Chapter 21 Breathe!

 

I settled in with a cup of tea and attempted to bolster my flagging brain cells with the New York Times Saturday crossword. I was on my second cup and halfway through the puzzle when I heard a man’s shout from the direction of the pool. It sounded like, “Breathe!”

I set the newspaper down and listened. All was quiet.

Another shout. “Breathe!” I recognized Romy’s voice.

Dear God, was someone drowning? I grabbed my cane, slipped into my flip flops, and hurried out the door.

“Breathe!”

Through the iron bars of the fence I saw Romy beside the pool. He leaned forward, hands  on hips, and shouted, “Breathe!”

Water splashed. Someone was in the pool. What kind of lifeguard stood on the deck and commanded a drowning person to breathe?

“Breathe!”

I rounded the corner and rushed through the open gate. “Romy! What happened? Is someone drowning?”

“Breathe!” he commanded again, ignoring me.

I hurried to the pool. Arnie was doing a steady freestyle stroke, face in the water.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Breathe!” Romy called out, then turned to me. “I’m helping Arnie do his laps.”

“Huh?”

“Look at his scalp. See how it’s turning red? That means he’s running out of oxygen. Time to remind him to breathe.”

Arnie’s scalp grew redder by the second.

“Hurry—tell him to breathe!” I said.

Romy shouted, “Breathe!”

Arnie’s head turned in time with the stroke of his right arm. He took a deep gulp of air before his face went back into the water.

“He forgets to breathe?” I asked.

“Only when he’s swimming,” Romy said. “Breathe! He can’t concentrate on two things at once.”

“I know he had to go off his medication, but can’t his doctor prescribe something else?”

“Breathe! Arnie says he feels a whole lot better when he’s off the meds. Breathe!”

I could understand that.

The sound of women’s voice made me turn. Coralee, Tiare, and Violet came through the gate with towels and tote bags.

“Oh, hi Lillian,” Coralee said without a smile. At least she was willing to speak to me.

“Good morning, Coralee.” I added, “Tiare, Vee-o-lette.”

Violet gave me a wave. Tiare only tilted her chin and raised her eyebrows.

“Are you here for a swim?” Coralee asked.

“Not today. I just …” How did I explain what had brought me out of my condo?

“She’s probably here to watch Arnie swim,” said Violet.

The three of them fixed me with hard stares.

I said, “I just came by to talk to Romy for a minute.”

They shrugged, turned away. Coralee and Tiare set their things on side-by-side lounge chairs and headed for the pool. Violet settled on another lounge, extended her bird-like legs, and took a bottle of tanning lotion from her bag.

As Coralee descended the steps into the water, it was impossible not to admire her firm figure. While Tiare wasn’t athletic-looking in the way Coralee was, she was also a striking woman. Tall, with wonderful posture and high, firm breasts.

As soon as they cleared the pool stairs, Arnie finished his last lap and climbed up the metal ladder. He grabbed his towel, gave his face and head a brisk rub, and slung the towel around his neck.

“Ladies, I’ll have to hot tub ready for use by tomorrow,” Romy called to us as he and Arnie headed out the gate.

Ever since finding Pearl in the hot tub, I’d avoided looking at it. Now I took a quick glance toward it. The heart-shaped hole in the ground, rimmed by faded red bricks, sat empty, its blue tiles glittering in the sun. “I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to use it again,” I said to myself.

Violet must have supersonic hearing. “Oh, I know,” she said, peering at me through oversized Prada sunglasses. She wore dangly gold earrings and a shade of coral lipstick that matched her nails. “It’s such a shame Pearl had to die in the hot tub. She really ruined it for the rest of us.”

It seemed a callous thing to say. And yet, I knew what she meant. Sitting in the hot tub had been the one thing I’d most looked forward to when I moved in. I’d indulged in simple fantasies of  warm, tropical evenings enjoying the warm water. Soaking my sore joints, sipping a glass of wine, chatting with the neighbors. “I don’t imagine Pearl’s murderer gave her a choice.”

“Of course you’re right. Come sit by me, Lillian,” Violet offered.

“Oh, I can’t stay—”

“Just for a few minutes? It’s such a lovely morning to be outside.”

It was indeed a lovely morning. It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit friendly, after last night’s fiasco. “Well, okay. Just for a minute.” I settled on the lounge chair next to Violet’s and stretched my legs out. It felt good to take the weight off my knees and feet, though I wished I’d taken the time to grab my sunglasses as I ran out of my condo.

With my hand I shaded my eyes against the sun’s glare and watched the women in the pool. Coralee swam hard, fast laps along one side of the pool, while Tiare floated on her back on the other side, sunglasses protecting her eyes.

“Coralee certainly is athletic,” I observed.

Violet said, “You know, just a few years ago she weighed three hundred pounds.”

“Coralee? You’re kidding me.”

“I am not. Her knees got so bad from all that weight, she needed replacements. The doctor wouldn’t do it unless she lost at least a hundred pounds. So she had belly band surgery, lost more than half her weight, and had both knees replaced.”

“That’s admirable.”

“Oh, she has no discipline at all when it comes to food. She eats anything she wants, then works out like a maniac to make sure she doesn’t gain the weight back. It’s become an obsession.”

“I can think of worse obsessions than staying in shape. I’d love to look like her but I don’t think I could ever be as dedicated as she is.”

Violet let out a huff. “It isn’t like she has much else to do. I mean, there’s no man in her life.”

There was no man in my life, either. Not since Howard died. But I wasn’t going to share such personal information with Violet. “Was Coralee married?

Violet nodded. “She lost her husband ten years ago. Kidney failure.”

“What about kids, grandkids?”

“She’s got four kids and a bunch of grandkids, all living on the mainland. She goes to visit them every Thanksgiving through Christmas.”

“You’d think she’d want to live near them.” I thought of my own daughter and grandson living in England. I supposed, like the rest of us, Coralee had her own reasons for the distance.

Coralee stopped at the shallow end of the pool, pushed up her goggles, and took a drink from her water bottle. It seemed impossible that she’d ever weighed three hundred pounds. There wasn’t a bit of fat on her.

I was about to ask Violet if she had family, when she said, “Whenever we go out to eat, Coralee binges. Then she excuses herself to go to the ladies’ room and purge.”

“You mean she has an eating disorder?”

“Mmm hmm.” Violet smoothed coconut-scented suntan lotion on her arms and hands.

“That can’t be good for her.” I thought about osteoporosis, among other problems it could cause.

“At home she gives herself diarrhea. She’s got laxatives galore in her medicine cabinet, along with ipecac.”

So Violet snooped in her neighbors; medicine cabinets. Another piece of information t file away.

I recalled that was how Karen Carpenter died. Overuse of ipecac, laxatives and God knows what else. Coralee was making a tremendous sacrifice. I no longer envied her slim figure.

Coralee went back to swimming laps. Tiare floated lazily, her large breasts rising out of the water, as brown and firm as coconuts, but a lot less hairy. How amazing that a woman her age had such a youthful silhouette.

“Tiare looks relaxed,” I remarked in an effort to steer the conversation in a positive direction.

“But her boobs aren’t relaxed,” Violet scoffed. “They’re look like two rockets ready to be launched.”

“I’d say she’s lucky. Gravity usually isn’t so kind to women our age.”

“Kind? Her boobs droop to her waist. They’re so empty, she has to roll them up and stuff them into her bra.” Violet demonstrated with a rolling hand motion.

“What?”

“Naked, she looks like those tribal women you see in National Geographic.”

I’d lived over half my life in Africa and found Violet’s ignorant and possibly racial comment appalling. And I felt bad for Tiare. How had Violet managed to see her sans clothing—does she peek in people’s windows? Around here, nothing would surprise me.

Violet rested her head back and closed her eyes, her face to the sun. I took advantage of the moment and took a good look at her body. She was alarmingly thin with knobby joints, jutting collar bones and hips. Apparently she felt that gave her license to make scathing comments about other women’s bodies. I could just imagine what she was saying about mine behind my back.

Coralee couldn’t be blamed for working to maintain her figure. Weighing three hundred pounds, possibly since she was a teenager, had to have been traumatic. Yet the eating disorder—if there even was one—troubled me.

And Tiare? Who could fault a beautiful woman for trying to mask what must be an uncomfortable problem?

This was a good time to make my exit. I’d had enough of Violet’s petty comments. I stood.

She peeked out from under her sunglasses. “Where are you going?”

“I have things to take care of.” I turned to leave.

“Arnie likes his women thin, you know,” she said.

I faced her again. “What?”

“Coralee thinks she has a chance with him if she keeps the weight off. I don’t have to worry about that. Arnie loves seeing me in a bathing suit … or nothing at all. He stands at attention—if you know what I mean—the moment I drop my clothes. He says I have the body of a twenty-year-old.”

More like a ten-year-old. Was Arnie’s vision as bad as his memory?

“You know, Lillian,” she continued, “you’re gonna need to lose a few pounds if you want to catch Arnie’s eye.”

And you could use a personality makeover. “He’s not my type.” I cast a deliberate glance at Coralee and Tiare. “Though I’d say you have some tough competition around here.”

“One day we did it five times,” Violet called out to me and I headed for the gate. “I could barely walk afterwards!”

She didn’t see my eyes roll in disgust. It was my sincere goal to stay on good terms with my neighbors, but it wasn’t going to be easy to remain civil to Violet LaFontaine. She was a vicious, cruel gossip, and I suspected a liar to boot. I had my doubts that a sweet man like Arnie could ever be attracted to her.