She mimicked the woman next to her—one leg behind one in front, arms cutting through the water like scissors.
“Left arm, right leg,” the instructor called. The other women turned to look, still continuing their routines.
Tania Marie tried. She stopped, put her right arm forward, her left leg back, and started walking to “Kansas City.” Except she couldn’t make it happen. Betty, the instructor, approached, pushing herself through the water, blond bangs pasted to her forehead. It was PE class all over again. High school and fat and uncoordinated, to boot. This time she couldn’t run to the locker room and cry. Couldn’t screw the football coach to get even.
Whatever made her think she could do this? She should have skipped this bullshit, headed straight to the sauna.
“Here.” Betty took her hand, pulled it through the water. “You’re doing fine,” she whispered, but Tania Marie knew better. Shit, her first day in fat class, and she was going to flunk out.
“Now, Skateboard.” Still standing in front of her, Betty showed her how to lift her knee to her chest, then kick it out in back.Tania Marie tried to get into it, but then, it was time for Cross-Country again.
The class lasted little more than an hour. By the time the other women climbed out of the pool, she felt better. Betty bobbed through the water toward her, and Tania Marie pulled the scarf tighter around her head. Without makeup and hair, she was just another fat girl.
“It’ll get easier with that Cross-Country, Mary. It’s just like skiing.”
Tania Marie didn’t dare mention she’d been lousy at that, too. That was one of the stories about Marshall and her that had become a public joke. The ski weekend when the only skiing that took place was in the bedroom.
“I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Just keep coming back. You can stay as long as you want. This is our last class of the day.”
It always was. And she was always one of the last to leave the gym, when there were few people to recognize her. How long would she have to continue this deception?
“You think I can really lose weight doing this?”
“Sure.” Betty patted her own ample hips. “Of course you can’t lose weight doing any one thing if you eat more than you burn off. You doing anything else, going to Weight Watchers, LA Weight Loss or anything?”
“Killer Body.” She almost whispered it.
Betty shrugged. “The Julie Larimore diet. What do you think happened to her?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Betty lifted her arms from the water. “I know she’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, too. It doesn’t really matter what you do as long as you stick to it. See you tomorrow night.”
“Yes,” Tania Marie said, and for that moment, she believed she could stick to a program, maybe this one and the nice, notperfect woman who hadn’t made her feel like a clumsy ass for not being able to coordinate left and right.
She slid into the water, up to her neck, sinking into its warmth. She needed a plan, like Virginia had when she’d opened her first restaurant. As the water momentarily liberated her from her girth, she let herself bob about like a cork and thought about what she should do next. Maybe join a program like Weight Watchers. The one meeting she’d sneaked into hadn’t been bad, but it could take forever. Besides, she’d have to be accountable.
Maybe she ought to look into one of those alternative measures she’d heard about. Epsom salts. Temporary, for sure, but it would clean her out, maybe knock off five pounds; that’s what Marshall said his wife did. If his wife, why not his mistress—okay, fucking ex-mistress. Why not?
All she needed was to demonstrate a considerable drop in weight in the next week or two, something to rivet the attention of the press. Then she could do something sensible, find a weight-loss program that worked.Aftershe was the Killer Body spokesmodel.
She’d had it with the pool. Tania Marie pulled herself out of the water, grabbing on to the rail parallel to the slippery steps. Her weight hit her like a wet, heavy towel, and she almost retreated back to that warm, buoyant place. But, no.
In the sweaty sanctuary of the sauna, she climbed up on a bench too narrow for any normal human and let herself absorb the steam-filled air. Damn, it hurt good. As she lay there, wiping the sweat from her face, she could almost feel the fat evaporating.
It was too late, and she was too tired to think. Maybe she should just go back to her place and pig out. Damn, she’d worked off a German chocolate cake’s worth of calories in the pool. And if embarrassment and feeling like a dork made you sweat, she’d probably earned at least a wedge of cheesecake.
Sweat drenched her body. Heat filled her nostrils. At least she’d look skinnier until she did something stupid like drink a glass of water.
Should she find a grocery store on the way home and buy one of those shitty mixes in the box, or one of the frozen second-rate cakes she wouldn’t have time to thaw? Or should she just suck it up, and walk into Trader Joe’s, bigger than hell? Eat the whole damned cheesecake in the car if she felt like it? How late did Trader Joe’s stay open?
None of the options sounded all that good. She was still considering them when the lights went out.
Black. Pitch black. Only her own sounds and smells. Her own self in a small room sucked dry of light.
Her breathing accelerated. What the hell was going on? How much time had passed since Betty and the class filed out?
