was born with a white towel coolly slung over her shoulder.
I don’t know who met her eyes but the atmosphere must have blazoned out, “We are talking about you,” because she went on the offensive right away.
“Look at you sissies. All in bathing suits for god’s sake.”
“I should point out to you,” said Martha, “that this is a coed sauna and nudity is not a bright idea.”
Terry smirked at Martha. “Scared?”
“You bet. In case you haven’t noticed I’m not thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed alright. But in case you haven’t noticed, it’s women’s night. Or hadn’t you wondered why there weren’t any men?”
I think we all felt like taking off our suits then and there, but Terry’s smirk would have just got bigger and more carnivorous, so we didn’t.
Terry snorted and moved over to take her place by Sally, who had to move over to make way. We were crammed like sardines and I was getting really hot. I couldn’t figure out how on earth Sally and Sandy could stand the sauna for so long. I was only staying out of curiosity. Maybe they were too.
Terry sat on the top tier and scanned the room, look–ing at each of us in turn, as if we were insect specimens.
As she got to Sally she suddenly recoiled. “Jesus, Sally.
What the hell’s the matter with you?” We all looked at Sally who had managed to dry up her tears and was looking pretty normal. Sally frowned and said nothing.
“Your necklace, girl. For god’s sake, can’t you feel it?”
Sally looked down at the cross around her neck as if she had never seen it before. She picked it up and quickly dropped it, looking at her fingers in surprise. Sandy moved closer to Sally and amid some ouches and ows got the necklace off and unceremoniously dropped it on the cedar bench. There was a red cross on her skin and no one said anything, but you could feel the question on every lip: “Why didn’t you feel it?” Just showed how far gone she was over Arthur, I figured.
“Jesus. What kind of a person wears a bloody neck–lace into a sauna?” asked Terry. No one said anything.
“Talk about dumb.”
In response Sally looked up in despair and said, “But it’s so hard to be Sally.” She gulped, looking like she’d swallowed a big hunk of sorrow, or had quietly gone mad.
“What I mean is it’s hard to be me, hard to be Sally when Arthur is gone. I don’t feel anything.” She looked around at the rest of us and made an effort to smile. “I just thought I’d found the right guy you know?”
Elizabeth and Tracey exchanged glances and Terry rolled her eyes. “Oh Lord, stop crying over spilt milk.”
Sally jerked her head up and whispered. “At least with spilt milk you can lap it up, so nothing’s wasted. This is not spilt milk.”
“Okay, so it’s spilt milk on sand. What’s the difference? Your analogy stinks. If you think you’re unique, think again. We’ve all been through it.” Terry looked around at the rest of us but no one said anything, no one nodded either. It was as if we were isolating her by refusing to agree with what we all knew was the truth. I wondered why.
Suddenly Sally stood up and lurched for the door. Terry smiled and caught her by the arm. I didn’t see what passed between them because Sandy suddenly stood up and blocked my vision.
Martha grabbed my arm. Terry looked at Martha. “Is it possible that you have no idea what you look like in that thing?”
Martha daintily opened the sauna door wider and gracefully walked out, calling over her shoulder, “Is it possible that you have no idea what you just said?”
As I left I looked back at Terry, who languidly raised her hand as if giving me permission to leave. “I cannot believe that you are going to jump in the pool in your bathing suits,” she said. “Bunch of cowards.”
“Now for the good part,” Martha said as we trooped out the changing room door in our bathing suits, down the hall, past two cabins, and out the aft door onto a metal catwalk.
Somewhere along the way we lost Elizabeth and Tracey, but they must have gone into the showers rather than brave the Arctic wind. And the pool. It looked like something you’d see at a really old zoo. It was very small and completely square, enclosed by a seri–ous looking iron railing that came right down to the edge of the water. You certainly couldn’t swim lengths in this kid-sized pool, unless they were vertical. The water was very deep and very clear. I figured they must have used it to contain wild aquatic animals because it looked like a prison. And it sat half a deck below the top observation deck, which meant that anybody could come and watch us frolic in the icy cold waters, mak–ing fools of ourselves.
As we skittered down the fire escape type stairs the cold Arctic wind was threatening to beat the pool to the punch. By the time we got down there and draped our towels over the railing I was feeling decidedly less hot and hoped the pool wasn’t as cold as it looked.
Fat chance. The maniacal scream as Martha made the first leap was not reassuring. There are sauna-induced screams and then there are sauna-induced screams. The higher the pitch the greater the shock, and I think her scream would have broken a wineglass. If I had had any doubts they were all dispelled by Sandy’s high-pitched squeal and Sally’s awful, long, drawn out moan. I knew that I should have gone first. And then it was my turn but I had to fight my way to the jumping off spot as every–one raced to get out. Suddenly I stood alone, everyone chattering around me and draped in nice warm towels, feeling the rosy glow you get after you survive the breath stopping cold.
“Go for it, Cordi,” called Martha. “It’ll fix your stomach for sure.”
“Yeah, by killing it outright,” I replied.
They all yelled their encouragement until finally I leapt. The cold nearly knocked me out, sucking away my breath like a siphon. I came up clawing for the ladder and grabbed something soft and warm instead. I looked up anxiously, wanting to get the hell out of the pool and there was Terry looking down at me, grinning like the cat who ate the canary, still without a stitch of clothing on her body.
“This is how you’re supposed to do it, ladies.” She stood there for a while as if we were both enjoying a dip in the tropical south and then she suddenly let out an unholy bellow and jumped over my head into the water. I scampered out and Martha draped my towel over my shoulders as I began to shiver. We were all watching Terry as she dog-paddled to the ladder, got out, slipped on her slippers and wrapped her towel around herself.
Something made me look up at the open deck imme–diately above the pool. Arthur was standing there, the fog swirling around him, making him look indistinct and wraithlike. He was dressed in a down jacket and watch cap, resting his arms on the railing, completely still, staring down at Terry. His face was expressionless, like a man staring at something he couldn’t see. His gaze flitted to me for a split second and then he slowly turned away and disappeared. He didn’t seem to care that I had seen him, which was very disquieting. Peeping Toms are usually secretive.
