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“Why don’t you use the pool while you live with us? It’s a really nice one.”
My mom’s words pop into my head, and I ponder over them. Should I go for a swim? I mean, why shouldn’t I? It’s not like I have anything else to do, so I might as well do something better with my time than vegging around on the couch all day long and feeling sorry for myself.
Excited about this new outcome, I cover my swimsuit with some sweats and a shirt to avoid freezing before I make it to the pool. Then I snatch a bag for my towel, water bottle, phone, and key card, and make my way to the elevator.
The moment it opens, Mrs. Zimmerman steps out, pulling her little old lady wagon after her and carrying a large bag in her other hand.
“Oh, hey, Mrs. Zimmerman. Let me take this for you.”
She holds out the bag to me without a second of hesitation, and I walk with her to her apartment. I’ve been inside before, mostly because of Bacon, or when Mom sent me over to drop something off or pick something up from her. Sometimes, Mrs. Zimmerman seems a bit grumpy, but we all have our bad days.
The door opens, and she points to the right. “Just put it on the counter in the kitchen, please.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you.”
She follows me, the wheels of her wagon squeaking the whole way.
I put the bag down. “Do you want me to help you unpack?”
She shakes her hand. “No, I’ve got it, thanks. I like my things put away a certain way, so I prefer doing it myself.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckle because I can’t argue with that.
She takes off her scarf and hat and unbuttons her long coat, all while giving me a once-over. “Where are you off to? I hope you’re not planning on going outside like this. It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra in the dark days of December out there.”
I blink a few times and laugh. The corners of Mrs. Zimmerman’s mouth lift, her gray curls swaying around her head as she takes off her coat and puts it over the back of a chair.
My mom was right, this lady is a hoot.
I blow out a breath, a smile firmly staying on my face after that. “I was going to check out the pool.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I like swimming.”
“Me too.”
“Well, off you go.” She waves her hand in the direction of her front door. “Enjoy the water.”
“I will, thank you. Have a good day.” I open the door and step into the hallway with a wave.
“Will your mom still be gone for a while?”
Her question stops me. “It looks like it.”
“Do you like cake?”
“Cake?”
“Yes, cake.”
I feel like I missed part of the conversation but I answer anyway, “Sure.”
“Be here tomorrow at three o’clock.”
“Okay?” It comes out more like a question, but either Mrs. Zimmerman doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care.
She gives me a firm nod and shuts the door.
