Chapter 11
Carlos
Hours later, the cool waters of the river pour over my skin. I’m in one of the public swimming pools of the Limmat River, tucked by the trees across from the park, swimming stroke after stroke into the fast-moving water.
The river is crowded. On my walk, I passed dozens of people on the water floating on everything from stand-up paddle boards to hot dog and unicorn inflatables.
This part, though, is roped off for swimmers only.
If I concentrate, every time I lift my head out of the water to breathe, I can hear the sounds of music and the laughter of kids as they use the nearby rope swing to launch themselves into the center of the river.
The current is so strong that if I stop I’ll lose my prime spot, so I keep my strokes strong and steady.
My thoughts, though, are anything but.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Jade would be anxious over the presentations.
I’ve never given much thought over the differences between small groups—where Jade clearly excels—or being up on stage in front of hundreds of people.
My preference is the latter—small talk is forfeit when you’ve got a microphone—but I’m not most people.
God, it’s even the subject of jokes. Picture people naked, or pretend the audience isn’t there.
Does Jade do any of those things? I put my foot in my mouth today, and I’m not going to ask her what she’s done to alleviate her anxiety, though I do know that I owe her an apology.
I wonder if there’s anything I can do to make the presentations go smoother.
At the very least, I can be more understanding.
I cringe at the memory of telling her that the presentation was boring.
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’?”
Jade rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that you’d zero in on that.”
“I’m too proud of my brother to not . . . ah. Drop names?”
I look between the two women, who are now laughing. “What is so funny?”
Jade bites down on a cheese-covered cracker and hastily chews, covering her mouth with her hand. Once she swallows, she tells me, “My friend Sara is dating Chris R?cher.”
“And my brother is Alwin,” Lisa adds.
I pause with a dried apricot halfway to my mouth. Alwin is the lead singer of Verduistering, and Chris is the guitarist.
Was. Last year they won the European Music Awards, this year the band announced their breakup.
Both women giggle, and I try to wipe the stunned look off my face.
Jade spends time, apparently, with one of the biggest music stars in Europe.
And Lisa is his sister. “I thought Alwin wasn’t in touch with his family?
” The words are out before I can censor myself.
It’s a rude thing to bring up, probably.
I sound not only star struck, but like I’m fishing for gossip.
Lisa shrugs. “Our parents are assholes. It took longer for me to realize it, but the joke is on them now; they’ve lost both their children to their ‘sexual deviances.’”
Alwin is pansexual and open about having been kicked out of the house as a teenager, a thought that sends rage through me. The idea of tossing Fernando out on the street is beyond comprehension.
“Speaking of which,” Jade says. “There’s a woman at my two o’clock that’s been checking you out.”
“I’m not interested,” I grumble, without even looking.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
I glance up and Jade looks at me with reproach.
Lisa glances to her left, behind me, and then turns back, raising an eyebrow. Jade bends her knees, curling her torso over her legs to reach for the fruit and lean toward Lisa.
“I must go,” Lisa says dramatically. “The femme, she calls to me.” She laughs as she stands and saunters over to the woman, leaving Jade and me alone.