that the soundtrack to my face-planting might very well turn into sensual sounds coming from my grandmother’s bedroom.
I scooped up Marlon and one of my swimsuits and decided to give her and whoever she was hosting some privacy.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and it was still stiflingly hot outside, but I was willing to take my chances on the outdoor pool. If anything, I’d have it to myself.
The pool was incredibly picturesque with a flamingo fountain and matching peach and mint umbrellas and loungers that were perfectly spaced apart. There were even cabanas with fans and a heavy-duty pool chiller. But I could see how during summer even with the heavy-duty pool chiller, that was a lost cause.
I took Marlon with me into the women’s changing room, where I slipped on the red swimsuit with white trim that I’d bought for my trip with Brody to Tulum. We were there filming and I only got to use the swimsuit once, but I felt good in it. I guess it didn’t hurt that my fondest memory of the trip was of him peeling the suit off me. It had been one of those nights that left me naively hopeful. The moonlight shone inthrough his balcony and I remembered thinking that in that moment we were so close to being what I’d always dreamed we could be.
But then Brody and I went back home and nothing ever felt quite as special or legitimate as it had that one night in Tulum.
When I walked out of the changing room, the whisper of a moon hung in the sky and I had to admit that back home in LA, I didn’t take nearly as much notice of the sky as I did here in the desert. I guess if I had to choose one place to spend the end of my life, I’d want it to be somewhere like this with a sky big enough to make you feel the relief of insignificance.
I set Marlon up on a lounger, nestled in my towel, and then walked onto the diving board, sitting gracelessly on the edge so my toes dragged along the surface.
As I sat there, I tried calling Tess for a much-needed catch-up but got her voicemail.
I weaved my hair into a braid, my curls protesting the whole time, and then decided to swim laps back and forth across the pool. The water was warm, but without the sun, it felt inviting and not nearly as much like I were a tea bag dipping myself in boiling water as I thought it would.
Growing up, I didn’t do many organized sports or activities, but I was on the swim team for the local community center for a few summers. Swimming up and down those lanes was the first time I could remember being fast. I loved the sensation of having my head underwater. Especially my ears. Not only were sounds above the surface muffled, but so was the noise in my brain. It was easier to untangle the jumble of thoughts. Which made it especially unfair that my time underwater was limited to how long I could hold my breath.
But my anxiety found me, even under the water. Today had been overwhelming, and it was very clear that I might be out of my depth. Ruby had been right. I didn’t like group activities or big social plans. What made me think I could be a professional social butterfly to a surprisingly horny and ruthless group of elderly?
My two options were clear: Go back to Brody. Grovel. Ask for my job back. Make zero demands. Or stay here. Become good at a new, terrifying thing. Avoid Eli. And maybe even rewriteThe Wunderkindso that Icould at least show my face in the same room as Brody again one day and know that when I lied and said the deal had fallen through for my movie, there would actually be a script to speak of.
As I tilted my head for a breath, I heard the distinct hiss of a can opening. I stopped, tripping through the water a little as my momentum broke and blinking rapidly against the sting of chlorine.
