Even after everything I've been through in the last year, I still don't like feeling visible in public. Or maybe that's not much of a surprise, but you'd at think I'd at least be acclimated enough to just suck it up and deal with it, right?
Well, kind of. In practice there were never very many places I went to by myself as Ainsley. I learned to tolerate and tunnel-vision through the commute to work, the grocery store, the small loop where I walked SugarBunny. (I imagine Ainsley's walks with SugarBunny had a lot more variety than my own did.) The Lounge, eventually. There were some others during my, manic episode, like the gym, but even if I wanted to reproduce those days I don't think it'd be possible right now. Not while I'm on the precipice of being Isaac again. Regardless, I hardly ever went out without a group, besides a few specific places I had no choice but to tolerate out of necessity.
Old Orchard Beach isn't one of those places. Like I said a lifetime ago, being alone in a place like this feels inherently suspect to me, for no good reason, and being Ainsley hasn't changed that besides replacing some of the suspectness with other vulnerabilities. But I have Heather to wander around with me this time, so it's not so bad.
Of course, she's still Heather...
"Heather? Is this yours?" A lavender bikini sat on the bed in my room at the Inn. Heather and I have separate rooms connected through a shared bathroom.
"Pretty sure it's yours," came the muffled reply from the bathroom.
"It's definitely not mine, I know I didn't pack any."
"Well, I did." Heather opened the door, wearing a sundress clearly meant to be a coverup. She sat down on my bed like she owned the place. "I snuck into your room while you were dropping off SugarBunny at the kennel and dug up a couple from Ainsley's drawers to throw in your suitcase. So. I think it's yours."
I didn't dignify that with any expression stronger than blankly staring at her. "God. Have you been reading the blog?"
She laughed. "Look, I'm never gonna look this good in a bikini again, and I'm not the first Inn guest to realize that. Some things are traditions for a reason."
"That doesn't expl--"
"And the same goes for you. C'mon. Don't you want to at least try something you'll never get the chance to do again? You might as well try being girly when Ainsley's friends aren't making you do it."
"And it's so much better when you're making me do it?"
"I'd like to think so." I wonder if she'll be this enthusiastic when she's thirty years older.
I rolled my eyes, which must've made me look to Heather like one of the far too many teenage girls she's encountered over her career, and I choose to assume that's why she giggled at me. "You're just saying all that because you don't want to be the only one of us in a bikini."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm the one who's scared of that? You gonna think about what you said for five seconds?" I couldn't argue that she had a point; she's been wearing Sara's skimpiest clothes since we got to the Inn. "Please. Y'know, some of us call that projection."
I wore the bikini.
I wish I'd brought a book with me to Maine. I get why that's a stereotype now; the sun's glare was so strong that it was nearly impossible to see my phone's screen, and you really need some form of distraction from the fact that you're just sitting there in what amounts to socially acceptable underwear. We really should've just shelled out for an umbrella, I don't intend on giving Ainsley an accidental sunburn as a parting gift and I don't think Sara's body is even capable of tanning.
I don't know how much time I spent in my own world before Heather tapped me on a bare shoulder. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever seen you take a selfie, and now you've been trying out angles for like, ten minutes. Like what you see?"
I blushed. "It's not like that!" I turned my phone towards her to show the screen was off, not that it'd make much of a difference if it was on in this lighting. "I'm looking at my reflection on the screen-- don't look at me like that, it's the only thing our phones are good for right now and what am I gonna do, sleep? I can't sleep like this."
"I could sleep like this." Heather theatrically stretched out and yawned.
"Yeah, well, I know most people would be totally okay sleeping basically naked in public, but I guess I'm just built different."
I sat up a bit higher and pulled my knees closer to my torso, sighing. "I just thought I'd be more used to this, I guess? After this long? We're on a crowded beach in the middle of summer, there's women in bikinis in every direction, I've been wearing bras for a year, I know nothing looks out of the ordinary here and I still feel like I'm a freak."
"Wow, I can't believe I'm talking to the first girl ever to be insecure with how she looks in a bikini."
"Oh, fuck off, you know it's different. And I know I look, Ainsley looks... fine. Good, even." My voice got lower the closer I got to genuinely complimenting Ainsley's appearance, before I caught myself and cleared my throat. "It's not a logical thing, okay? I was like this before the Inn, too. Not that I was wearing bikinis, but I always thought I looked gross shirtless."
Heather thought for a moment. "Well, at least you're admitting it's not logical, since I'd say you're wrong abou-- actually forget I said that."
"Oh, so you're agreeing with me that my old body's--" Then I remembered the particular circumstances in which Heather actually had seen Isaac Strauss' body shirtless. "As I was saying. I've never liked showing much skin. There's swimshirts but those just look stupid. I've always kind of hated the beach except when I was a little kid."
"I'm sorry, the guy who spent money to spend two weeks in a town called Old Orchard Beach hates the beach?"
"Ugh. I wasn't supposed to be alone, it wasn't my idea, the booking was non-refundable, I was going insane. You know this already, come on."
"I know, I know, I just couldn't not make that joke after you said all that."
"Well, I already know everything's a joke to you."
That got her to quiet down for a while. Served her right, I thought at the time. I've spent the last year dealing with her and Marvin and Ainsley's friends trying to prod their way into my issues even well past the point where it's called for.
I went back to alternating between staring at my phone and the sky (it'd be nice to be able to sleep like this) for a while. The next time I looked over at Heather, I saw tears welling up in her eyes.
"Hey, are you crying?"
She sighed. "Don't worry about it."
"You know, if you saw me crying and I went all 'don't worry about it', you'd practically want to interview me. But I'll--"
"It's hard to stop being a mom," Heather spoke softly. "Even after everyone leaves you."
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I went back to laying down and just kind of feeling bad about the whole thing. Eventually she sat up, dusted off a part of her hand which had strayed from her towel, and started packing up her things.
"Hey. Want to take some selfies?" I asked.
Heather grinned a bit. "That'd be a first, coming from you."
"Well, people keep telling me I need to try these things, apparently."
We took some selfies before we got back to packing up. Heather was really fussy about her exact facial expression and it took us a while to get one she found acceptable. I'd rolled my eyes about it, but then I didn't like how I looked in the one she got, and we must've spent a solid five minutes trying to get one that satisfied both of us before I finally had enough of my fit of vanity and we left the beach.
Heather kept looking at the selfies as we walked back. "Where'd you learn to smile like that?"
"More time practicing in front of a mirror than I'd like to count."
I looked at the selfie again and saw two completely ordinary young women on a beach trip. I looked at Sarah, and down at my body in the bikini, and back at the crowd, and I saw the same thing. Crazy.
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