I gingerly removed my sweaty tank top, cringing as it peeled off of my sticky aloe-covered skin. I
stood in front of the fan we bought from a Brit who was moving back to England, selling all her belongings for precise amounts: $3 per chair, $40 for the new twin futon, $0.50 for the dry erase marker, $2 for the white board, $4 for the fan.I took a deep breath and thought about showering, but instead started sorting through my closet, looking for something that would touch as little burnt skin as possible. I put on my gray miniskirt, which was a little tighter than I'd remembered, and a thin cotton tank top. I scrutinized myself in the mirror, changed the tank top twice, and then a third time, back to the first one.
My coworkers have only seen me in either sweaty biking gear or the black pants and black shirt spa uniform.
I took off the miniskirt and chose a knee length skirt instead. Much easier to sit in. I debated between the more healer/massage-therapist-appropriate flats, and the gray heels with sequin hearts I'd bought for an irresistible $10. (Ross Dress for Less is like TJ Maxx, but even cheaper and even less organized.)
I put the flats in my purse and wore the heels, put on eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, sparkly
bobby pins, bling bling dollar store earrings, the whole thing.I stood in front of the fan again, having broken a slight sweat from all the clothes changing, stuffiness, and probably from my heat-radiating skin.
A horn honked from outside, and I walked (rather well, I thought) in my heels, out the door, out the gate, into her little white car.
"Hey there, fancy!" Annie said.
"Thanks, hi!" I said as I settled into my seat and shut the door. "You look fancy cute too! Nice skirt," I said, admiring her frilly beaded hippie dealie.
"Thanks, yeah, I got it at one of those boutiques on Southport when it went on sale," she said, and I remembered, jarringly, that she had lived in Chicago for a few years. Along with about half of the people I've met out here. I thought about what kind of Chicago she knew, given that she went to those shops on Southport.
"It was one of those things where I was like yeah, that skirt is cute, but it's not worth $120, I don't care which of your friends made it, sorry. But yeah when it went on sale, I was like okay, I'll pay $60 for it."
"Well it's very nice beadwork," I said.
"Thanks, yeah, I wanted to dress up, but I didn't have time to shower, so I just left my hair up," she said.
"Oh, yeah, me neither, oh well."
"So this is my grandma car, sorry about the bottles down there," she said, referring to the Fuji water bottles in the passenger footwell. "You can put the seat back further."
"Oh that's okay, I've got short legs. Thanks so much for the ride, by the way."
"Sure, well we'll see; I'm terrible with directions, really honestly I shouldn't be driving a car, I'm a total mess about navigating. Even with the GPS unit I'm just a disaster, really."
"Well I'm in no hurry. And I have a map and a general idea of where were going," I said.
"Cool, yeah, we'll make it there I think. My dad just got me this thing, which is great, because I really really hate being lost, I mean I just freak out."
Annie drove and found something to apologize for every few minutes, keeping a steady monolog. I started to feel tired.
"Woof, I just got sleepy, sorry," I said, yawning. "I ate two of those big cookies at work, for no good reason. I think the sugar is hitting me."
"Oh, yeah, totally."
"I wish they would stock fruit or something, for snacks."
"Yeah, they used to," she said, "or at least granola bars, but lately it's been all sugar, or occasionally bananas, but by the time you figure out they're for us, and not the clients, they're all brown and mushy -- oh I think that was my turn."
"Turn right in 100 feet," said the GPS unit.
"Oh, no, okay, we're good," she said, taking the expressway exit. Or sorry, the freeway exit. Asking where the expressway is, here, just gets you shrugs and blank looks. It's free, but it's not express.
Annie apologized for her mediocre parallel parking skills, and for the tricky door locks, and we walked up the block until we saw an apartment full of balloons, and decided it must be Janine's.
The apartment was pleasantly populated already, and there was guac and chips and celery and lots of tequila. Annie added half a bottle of Gray Goose, Rose's lime juice, and some gin to the mix. I opted for water, taking pity on my poor skin.
I gave Janine another birthday hug, an outside work hug, and sat down with a couple of coworkers, everyone exclaiming over everyone's outfits.
"It's so nice to see you all in clothes you actually chose, you know?" I said.
"I know, right?" Kristin said, sitting with beautiful posture and a dress whose neckline dove halfway down her torso, beautifully tanned skin glowing from the Hawaii blue and grey floral cotton. I was impressed.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Kara asked, staring at Kristin with me.
"Seriously," I said.
"No, you're beautiful, look at you!" Kristin said to Kara. She was wearing a leather pencil skirt, and a tight white tank top with a drapey neckline that somehow highlighted her freckles, very striking on her Japanese face.
"You're both breathtaking," I said.
Almost the entire massage staff was at the party, and the manicurist, and a couple of the aestheticians. Conversation inevitably turned to bitching about our bosses: the gay couple owners and Bradley, the flamey-but-supposedly-straight spa director.
"Do we really believe he's straight?" I asked.
"No," three people said in chorus.
"I mean I don't know," Kara said, "but I mean, honestly."
"Yeah, I dunno. I kind of think he might just act flamey so he can get away with saying things people don't let straight guys say," I said, interested to see what they thought of the Bradley Personality Theory I've been working on.
"Huh," Kristin said.
"Totally," Kara said, toasting me with her tequila.
"Were you there when he told me I was 'stinky?' And had me raise my arms so he could spritz me?"
"Oh my god, I was totally there," Kristin said.
"What??" Kara said.
"God how demoralizing and insulting!" Kristin said.
"Yeah, and it was like my second day there. I was trying to go with the flow, you know? I think he just wanted to make me feel small. Whatever," I said. "But did you hear what he said that one time about shaving one leg?"
"Shaving a leg?" Mara, the manicurist, said.
"Doing what??" Kristin stared at me.
"Yeah, ok, he was just like," and I screwed up my face and voice into my best Bradley purse: "He was like 'Sometimes, when I get really lonely, I shave one of my legs, so it feels like I'm sleeping with someone else.'"
Kristin collapsed onto the rug with an "Oh my god" or three.
"You're kidding," Kara said, her mouth open.
"When I write my massage-spa TV pilot, that's gonna be a headliner," I said.
We discussed the camera in the break room, and the backasswards scheduling policies, and the celebs we'd worked on and what they were like, and the crap pay, and generally talked some good old-fashioned shit.
I watched everyone get a little tipsy, sticking to my water with a twist of lime, changing how I sat every few minutes when some part of my burn started complaining too much.
"You okay? You look fidgety," Annie said.
"Oh, I burned at the beach on Friday," I said. "I put on sunscreen literally every 45 minutes, but I was out for like 4 hours, and it was only 15 SPF, so..."
"Yeah, this Southern California sun'll get ya every time," Jack, another therapist (and that elusive character, The LA Native) said.
"Yeah, you could totally get away with that in Chicago, it's crazy," Annie said.
A cake was brought out, and we sang happy birthday -- I changed keys half way through -- and the party started prepping for an adventure to the nearby clubs and bars with dance floors. Annie and I agreed it was a good time to take off, since we both had to work in the morning, so we started making goodbye rounds.
I tried to hide my cringe when Jack squeezed my scorched back in a surprising friendly embrace (he'd said once, at work, that he's not a hugger), and I wished Janine some awesome birthday dancing. Everyone hugged me, some more tightly, more comfortably than others, but the intentions were uniformly sweet.
Annie seemed to have been caught in an apologizing loop (for not being able to go to the club, for not bringing food in addition to booze, for apologizing...), so I called to her from the door and waved, giving her an excuse to break off her sorrys.
I walked in my ridiculous heels back to the car with her, and we wound our way through the Los Angeles freeways toward Echo Park, hitting a wicked patch of traffic (at 11pm!), and making a few wrong turns before she deposited me safely at my door.I thanked her again, said I'd see her in the morning, and went inside. It was still warm out -- the first time it's been warm past sundown, since I've been here. I wondered what made the difference, why the dry air was suddenly retaining heat.
Mark wasn't home from his closing shift yet, so I lay down in my fancy outfit, waiting for him to arrive so I could show it off.
I wasn't really tired. I thought about what my outfit might've told my coworkers about me -- the pink and gray tiger-stripe tank top, the velvet gray skirt with slits on the sides. Kind of 90's, a little out of style maybe, but very coordinated. I decided I looked good.
From the way people had acted, I gathered they were all mostly unfamiliar with each other's dress styles. I got the feeling they hadn't socialized outside of work together, before.
And I lay on my bed, thinking about how easy the party had been, how I hadn't even been tempted to use any social lubricant, had easily stuck to water. The spot on my back where Jack had gripped with his fingers still felt a little raw, and was radiating a little heat. But hey, at least it was meant to be warm. I don't mind a little overshooting, now and then.
I've been missing my massage school peeps, and my little massage spa family from the dive spa in Chicago. I'd wondered if that kind of bond existed at this place, and I just wasn't seeing it, hadn't been let in, yet. But I don't think it did exist. I think the dry air just suddenly decided to retain some heat.
