All I could manage was to blush. I couldn’t believe I had just read something so private when it wasn’t meant for me. I felt like what I imagine a thief or a fraud feels like after getting caught.
I put the letter neatly back in its envelope and got off the couch to go to my room. After putting it down next to my laptop, I took out my phone and looked at the last message Seb had sent me. It was the night before, repeating his predictable “Sweet dreams, love you” after ignoring me the entire day.
I chucked the phone on the bed and pulled a duffel bag out from my cupboard. Threw in a costume, towel and goggles, and bounced down the stairs again.
“Mom,” I yelled, not sure where she was. I figured she had gone back to work again and I didn't bother leaving a note.
I went to the garage through the kitchen and climbed in my car, a small Toyota. Before putting the key in the ignition, I stared at myself in the rear-view mirror. I wasn't looking at anything in particular, but I didn't like what I saw. I always thought my eyes were one of my best features, but today they had retired from their pretty emerald green to a tired-looking and dull olive. My hair was flat and lifeless, lacking its usual wave. I hadn't put makeup on in days because I hadn't needed to. It wasn't as if I had anyone to impress, but at the same time, it was upsetting realising that. I should have been looking good for my boyfriend, and could have been dressing up for a world of fun on Rage. Instead, I could do neither, and it showed on my face. I actually grimaced after a while, and had to move the mirror into its original position.
After that, I fixed my eyes forward, started the car, and drove through impossibly slow afternoon traffic to reach the gym. When I hit the Virgin Active parking lot, I practically jumped out of my car to get inside. I rushed through the entrance, neglecting to return the smile of a trainer on my way to the pool. I so badly needed to escape my thoughts for a while; they were beginning to get out of hand.
Once I'd changed into my costume and locked my things away, I climbed onto one of the starting blocks and dived. Immediately a new sense of calm washed over my body. Ironically, I could breathe again, clearing my head of all the worries I had five seconds ago. I swam until there was nothing but water, muscles pushing, and the tile crosses marking the ends of my lane. I didn't have to think of anything except when to breathe and how long I could keep this up.
So I pushed, setting into a regular rhythm and enjoying the feel of water gliding easily over my body. For a while, my mind was completely void, but after ten laps or so, thoughts started to creep in. Well, at first it was just mimages, with subsequent thoughts attached. I absently drove myself towards the plain white walls of the pool's edge, but in my mind's eye I saw the letter the stranger from London had sent me. I noticed the way he wrote, definitely the scrawl of a young guy, but it was far neater than my own. I also saw what was just beneath the t's and the i's that he didn't dot, which was not the meaning, but the intention. I never thought you could tell so much about a person by the way they strung together a sentence. I had the feeling that every word had been selected carefully, as if the one mistake might bring the world crashing down. I remembered him mentioning something about being a writer, which could have meant that everything he wrote was a clever manipulation, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to believe it. He was so sincere, so vulnerable. As irrational as it was, I wanted to trust him - this perfect stranger I couldn't even remember the surname of.
I had so many questions. What he was like, what his story was, why he thought I was someone else? Come to think of it, how he found my address in the first place? I wondered what the right thing to do was, because while I could be as lazy as any couch potato out there, when it came to things that mattered, I couldn't help but take action. I couldn't count how many laps I did while I thought about this, but it must have been a few because I started to feel my muscles aching. I thought since the letter wasn't meant for me, that replying might be inappropriate, but that rivaled my instinct to relieve the poor guy of his expectation and anxiety. I realised that I needed the advice of a friend, and I didn't want to bother Luke or Charlie again that day. Everyone else except Beth was either also on Rage or overseas for the summer.
After swimming a last, slow lap for luck, I dragged myself out of the pool and sat on the ledge while I regained my stamina. I figured Beth was my only option at this point, if I wanted help with my situation. Fortunately I knew she would be at home, but I also knew exactly what she would say. So basically, I was alone, but I decided I would go there anyway to avoid my other problems and amuse myself with how accurately I could predict her reactions.
I felt like I should be in a hurry, so instead of showering, I towel-dried my hair and climbed swiftly back into my blouse and shorts. I chucked the wet towel, swimming costume and goggles back into my duffel bag and headed hastily back to the parking lot.
Beth and I went to the same high school, and evidently grew up in the same neighbourhood. I had to crawl back through gridlock traffic to reach Parkwood. Most of my close friends lived there, as it was pretty much equal in distance to our respective schools. I wouldn't have known them if we hadn't all grown up in the area, and I was grateful for it. If I had only ever had friends from Roedean, I would not be the same person.
My gym was only a couple of streets over from where Beth lived, but it still took ten minutes to make my way through the busy streets. When I arrived at the beautiful gothic iron gate, I leaned out the window and rang the buzzer three times. Beth's parents - like most of the parents at Roedean - were loaded. Her dad was a respected cardio-thorasic surgeon who travelled a lot, and her mom a ferocious defense attorney with many high-profile cases. They were both brought up with a hardcore Asian work-ethic and the conservation to match. Neither Beth nor her parents were born in China, but their values got passed down through parenting. I would say that some of the tradition got lost on Beth, but she was decidedly the hardest worker and biggest kill-joy out of my friends.
As I proceeded to ring the buzzer another three times, I was interrupted by Beth's anxious, reserved voice.
"Hello?"
I climbed half out the window and waved at the camera positioned on an ivory column ajoined to the gate.
"Hello?" Beth said again, sounding irritated.
"Look at your camera Bethany," I said into the intercom.
There was a shuffling sound and then a moment of silence before she spoke again. "Dani, what are you doing here?"
"Let me in," I said impatiently. My back started to hurt from leaning the way I was.
"My parents don't know you're here."
"Your parents will probably be working until nine. Come on Beth."
"Why are you here though?" she asked again.
I groaned and lowered myself back into the car. "Am I not allowed to visit my friend?"
I heard her sigh and a few seconds later the tall dark gates started to swing open slowly. I drove down the long, neatly bricked driveway, passing a gardener tending to some rose bushes. Her house wasn't big in a garish way - it was enormous, don't get me wrong - but rather in an unaffected, tasteful kind of way. It didn't have Greek statuettes bordering its front porch, or gilded railings on the frontward-facing terrace upstairs. Like the wall surrounding the property, the house was a modest, ivory colour. All the exterior finishes of the doors and pillars were in a matte steel, and huge square windows lined both stories of the flat-roofed home.
My mom and I didn't do badly for ourselves, but we didn't live anywhere nearly as nice as this. I wasn't sure how I would feel having all that space for just the two of us, but what did interest me was how people like Beth, who had everything, still worked harder than everyone else.
I stood and waited at the large glass door as Beth walked soberly down the stairs. She opened the door and frowned disapprovingly at me.
"If you get me into trouble, I swear-"
"Beth, don't worry," I said as I pushed past her and into the sunny entrance. "I'll be gone before they get home. I just want to chill, okay?"
She smiled uneasily. "Yeah, okay."
One thing I had discovered about Beth's parents was that they bought really good food. Most people tend to stick to local or even high-end supermarkets, but her parents went to those small stores that only stock imported goods from Switzerland and Israel and wherever else, and while I couldn't decipher what any of it was beyond the image on the box, it was all ridiculously delicious. So, naturally, the first thing I did was head right down a marble-floored passageway and enter the large open-plan kitchen. I was starving after my swim and I went straight for the cupboard where they kept all the cookies and chocolate. I pulled out a box of what might have been Italian shortbread, and ripped it open in a way I knew meant it wouldn't be reseasable. That annoyed Beth. I pulled the bag apart and offered her a piece. She eyed it closely, but shook her head and took an apple out of a fruit bowl on the center island instead. Beth was the kind of girl who watched her weight. She was genetically tiny, but that didn't seem to mean anything to her. She worried about her weight, her grades, her extra-curriculars, and probably every other intermediate step affecting her future. In short, she was a bit neurotic, and while it was often really amusing, it did get on my nerves.
"Were you just at the gym?" she asked, noting my wet hair.
"Yeah, I haven't swam in a while."
"You should have called me to meet you," she said. "I haven't done any serious exercise since hockey season and I need to start going to gym more."
"What you need is to stop stressing about everything and just relax for a few weeks."
"But you're going to gym," she said, justifying herself.
"I went to swim so I could clear my head, not because I'm obsessed with getting fat."
"Dani," she said softly, looking hurt.
"Sorry, that was harsh," I said, meaning it. "I just think you need to take a rest before varsity. Pre-med is big deal and you've already been stressed-out for the last five years. Let go a bit, you might like it."
She bit into her apple and only replied once she had swallowed her mouthful. She leaned against the countertop.
"You're probably right," she said. "I know how silly this sounds, but I just don't think I know how."
I smiled at her. "It's really simple. First, you eat a biscuit." I held out the packet to her again. She hesitantly removed one and took a tiny bite off one corner. "Now, you do whatver the hell you want, instead of what you think you should be doing. Got it?"
"That's really horrible advice," she said, taking a larger bite of the shortbread and laughing.
"I know," I said, chuckling too. "But hey, it's worked for hippies and politicians everywhere, so why not?"
She really started laughing at that one, and the corners of her dark eyes crinkled in a pleasant way. She was pretty, when she wasn't frowning or worrying or analysing everything. Her straight black hair was long and always fell perfectly, which was something that I envied. She also had an amazing stomach from all the sports she did. I couldn't really complain about my own - Seb liked it and it was flat, but I was too lazy to get it toned like Beth's. Besides, she was always too busy for boys. But, if it were something that she wanted, I didn't think she would have a problem finding one.
After I'd finished off the Italian - or maybe French? - biscuits, I was content and Beth's neuroticism bothered me less.
"So, the weirdest thing happened today," I said.
She made a 'hmmm' noise as she picked up the discarded biscuit box and threw it in the bin.
"I got a letter in the mail from some guy in London." Beth's interest peaked and she leaned against the counter again to listen. "I was confused, but was addressed to me and everything, so I opened it. Inside is this crazy emotional letter to this guy's missing girlfriend who just happend to have the same name as me."
"Tumbler is a very uncommon surname," she said, matter-of-fact. "If he thought she was in South Africa then it's not surprising that he presumed you were her."
"Okay," I said, not really sure where she was going with this information. I decided to carry on. "So, it's all about how they have this intense fight about her mom her something, and then she leaves and he hasn't seen her since. He talks about how much he misses her and how sorry he is, and all this stuff about her smile and how she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It was so romantic Beth, I wanted to just break up with Seb and marry this guy." Not entirely true, but who doesn't embelish stories?
"You should just break up with Seb then," she said flatly. "Save us all a lot of misery."
"Excuse me?" I said very loudly and defensively. Seb was one topic that I couldn't handle any more negativity on.
Beth widened her eyes. "I just mean-" She stammered. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."
"No, it's okay," I said, softer now. "I was just joking. Seb is everything to me Beth, you know that."
"Yeah," she said, almost under her breath. "I know."
"Anyway," I said, trying to lift the mood. "I don't really want to think about him. What do you think I should do about this letter?"
She took a second. "It would probably be a little cruel if you dont write back."
"That's what I was thinking," I said, agreeing with her. "But he spoke about remembering their first time and how perfect she looked in her pink panties, and how that was when he fell in love with her or something. Kind of awkward after reading all of that, but it's still the right thing to reply."
"Okay, no."
"No, what?"
"How could you read that Dani?" she asked incredulously.
"Hey, it's not like I knew what was going to be inside it. It was addressed to me!"
"I know, but still," she argued weakly. "Don't reply. It'll be so humiliating for him, and for you. He'll realise that he had the wrong person."
"Or," I replied with emphasis, "he'll just think that she's ignoring him. He seemed pretty sure that she was here."
"Don't do it Dan," she said emphatically. "It won't lead to anything good."
I sighed dramatically and rested my head on the table. "Kay, I won't do it."
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