Page 34 of The Woman in 3B
“You’re Polish?” she questioned.
Hamtramck was just beyond Detroit’s city boundaries. It had originally been the center of Polish-American life, but in recent decades, the town had attracted new immigrants from Yemen and Bangladesh.
I nodded. “Alice Kaminski,” I told her my full name. “It doesn’t get more Polish than that. Hence my ignorance.”
The hard edges of her features softened. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out. “I shouldn’t have jumped on you. But when you’re from Dearborn, you get sick and tired of being called a terrorist.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “I spoke without thinking.”
Anissa shook her head. “I’ve heard much worse. You’re harmless.”
“And you’re gorgeous,” I replied without thinking.
“You’re forgiven,” she laughed.
I made myself a plate of food, even though I wasn’t very hungry. I’d already insulted Anissa once; I didn’t want to do more damage by refusing to eat. There were extra seats at the shaded table where her parents sat or the loungers near the two women who might have been her sisters. I would be forced to make polite small-talk in either situation, so I sat down by the pool’s edge instead with my paper plate on my lap.
Anissa had entered the pool and played a game of Marco Polo with her nieces and nephews. They hovered in a circle around her, keeping a careful distance from their aunt, who was currently “It.” Periodically, Anissa submerged underwater before popping up in a different place, much to her nieces’ and nephews’ delight.
I hadn’t grown up with a pool—in-ground pools weren’t very practical in Michigan, where we only experienced three months of warm weather—but I knew the game’s rules. With your eyes closed, you had to find and tag someone else who would then become “It.” When you yelled “Marco,” the other players had to respond with “Polo.” Because your eyes were closed, the sound of the other players’ voices was the only way you could really hone in on tagging someone else to be “It.”
I finished eating and set my empty plate to the side. I contemplated my next move while Anissa continued to splash around with her nieces and nephews. The sun was hot and the air smelled like chlorine from the pool and grilled meat. I could hear the local radio station calling that afternoon’s Tiger’s baseball game coming from an adjacent yard. It was a nice day for a pool party, but my body refused to relax; I wasn’t an invited guest, and I barely knew the party’s host.
It reminded me of house parties I’d attended as a freshman in college. We weren’t old enough to go to the bars, so practically every weekend night my roommate and some other girls from my dorm floor floated around the neighborhoods surrounding campus, looking for house parties. Free beer was always in the back kitchen and no one stopped to ask us if we knew anyone at the party. We were young and pretty. Those qualifications were all the identification required.
One of the women from the loungers got up from her chair and settled next to me at the pool’s edge. She dangled her feet over the concrete edge and let her heels sink into the chlorinated water. I smiled in her general direction, but didn’t officially address her.
“Alice, right?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I’m Amy,” she introduced herself. “I’m married to Anissa’s brother, Sam. He’s the one with the tongs.”
“Your husband is a grill master,” I remarked. “My cheeseburger was cooked to perfection.”
The woman—Amy—didn’t directly reply to my compliment. “Do you work with Anissa?” she asked.
I could tell she was trying to parse out how we knew each other, and why I’d crashed their family get-together.
“No. I’m a flight attendant,” I said, absently moving my feet in the water. “Anissa has been on a few of my flights.”
Amy’s features pinched in confusion, but she was polite enough not to ask any follow-up questions. I could understand her confusion, however; I myself couldn’t really understand what I was doing here—sitting poolside in one of Anissa’s bathing suits—while her family looked on.
“Woo, it’s hot,” I breathed. I waved my hand near my face like a fan. “I’m gonna go in,” I said, jerking my thumb in the direction of the water. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Amy said with a nod.
I slid into the pool, careful not to splash the other woman. I quietly hissed when the colder water hit my exposed abdomen. The day was actually mild compared to how hot it typically got in the summer, but going in the pool was a convenient excuse to get away.I swam a few feet before glancing back at Amy. She continued to stare in my direction, but the mirrored lens on her sunglasses made it difficult to interpret her expression.
I half swam, half bounced on my tiptoes towards Anissa and her nieces and nephews. She was still “It.” Every time she emerged from underwater, popping up like a submerged cork, her nieces and nephews shrieked with glee.
I stood still while one of her nieces doggy-paddled toward me. Of the five children in the pool, she looked to be the youngest, maybe five or six years old, but I wasn’t very good at identifying kids’ ages. I’d once offered pilot’s wings to a boy who ended up being twelve and was therefore too cool for that kind of baby stuff.
Anissa’s niece wasn’t a strong swimmer; I heard her gasps and grunts as she barely stayed afloat. I let my arm float on top of the water, and even though I was a stranger, she immediately clung to the proffered limb like a buoy in the ocean.
My mouth opened in silent surprise when she grabbed onto my shoulder and crawled around to my back. She clung onto me like a human backpack and used me as a shield between herself and Anissa. I played along, bobbing in the water, keeping our distance from Anissa, but close enough to still be included in the game. Each time I floated too close for the little girl’s comfort, she squealed and dug her nails into the tops of my shoulders.
Anissa popped up from the water a few feet away. “Marco!” she yelled.
