Page 33 of The Woman in 3B
I held up the pale yellow bikini that probably looked dynamic in contrast to her bronzed skin tone. On me, I was sure, it would only look washed out.
“Fuck,” I swore into the empty room.
A few moments later, after I’d stripped out of my clothes and wiggled into the bikini, I cracked open Anissa’s bedroom door and stuck out only my head.
“Anissa?” I called out.
I realized it was the first time I’d said her name out loud. I couldn’t deny how good the syllables felt rolling around on my tongue.
I paused and waited for a reply that never came.
I opened the bedroom door the rest of the way and took a tentative step into the hallway. The plush carpet felt cozy against my bare feet, but that was about my only comfortable body part. I was even more self-aware of my partial nakedness, dressed in Anissa’s flimsy excuse for a bikini, in the silent, air conditioned home.
None of the clothes I’d worn over were a suitable coverup, so I searched for a linen closet amongst the closed upstairs doors. It felt presumptuous to be peeking behind each closed door, but my desire to find a towel to wrap around my body was greater than my respect for Anissa’s privacy.
I breathed a thankful sigh when I finally found the linen closet. A stack of neatly folded bath towels sat amongst surplus toilet paper and sundry toiletries. I grabbed the top towel and quickly wrapped it around my midsection like a sarong.
I still hadn’t heard any noises from downstairs, so I tentatively descended the carpeted stairs.
I tried calling for my elusive hostess again when I reached the ground level: “Anissa?”
Still nothing.
I cautiously tread my way to the back of the house. I tiptoed, barefoot and careful, along hardwood floors. My heart felt permanently lodged in my throat and my blood pressure was elevated. It was akin to walking through a haunted house, unsure of my steps and anticipating that someone might pop out from an adjacent room or from behind a piece of furniture.
The muted sounds of a pool party filtered into the kitchen through the back sliding door. I peered through a window above the kitchen sink to observe the activities beyond the pane of glass. I had been overwhelmed the initial time Anissa had pulled me outside to introduce me to her family, but now I had a moment to breathe and take stock of the poolside activities.
Five children—two boys and three girls—ranging in various ages, although all under twelve, splashed around in the in-ground pool. The chlorine pool was large, taking over the entire backyard with the exception of a poured concrete patio where the rest of Anissa’s extended family resided.
I spied Anissa herself on a lounger beside the pool. She’d removed her coverup and lay in a black one-piece bathing suit. The bottom portion was cut high up her bronze thighs, and the front material plunged in a low v-cut down the center of her chest. The suit looked impractical for swimming, but I didn’t expect her to dive into the water anytime soon.
Two similarly-aged women flanked Anissa’s lounger in lounge chairs of their own. Each wore a bathing suit—one a patterned bikini and the other a more conservative one-piece. They might have all been sisters or cousins or of no relation whatsoever.
A few feet from the lounge chairs, a single man sweat over a propane grill. Smoke curled in the shimmery air above the hot, open flames. The man looked to be in his early forties. He wore navy blue shorts and a short-sleeved, tropical-themed shirt open in the front.
Away from the pool, the grill, and the sunbathing goddesses, an older couple sat at a circular table beneath the protection of a canvas patio umbrella. I assumed the man and woman to be Anissa’s parents, but so far my assumptions about this woman hadn’t served me well.
I still had absolutely no confidence, but I knew I couldn’t hide out in Anissa’s kitchen forever. I sucked in a calming breath and reached for the handle of the sliding glass door.
I felt the attention of a dozen eyeballs as I opened the sliding door and stepped onto the sun-warmed concrete. Anissa rose from her lounge chair in one, fluid motion. I hovered close to the sliding door, as if ready to scamper back inside.
“Glad you decided to join us,” she smiled serenely. “I was worried you’d changed your mind.”
“You gave me a bikini but you’re in a one piece?” I hissed in protest. I self-consciously covered my bare midsection with my arm.
“They’remybathing suits. Shouldn’t I get to decide which one I want to wear?” she reasoned. She shifted her oversized sunglasses farther down her nose to look at me. “Besides, you fill out the top of that bikini much better than I ever could.”
Her openly appreciative stare was more bewildering than anything. On a typical day, I considered myself to be pretty ordinary. Standing beside Anissa, I felt positively plain. There was nothing special about me whereas she seemed to ooze sensuality. There were a lot of words I would use to describe myself—none of which overlapped with this woman. Wholesome. Pleasant. Agreeable. Fresh-faced. Friendly.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “You should grab yourself a plate. My brother, Sam, always grills way too much.”
The patio table was covered in various trays and containers of food. Hot dogs on grilled buns. Cheeseburgers. Thick slices of seedless watermelon. Cole slaw. Some kind of pasta salad.
“Impressive,” I remarked. “This is quite the all-American spread.”
“Were you expecting something else? Maybe hummus and falafel?” Anissa demanded. Her caramel-colored eyes took on a sharp look. “My great-grandparents came to Michigan in 1910 to find work in the auto industry. How about yours?”
I hadn’t meant to offend, but I’d spoken without really thinking. My cheeks grew hot. “Yeah, around that same time, too,” I stammered. “My great-grandparents settled in Hamtramck.”
