I lean back in the giant, porcelain, clawfoot tub and FaceTime Bree. The call connects just as a bubble pops by my shoulder. Her smiling face fills my screen, harsh studio lights hovering above her head. She squints, and then a smile bursts across her mouth.
“You’re in the bath!!!”
“A bubble bath.” I hold up a handful of suds.
I’ve never seen her look more pleased. I can see the light pink spaghetti straps of her leotard, and the hairs on her neck are matted down with sweat. When she takes the phone with her to sit down with her back leaning against the mirror, I can tell in the reflection that she’s alone. She’s breathing heavily. “And? Completely wonderful, right?”
“I had no idea what I was missing.” Truthfully, I’m pretty bored, but I’ll sit in here every night for the rest of my life if it makes her smile like that. Also, after my talk with Bree last night, I’m ready to start doing some things to take care of my mental health. I also scheduled an appointment with a therapist for next week. Nervous about that one, not gonna lie.
“Only way it could be better is if you were in here—”
“NNOOOPPEEE,” Jamal yells from the other side of the bathroom door.
Our flight got into Houston a few hours ago, and because of the strict curfew the team enforces the night before each game, I’m already in my hotel room for the night. Every player is assigned a suitemate when we travel, and Jamal is usually mine.
“Don’t you start all that. No one wants to hear your bubble bath dirty talk,” he says from the other side of the door where I’m sure he’s lying on the silk pillowcase he brought from home.
“Hi Jamal!” Bree yells into the phone.
“Just put your headphones on,” I tell him.
“No. I’ll still know what’s going on in there, and I’m not okay with that.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re just mad I stole the bathtub before you.”
“YES, I’M MAD!” he says in an indignant tone. “For years I’ve been taking a nightly bubble bath and enjoying the hell out of it, and all of a sudden, your new girlfriend tells you how glorious it is and you usurp my self-care time. Not cool, man.”
Bree looks delighted.
“He wears one of those crackly green masks like yours too,” I tell Bree, not bothering to keep my voice down.
“Yes, I do, and I don’t appreciate your condescending tone. Men can appreciate having good skin too. In fact, you could stand for a pore treatment or two, Nathan. I can see your blackheads through the door.”
My pores are just fine.
“Ignore him,” I tell Bree, sinking a little lower into the water. “So what are you doing at the studio?”
“Oh, I’m just working on the choreography for one of the recital dances coming up.”
“Yeah? Can I see?”
Her cheeks turn pink. Other than when I’ve peeked in on her teaching a class or two over the years, I haven’t seen her really dance since high school, since before the accident. For some reason, it’s always something she keeps to herself. I’m hoping now that things are changing between us, she’ll let me back into that part of her life as well.
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. It’s still rough. There’s not much to see.” Her shoulders are twitching and her head keeps shaking, making her look like an alien trying to do an impression of a Normal Human Being.
“Breeee.” I cut off her blabbering, and she shoots me a look.
“Natthhaannn.”
“Come on. Let me watch you dance. I’ll even put on a bubble beard the whole time to make you feel less embarrassed.”