Page 58 of Holiday Star
“Never mind.” She laughs. “I already know I can’t publish that one.” She adds, “Remember that editor I told you about?”
I nod. “The jerk?”
Her cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah, him. He asked me out, and I might say yes.”
“Jenny!” I splash her, laughing. “I thought we’re supposed to hate him. You said he is mean and bossy.”
It’s so rare for Jenny to be embarrassed that I hardly recognize the expression on her face. “Heisbossy, but sometimes he can be kind of sweet, too, and he’s awfully good looking.”
I want to tease her some more, but the instructor is at the front of the class, ready to begin.
“You didn’t mention that we needed to be retired to come here,” I joke under my breath, surveying all the elderly women who surround us. They float with pool noodles tucked under their arms, blue-gray hair shining in the bright California sun.
Jenny whispers from the corner of her mouth, “Don’t underestimate them. Last time I did this, I was gasping like a fish out of water and those ladies had hardly broken a sweat.”
“Seriously?”
She nods. “They come here every day.” She lowers her voice even more. “I’m pretty sure they’re part mermaid.”
I laugh, liking the idea of grandma mermaids wrinkled by the pool rather than wrinkled by time.
Jenny’s right. Halfway through the class, my arms and legs are burning from using resistance weights to drag my limbs through the water. My eyes sting, blinded by the splashing of the septuagenarian in front of me.
“Jenny,” I pant. “I’m not going to make it. Put me out of my misery. Please, let me drown.”
She isn’t doing much better, sputtering, her head drifting below the waterline as her legs give out. “I told you,” she wheezes. “These ladies aren’t human.”
“When you mentioned mermaids earlier, I assumed you meant the Ariel kind, not Ursula.”
The elderly lady to my right must be eavesdropping because she corrects me. “Ursula was a sea witch. Not a mermaid.” She shoots me a scathing look and snaps out, “More paddling and less talking, girlies.”
She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I don’t have enough breath left to speak.
After forty-five minutes of this torture, we’re done. Jenny and I crawl out of the pool and collapse onto the concrete deck. The older women politely step over our prone bodies on their way to the showers.
“I can’t move,” I groan.
Jenny opens one eye to look at me. “I thought with all the aerobic exercise you’ve been doing with Caleb, you’d have more stamina by now,” she teases.
In retaliation, I sit up and shake my head like a wet dog, sending a spray of cold water over her.
“Eew. Okay. Okay. Stop.” Laughing, she puts up one hand to block the spray.
I laugh too and collapse back to the ground.
She rolls over on her side toward me. “How is Mr. Famous doing, anyway?”
My cheeks heat from more than just the sun overhead. “He’s good. Great, actually.”
“Great, huh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Great in bed or…”
My smile stretches my face so far that it almost hurts. I can’t seem to stop grinning recently. “Great in every way. You wouldn’t believe how wonderful he is. He’s smart and sweet and kind, and I already told you how well he cooks.” I lower my voice. “Not to mention the sex is phenomenal.”
“Wow.” She shakes her head at me. “It’s like someone switched on a flashlight inside you. I’ve never seen you so bright and loose and giggly. Usually you’re more serious.”
Dependable Gwen.Mom’s words come back to me.Predictable, serious,said Jenny. This is how my family and best friend view me. I had spent years studying to get through medical school, and I suppose you had to be those things, serious and dependable, to accomplish all that I have. Those traits had helped me when dad died, too. When I took over for mom while she was working.
But it’s difficult hearing those descriptions now. I don’t want to be serious and dependable. I want to be fun and spontaneous. I want to be passionate about medicine but about other things too.
