I woke up that morning and decided I was done crying. Seven days of body-wracking sobs, more tissues than I could count, every romantic comedy I owned scattered around Amanda's TV and the empty pints of Ben and Jerry's in the garbage were all what I needed, but that was over now. It was the perfect midsummer day, hot already at eight-thirty, with a bright blue sky. Ollie poked me with her cold wet nose. Time to get up.
I walked into the kitchen, scooped food into her bowl and patted her butt as she crunched on her breakfast. I went into the bathroom, put my glasses on and brushed my teeth. I looked at myself in the mirror and noted my red, puffy eyes and tangled hair.
Coffee, I thought. I need coffee.
Easier said than done. It took me five minutes to figure out how to make a simple cup of coffee with Amanda's complicated espresso machine. Cup in hand, I hooked Ollie to her leash and we walked down the hallways and stairs to the patch of grass designated by the apartment complex for dogs to do their business.
"Good girl, Oll," I said as she squatted. She was a German Shepherd mix Amanda had rescued a few years ago from the local humane society. Ollie was sweet, loyal and protective. Everything Mike used to be.
"Maybe I just need to get a dog, Oll," I muttered as we walked back to Amanda's apartment. She was in Europe for two weeks and I was dog- and housesitting. Her place was gorgeous and I loved staying there. It had recently become a post-breakup retreat for me. Hell it had been a sanctuary pre-breakup these past few months when things had been really bad with Mike and me. Amanda and Ollie had kept me sane and gotten me through the worst of it but every girl needed a good cry (or five) before she was ready to change out of sweats and put contacts in. That day had finally come.
I took Ollie's leash off, hung it up on the hooks by the door that held more dog than human stuff, finished my coffee and put the mug in the sink. Ollie played with her raccoon toy as I poured a bowl of cereal and took it onto the balcony. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of warm morning air.
So far, so good.
I ate my cereal and thought about what I should do today. Definitely post office to mail that credit card bill, get a birthday card for my mom, call my sister and go grocery shopping. But I wanted to do none of it when the pool and my new book were calling to me.
I decided I'd take Ollie to the dog park, shower and spend as much of the rest of the day in a lounge chair with a glass of sangria as I wanted.
***
Two hours later, I touched the pool key fob to the electronic pad and heard the doors unlock. Somehow I was able to juggle my plastic water bottle of peach tea sangria, jar of coconut oil, my book under my arm, keys and cell phone so that I had one hand free to open the door. A wave of crisp air hit me as I stepped into the covered walkway. There was a lounge room to the right, they gym to the left and the pool ahead.
My flip flops slapped against the ground as I walked into the sunshine. There was no one else at the pool and I took a lounge chair under an umbrella. After dragging a small table to the chair's side, my fingers played with the hem of my tank top, hesitating.
"There's nothing attractive about your body," Mike had told me one morning a few weeks ago as I grabbed cream cheese out of the fridge for my bagel.
"What?" I had asked, sure I'd heard him wrong.
He looked me up and down. "You've put on a few pounds. I told you not to get fat. I won't be with a fat chick."
I'd scooped out an extra helping of cream cheese and licked it straight off the knife without breaking eye contact. He'd shaken his head and walked out. He didn't see my tears.
"Fuck it," I muttered now and pulled my tank top off. My skin was paler than last summer and I slathered extra coconut oil on my stomach. It smelled delicious, like the beach on summer's best day. I tugged my shorts off and put more oil on my legs before tying my light brown hair in a ponytail. I felt the ends brush the middle of my shoulders as I lay a beach towel on the chair and added a hair cut to the list of things I was not going to do today.
Stretching out, my muscles clenched and relaxed. Finally, a moment of peace, of absolute contentment. The sun warmed my skin and I wasn't missing Mike anymore really. The entire day was ahead of me, filled with nothing more than this if I wanted.
I'd caved in yesterday on my way to Amanda's and stopped by the bookstore downtown to buy a copy of The Fault in Our Stars. I didn't normally read young-adult fiction, but it was one of those books that everyone was talking about. While the subject matter was heavy and serious, it would be a good read. I loved the book's weight in my hands, the tight binding and musky page scent. There are few pleasures in life as pure as that of a new book.
I was forty-three pages in when I heard the doors to the clubhouse open.
"Great," I muttered, knowing my peace was gone. It would be just my luck that a family or bunch of chattering women would come in, but it was a single guy. He looked a little older than me, maybe mid-twenties, with buzzed hair, tattoos peeking out from his shirtsleeves and dark sunglasses shading his eyes. I felt a stiffening in my bikini bottom. It had been months since Mike and I had had sex—well months since I had. He'd been fucking a girl at work for a few weeks.
This guy surveyed the pool and me, its sole occupant, before walking to the side I was sitting on and setting his towel on a chair a few away from mine.
We made eye contact and I smiled.
