Felix was grinning to himself. That’s your problem, he said, you’re hard on yourself for not being more like Jesus. You should do what I do, just be a dickhead and enjoy your life. Simon looked up then, smiling. You don’t seem like a dickhead, he said. But I’m glad to know you enjoy your life. Felix waded a little further ahead into the water.
Without turning back he said aloud: I’ve definitely done a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have done. But there’s no point crying over it, is there? I mean, maybe I do cry over it sometimes, but I try not to. Simon watched him for another second or two, the water lapping up around his small white body. Well, we’re all sinners, Simon said. Felix
turned around and looked at him then. Oh yeah, he said. He started laughing again. I forgot you lot believed that, he added. Absolute freaks, no offence. Come on, we’re not going to get a swim in at all if you stay standing there. He walked in a few steps further and then dipped his whole body under the surface of the water, disappearing completely.
On the shore Eileen was sitting up, cross-legged, leafing through a collection of short stories. Alice was lying on a towel beside her, sunlight glistening on her damp eyelids.
A breath of wind caught at a page of Eileen’s book and she smoothed it back down impatiently with her hand. Without opening her eyes Alice said: So what’s the situation? Eileen made no reply at first, did not even lift her head. Then she said: With Simon, you mean. I don’t know what the situation is. You know, I think we’re very different people. Alice’s eyes were open now, shielded by the flat of a hand, looking up at her. What does that mean? she asked. Eileen frowned down at a page of dense black type and then closed the book. He’s seeing someone else, she said. But I don’t know if it would have worked out between us anyway. You know, we’re just very different.
Alice still had her hand up, shading her eyes. You said that before, but what does it mean? she asked. Eileen put the book down then and took a drink of water from her bottle. After swallowing she said: You’re being intrusive. Alice dropped her hand away and closed her eyes again. Sorry, she said. Eileen put the cap back on the bottle, saying: It’s a touchy subject. A small insect landed on Alice’s towel and zipped away again through the air. Understandably, said Alice. Eileen was looking out at the horizon, two figures dropping down now below the surface of the water, and now emerging again, changing places with one another. If it didn’t work out, it would be too depressing, she remarked. Alice sat up on her elbows, digging two little hollows in the soft sand. But if
it did work out, said Alice. That’s gambling mentality, Eileen replied. Alice was nodding her head, her eyes travelling up and down the seated figure of her friend beside her. The slender black shoulder strap of her swimsuit. That’s risk aversion, said Alice.
Eileen was half-smiling. Self-sabotage, then, Eileen answered. Alice was smiling too, cocking her head to one side. That’s arguable either way, she said. He does love you, though. Eileen glanced around at her then, saying: What, he said that to you? Alice shook her head. No, I just mean it’s obvious, she replied. Eileen bent forward over her crossed legs, planting her hands down on the rough pink-patterned towel in front of her, the little ridges of her spine showing through the thin synthetic cloth of her swimsuit.
Right, in a way he loves me, she said. Because I’m a little idiot who can’t do anything for myself, that’s his big thing. She straightened up again and rubbed her eyes with her hands. Earlier in the year, around January or February, I started getting really bad headaches, she said. And one night I went down this rabbit hole online looking up my symptoms, and I convinced myself I had a brain tumour. This is a completely stupid story, by the way. Anyway, I called Simon at like one in the morning to tell him I was scared I had brain cancer and he got a taxi over to my apartment and let me cry on him for like an hour. He didn’t even seem annoyed, he was just very chilled out. Not that I wanted him to be annoyed. But would I ever do that for him? If he called me in the middle of the night saying, oh hey Eileen, what’s up, I’ve irrationally convinced myself I have a rare form of cancer, do you want to come over and let me cry on you until I tire myself out and fall asleep? There’s no point even imagining how I would react, because it’s just something he would never do. In fact if he did that, I would assume there genuinely was something wrong with his brain. Alice was laughing. You have all these stories where you’re a hypochondriac, she said. But you never come across that way to