Page 30 of Cava with My Colleague

Stroke after stroke, I beat myself up about it until my arms tire and my stomach growls. I turn, angling toward the shore but not too far. The current whisks me downstream fast enough that I just barely grab ahold of the stair rail of the last exit. There’s a few people in line to rinse river water off in the showers, but it’s the person under one of the streams that catches my eye.

Jade.

Her eyes are clamped shut while she faces the shower head, hands running over her limbs to clean herself off. Her swimsuit is a red two-piece and the color does something absurd against her skin. I make myself look away before she catches me looking, but the image lingers. I’ve spent weeks watching her in boardrooms and conference centers, thinking of her as a problem to be managed. I had not accounted for this version of her—relaxed, sun-warm, completely at ease in her own body.

This is her with the professional armor off, and I find myself completely unprepared for it.

She turns, eyes opening, and her gaze finds me right away. I freeze, but Jade’s hands keep moving, sloughing the river water off her body.

“Hi, Carlos,” she says, in English. Her eyes flash down my body, and I become very aware of all my skin on display. I’m wearing a black swimsuit, so there’s not much left to the imagination. Not that I’m indecent—there are men wearing thongs and women going topless—but Jade has only ever seen me fully dressed. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. The gray chest hairs? The muscles honed from hours of swimming or football?

“Hi,” I say. “Did you have a good swim?”

She smiles, a bittersweet one. “Yes. Made up for the rest of the day.”

I shift on my feet. “About that⁠—”

A voice calls Jade’s name and we both turn. The newcomer is damp from swimming and smiling as they wait at the edge of the shower area. “Are you done?” they ask Jade. This new person is blond, androgynous, slightly taller than Jade, and has a thick accent. They might be Swiss, but my gut leans toward German, maybe. Their hair is cut short and their nose is pierced with a simple stud.

“Done,” Jade calls back. “And ready for a picnic.”

Jade steps away from the showers, making room for the next person to take her spot and joining her friend. I follow, even though I haven’t washed myself off yet—you don’t really have to, the river water is perfectly clean, but most people do—and try again. “About today,” I start.

“Lisa, this is Carlos. He’s my colleague. Carlos, this is Lisa.”

Jade’s friend offers me a wave. “Nice to meet you. Will you join us for a picnic?”

“Oh, no,” Jade says. “I’m sure Carlos has his own dinner plans.”

I don’t. I was going to leave the park and find something quick on my way back to the hotel. “A picnic sounds great.”

Jade turns to me. “I don’t want to talk about work.”

“Neither do I,” I assure her. And I don’t. Not really. My stomach rumbles again and I hold my hand over my abdomen. “A picnic sounds amazing.”

Jade’s eyes follow the gesture and then snap back up to mine.

“Where are you sitting?” I ask.

We walk along the river through the patchwork canvas of towels taking up every inch of grass. Many of them are empty, belongings left behind while their owners go swimming, but some of them are occupied. There are a few parties, but most are couples or solo people enjoying the summer evening.

We pass my towel on the way to their spot so I double back, jogging to my things under the tree and I gather them. A woman on a nearby towel, perhaps twenty years younger than me, gives me an appreciative glance. I ignore it and rejoin Jade and her friend, who’ve made room to fit my towel with theirs.

It’s a tight fit, especially once the food is pulled out, but we make it work. They’ve each brought things to share—Jade has hummus, cheese, dried meats and crackers, while Lisa has dried fruit, wine, and, yes, more cheese and sausages.

“How do you two know each other?” I ask, sitting with my legs stretched out in front of me. Jade mirrors me, her ankles crossed and slightly angled away from me, leaving room for Lisa at my side, who sits cross legged.

“She’s a friend of a friend,” Jade says, offering a warm smile to Lisa. “We just met today.”

“We are actually a friend of a friend of a friend, no?” Lisa adds.

Jade laughs. “If you want to get technical about it, a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend.” She pauses. “I think.”

“There must be a story here,” I say.

They both shrug, and Jade explains. “One of my best friends is dating this guy, who has a friend who is Lisa’s brother.”

Lisa gasps. “‘This guy’?”