"No, you don't have to pack towels because you will find fresh stock at that place every single day. Jesus, why do you want to increase the load unnecessarily?" I scold April for acting like a child at the worst time possible.
"But I prefer to use my own towel."
"Aishhh, fine. Then keep it in your handbag." I look at Spencer, who won't stop looking at herself in the mirror. "Spence, we could really use your help, you know?"
"I can't believe I have pink hair." She mumbles like a teenager who had her first kiss. "I feel so satisfied that I might start crying."
"Spencer. It's just hair. I can legit grab a pair of scissors and chop it all off when you're fast asleep."
She turns around with a very scary look on her face... something that makes me take a step back. Wow, I never thought she had it in her.
"You do that and I will put jelly in your favourite purse."
I cringe visibly. Damn it, how did she find out about my utter disgust for anything that's gelatinous.
"Oh, maybe I'll throw in two spiders as well."
"You can't even look at an insect, let alone touch one."
"I'll make April do it."
"She's not an insect catcher."
"But she's my friend."
"She's my friend too."
"I don't care. Stay away from my pretty hair."
"Whatever. I don't understand your obsession."
"I wasn't the one singing a made-up song about blue hair in the shower."
"What?"
"We heard you, Liya. It was too loud. We're just kind enough to not tease you about it."
"Well, I -"
"Stop it, you two." April sighs. "Let's get done with packing without wasting any more time. Please."
"Fine." Spencer and I mutter in unison before glaring at each other. She even does this weird thing of animatedly pinning two fingers in front of her eyes and then turning them in my direction, as if to say my eyes are watching you. I shake my head in disappointment.
The next few hours fly by in the hassle of doing productive packing, wherein the majority of time was spent on bickering mindlessly over things that won't even matter. Out of the three of us, April is the only one who is actually good at this stuff. She was competent enough to open youtube and look for packing hacks as Spencer and I threw cherry seeds at each other. For some miraculous reason, April hasn't flushed us out of the room yet, which is great because watching her pack like a pro is a kind of an art in itself. I was under the impression that clothes are kept in neat stacks and then placed on top of each other in the suitcase. But apparently, rolling them guarantees more space. I've travelled a lot but never did I try to roll my clothes, and that must be why I always dragged around two suitcases and two carry-on bags, looking like a freaking nomad. Spencer couldn't care less. Her suitcase is doom itself. It genuinely feels like someone dropped a cloth bomb and caused the biggest explosion of mismatched attires. She was literally playing 'shoot-the-basket' and called it packing.
"I don't care how neat or clumsy my clothes look, okay? There are better and more grave things to worry about." She casually explained when I threw a questioning look at her.
I like that attitude, it's sadly rare. If people would stop putting an unnecessary focus on appearances and instead consider everything that lies beyond it, wouldn't the world be a better place?
Right now, April is busy shopping online for some "cool beach tops" and according to her plan, we must order the same ones so that we "look like a team."
"Come on, I don't even remember the last time we went on a vacation together. This is good and we should have some souvenirs." This was her argument. I simply nodded along because it low-key made sense to me. We are finally doing something we only dreamt about, we will soon experience stuff that we pictured ourselves experiencing, so why not celebrate it?
"I'm gonna sit by the beach with a lovely hat on my head and write." Spencer smiles at the thought and closes her eyes. "I can already picture myself. The sound of the waves hitting isolated rocks or destroying sandcastles, the cool breeze, maybe some seagulls as well. And then there's me, the author of tomorrow."
"Right. And then a handsome guy drops by to ask you about your day and hence begins a beautiful beach romance." I add on and Spencer opens her eyes with a very pissed frown.
"Why is it that you want to disrupt my peace by creating some messy nonsensical romance?"
"What, you don't want romance?"
"I do. With myself. Self-love is the best kind of love."
"True, but for how long?" April asks, looking up from her laptop screen and staring at Spencer through her giant-rimmed glasses.
"For however long I want."
"Spence, that's brave. But you're only human and staying just by yourself for however long you want is not as easy as it sounds. After a point, you will crave for company."
"I have you guys."
"I know. But that's not the kind of company I'm implying."
Spencer sighs as if she has had this conversation since the day she was born. I understand what she means and I also agree with April. I think it solely depends on the person addressing the situation, we can't speak for each other when it comes to something as abstract as love. But to be honest, I low-key feel that Spencer is a romantic at heart. She's just afraid to accept and acknowledge it because the sole weight of it all must be too heavy for her to carry. Sometimes, fear overpowers instinct and it's okay to not do anything about it.
"Love is a luxury I don't want to afford. And if I don't know how to recognise it, it's a lost cause anyway. So instead of fighting the reality, I have embraced it."
We didn't speak much after that.
* * *
It's a little past 4 and we decided to take a break from vacation planning. No matter how much you cherish something, there is a good possibility of you wanting a tiny breather from it because the mind shouldn't feel burdened to work 24x7. April retreated for a nap, which is something that is extremely close to her and she used to complain a lot about her inability to take out time for one because of her afternoon sessions with her designing team. I'm glad she is finally getting a chance to catch up on it. Spencer, on the other hand, can't sleep during the daytime unless and until she is dead tired because of overworking. Since that isn't the case as of now, she locked herself in her room with her laptop and I'm only hoping that she isn't busy editing some shit manuscript from work. I haven't broken down the locked door yet but the urge is real because I know her too well.
Since both of them are busy with something or the other, I decided to go for a swim. Leisure swimming is my healer, my companion, my sanity. Even if I ever, by any chance, give up on being a professional athlete, I will never give up on the sport. I don't think it's even possible for me to survive without being in the water for at least two hours. Maybe my soul is that of a mermaid's and I'm just not aware of it.
I brisk-walk to the gym and think about nothing at all. It rarely happens to me, I'm usually a mechanistic thought box that never powers off. But on these rare occasions, my orientation is channelled more towards the outside than the inside, wherein I see myself as a part of something that lies apart from me. I notice the weather more, I look at the leaves that fall subtly because of the passionate wind, I smile at the cute kids who run around whilst their mothers sit back and chat, I appreciate the stillness that I feel even when I know that the time is running, I notice the silence that grows as I reach the gym. Yep, I consciously go for a swim when people aren't there to disturb me or strike a small conversation just because. I don't care if this makes me sound rude or bitchy because I can't accept anything or anyone when it's just me and my sport.
I push open the lackey door that opens into the swimming pool arena. As expected, it's mostly empty. Just two or three people I have never met. Good, I'm under no obligation to chat. I head for the locker room and change into my swimsuit, stashing my bag inside my locker. I send a quick hello to the security guard who keeps a check over the whole arena and he nods politely with a smile. Without further ado, I swiftly jump inside the pool and start warming up to the familiar touch of chlorinated water. It feels and smells like home and I immediately let my guard down. There is something comforting about the way the human body interacts with water. I can't put my thoughts into words but being in the water is when I feel the safest, the happiest. When I was little, we used to head to the beach house for family outings and it was all very exciting. However, whilst the whole family would go out and hang around the beach, I would feed into my bizarre intrigue for the pool that existed within the walls of the house. That is how I got into swimming in the first place - that freaking pool. I would randomly jump inside without adult supervision, cough my way up to the surface and hoot my ass off. I even drowned once, but instead of developing a fear of water bodies, my love for them grew even more. Sounds psychotic, I know, but it's the truth. My dad even cracked a joke once, that I was born out of a seashell... that I am the lost pearl of the sea and I somehow managed to "swim" my way to my family.
I don't know for how long I swim, I just keep taking the laps without a break. This is normal for me, don't be surprised. I don't easily get tired, physically. Mentally or emotionally is a different story altogether. I've developed a habit of switching to aggressive physical channelling in order to take out the frustration I might be feeling after going through something that wrecked me internally. Till now, this tactic has worked because I don't end up hurting someone else impulsively. I know how to manage my shit and lose it in an appropriate manner, without making room for consequences. Might seem neat but it's actually pretty hard to stay that way.
After a point, my shoulders start aching slightly so I decide to stop before tiring my entire body. I must not forget that a happy trip awaits and body aches as part of shared memory will not be feasible for anyone. I swim towards the end of the pool and hoist myself out of it, pushing back my newly coloured hair with a subtle grin on my face. Spencer was right, I did sing a song about it but that's between me and my bathroom mirror. No outsiders allowed. Anyway, I head back to my locker, grab my change of clothes and freshen up within a matter of fifteen minutes. With my hair still wet, I walk out with a light smile on my face. The buffoons will be up by now, we must finish off packing before going to bed tonight. None of us can wait to please our ears with the sound of the sea.
However, all the happiness that I was feeling goes out of the freaking gym when I find Marcus waiting for me by the seating area. I hold back a cuss word. This is not even funny anymore, it's outright infuriating. They don't give two hoots about me, but when I take a step back, suddenly I'm seeing everyone I don't want to see. Constant messages and emails were one thing but actually showing up at the gym by my apartment? This is a different level of infuriating.
"What now?" I deadpan. I thought I had made it very clear that I need a break.
"I knew I would find you here." He grins and I think I visibly cringe.
"I have someplace to be so please make it quick, Marcus."
"I'm not here as your manager, I'm here as your friend. I heard you and the coach had a row and he seems to be very upset about it. Maybe you should cool things a bit and simmer down your sudden rebellious streak." My eyebrows shoot up. "Don't take it the wrong way, I'm still on your side. But sometimes, making compromises for the work environment is important, especially when it comes to making good with your superiors."
Making good with my superiors. This is a first.
"Listen, Marcus." I begin because I'm sick of people telling me what I should or shouldn't do. It's no one's bloody business. And technically, Coach started the whole thing by not acknowledging my plight. Why should I compromise? Because I'm at his mercy? Or the agency's? No sir, but that's not how Liya Montgomery works. "I'll say this again: I'm on a break. Okay? A break. Let me spell it out for you because clearly, you people don't understand it. B. R. E. A. K. So I'm not obligated to handle any work-related crap. Simple as that."
"You really should work on your ego."
"And you really should work on your listening skills. God, I miss Agatha." I mumble and walk past him because hell, am I gonna take lessons from someone who knows nothing about me.
"This attitude will not let you be where you wanna be, Liya."
I stop walking, cough out a fake laugh and turn around to stare holes at him. What the bloody hell? Me taking some time off has suddenly become a personal attack against literally all of these fools, and I don't understand why. And somehow, I am the bad guy here.
"Do you know where I really wanna be, Marcus? Home. With the only two people on this planet who won't make me feel horrible about putting myself first for once in my entire life. And I don't think the attitude that you're highly critical of has anything to do with my ability to actually be there. You're the only obstacle in my way and I've done enough sports to know how to actually overcome it. So, ciao."
Ten points for literally running out of the gym once the door of the pool arena closed.
* * *
"Spencer, sitting on the damn suitcase will not shut it close! Why are you such a cartoon?!" April whines as I try to not laugh at the whole situation. What crackhead-ism is this? I'm sure April is trying really hard to not laugh herself because Spencer looks extremely hilarious. There are no words to do justice to the whole thing. And for some weird reason, she's wearing her Santa cap. A Santa cap that doesn't fit her anymore, over a giant green onesie and pink hair that resembles strawberry ice cream, she looks like a freakin 'Christmas decoration. How am I supposed to not laugh at this?
"But that's how they do it in films!" She complains and the cap threatens to fall down with a thump.
"They are called films for a reason! Full of unrealistic shit."
"I just need some more weight. Liya, sit next to me."
"Oh no, ma'am. I don't want to put a hole in your suitcase that is the shape of my backside, thank you very much."
"You both are useless." She stands up and puts one foot on the suitcase. My eyes almost pop out of their sockets and I jump to pull her back. April beats me to it.
"My lord, has one day of no work screwed up your logical mind?! Sit down!" April pushes Spencer away from her suitcase and begins to sift through the contents to arrange them the way humans do. Thanks to these two, I completely forgot about the last ten minutes that went down in the gym.
My stuff is packed well, I even got a thumbs up from April. I threw in all the dresses I had bought but couldn't wear earlier because of so-and-so reasons. But most of the clothes that I packed speak the language of cosy comfort, which is what I plan this vacation to be like. I'm not in a dying need for a whirlwind beach romance. In any case whatsoever, I wouldn't mind one either. So, it's really a 50-50 situation and I'm good with anything. I called uncle Gerard a few days ago and he was more than happy to lend the beach house to us. He even commented that we're picking the best time to visit because it neither would be too cold nor too hot out there and apparently, the thin crowd wouldn't be a headache either. Not like the place has much crowd anyway. He said that there is a good possibility that the neighbouring beach houses won't be empty, so a sense of security was like a wave of relief for both of us. I don't really remember meeting neighbours, but that's probably because I rarely stepped out of the swimming pool. I don't think things have changed at all, I just hope April the social butterfly would not make me wear a sundress and take a walk by the beach to watch the sunset. I can very well do that by running up to the freakin terrace.
"This looks better, doesn't it?" April grins at Spencer and I nod at her in approval. It finally looks like the suitcase isn't about to vomit clothes.
Spencer looks up from her laptop, glances at the suitcase and shrugs.
"Gomawo chingu." She mumbles in a baby voice and goes back to whatever she was typing.
The way she says it is so adorable that I get a strong urge to pull her cheeks. I think April feels the same way because she looks at Spencer fondly and shakes her head. Yes, this friend of ours is a cartoonish child and she actually loves to be that way. So, who are we to not accept her the way she wants to be?
"All done." April stands up victoriously.
"Yep. All done." I feel so proud right now. I never thought we'd actually be able to pull this whole thing off.
April comes up to me for a hug and I happily oblige. I can feel her happiness seep into my own good mood and suddenly, all the crap that we went through to get here feels as light as a feather. The journey will not be forgotten, but right now, the destination seems more appealing. I slightly turn my head and kick Spencer's ankle with my extended toe.
"Group hug, you doof. Get in here or I will put Nutella in your hair."
"You will not." Spencer narrows her eyes, shuts her laptop close and hops towards us with her arms outstretched. She has freakishly long arms for such a tiny frame.
The three of us stand in the middle of our living room, sharing a hug as if we won a world cup for our country and no amount of exaggeration will ever do justice to how good I actually feel right now.
* * *