It took the best of a quarter hour, and she had to shift and move her legs around quite a bit. When she was finally finished and sank back into the tub, she had to add some hot water. Her fingers roamed over her freshly shaven mound and she revelled in the feeling, astonished by the smoothness and sensitivity.
She had brought her cordless phone, but she didn’t really expect it to ring. So when it did, it was accompanied by a startled shout, her foot slipped from the opposing end of the tub and her head nearly went all the way under the water. Coughing, she came up again and grabbed the phone.
"Yes?" she managed between sputters.
"Helen! Good morning! What are you doing?"
"Hi Miranda!" Helen sneezed, her nose tickling from the bubbly water it had accidentally been filled with. "Sorry, I’m taking a bath, and the phone startled me, and my head went all under..."
A loud guffaw sounded through the speaker. "Oh Helen, that’s just so you! Almost drowning because the phone rings!"
Miranda seemed to be in an especially chipper mood today, which meant that she probably had some new gossip and would be visiting all her friends over the day to spread it.
"Wait!" Miranda’s voice grew more honest. "It’s early in the morning and you're taking a bath? I know you girl. Have you had sex?"
Shit. Miranda in fact knew her too well. The woman, five years her senior, had become her best - and only - friend over a short stint at the company where Helen had worked, and had since been with her through the highs and lows of her life, consoling her after failed relationships and helping her get through the death of her parents. She’d been a life savior more than once, a real friend - but also one with a high level of curiosity, one that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Helen finally stuttered, "yes, no, not exactly," and instantly knew that this was the wrong thing to say.
"That," Miranda’s voice was now dripping with sarcasm, "makes me really curios. How do you not exactly have sex?"
Helen tried to come up with a plausible story, but an instant later Miranda was already babbling away again.
"Never mind, I talked to Erica from the gym yesterday, and she told me some interesting news about the Miller’s. I’ll bring lunch and get you up to date with the newest gossip."
There was a clicking noise, and the hooting of the dial-tone filled her ear. She hung up the phone and closed her eyes. Never minding the fact that her friend hadn’t even waited for her to agree, there was one question running through her head. What was she going to tell Miranda?
* * *
The door to the grocery opened and Helen stepped inside to the chiming of the old, mechanical bell. Every time she did so she felt like moving through a time portal. The wares were still in the low shelves she remembered from her child days, and the air was filled with the same mix of smells. Warm bread, sugar, fresh fruits and cabbage mingled and took her back to better times. She needed to buy some vegetables, as Miranda tended to go for meat and pasta when she brought lunch but used to forget about salad. She picked a few ripe and soft plum tomatoes, two onions, and was just about to reach for a yummy looking head of lettuce when somebody bumped into her side.
"Sorry," They both said simultaneously, the other voice sounding young and melodic, and somehow familiar. She turned towards its owner, but didn’t immediately recognize her. The girl was a bit smaller than her, and lithe, wearing a yellow one-piece mini dress and had - at this moment, her mind creaked to a standstill - short, dark brown hair with blonde highlights. She could also see recognition in the girl’s eyes.
Then the girl smiled brightly. "Oh, so good to finally meet you. I’m Lisa, Lisa Briggs, your new neighbor."
Helen automatically reached for the proffered hand and shook it. "Helen," she managed to croak, "Helen Sanders." She waited for the ground to open up and swallow her, but, of course, that didn’t happen.
"I’ve been wanting to meet you since I moved in," Lisa babbled happily, "you’ve got such a beautiful garden, you’ve got to have loads of tips for me for what I can do with mine. You have to come over for coffee soon."
"I," Helen was searching the girl’s face for signs that might give away whether she really had seen her dirty performance, but she found only teenage bubbliness, and with an immense feeling of relief she said: "I’d like that."
Lisa had a small nose and a narrow chin, which together with her high cheekbones gave her an impish quality when she smiled. Helen felt a flutter low in her stomach and realized that their hands were still wrapped around each other’s. She tried pulled hers away, but Lisa’s grip got even stronger.
"I’ll have to run, my new bed will be delivered any moment," Lisa told her. "Know what, I’ll just come over in the afternoon and we can talk more." Helen felt a bit knocked over by the girl’s enthusiasm, but then Lisa’s eyes took on a strange gleam. "You know," the girl said slowly, "what I like most in this shop?" And without waiting for an answer, she snatched a huge cucumber from the shelve and pressed it against Helens body, leaving her no choice but to clutch it to herself.
Time seemed to stand still around her, and she was unable to move, almost drowning in her embarrassment.
Then the girl stood on tiptoes and bent closer, her cheek almost brushing Helen’s when she whispered: "They do have the most delicious cucumbers."
Helen was rooted to the spot and only realized that Lisa had let go of her hand and left the shop long after bell had chimed. Waves of shame ran up and down her body. She looked around, suddenly panicked, but she was lucky. Nobody had taken notice the two of them. George, the owner, was just handing out the change to the only other customer.
She continued her shopping on shaky legs. She did buy the cucumber, though.
* * *
At quarter past twelve, the doorbell rang. Helen, still carrying a tight knot of worry in her belly, let Miranda in, who marched straight through into the kitchen and set a plastic bag on the counter, then pulled Helen into a hug. Miranda was famous for her hugs, with her being almost six feet tall and quite curvy, or as she would put it herself, with thirty-plus pounds of additional cushioning. Her best friend immediately started babbling about this and that, telling her who in their part of town had a new car, who was supposed to be getting divorced, ranted about the latest price increase for fuel and a number of other inconsequential things which Helen could feel safe to ignore while she prepared the salad.
Over lunch, which they took outside at the table in front of the living room, protected from the sun by a cream colored awning, the topic turned inevitably towards her new neighbor. "You wouldn’t believe what Erica told me!"
Helen sighed. Everybody knew that Erica was an even worse gossip hound than Miranda, and someone - she couldn’t exactly recall who - had once joked that Erica would win the national bodybuilding competition if she gained a gram of muscle for every hour of gossip she traded.