Somewhere along the Mediterranean coast



Somewhere along the Mediterranean Coast, a pair of legs dangle from the top of a square boulder that is large enough to cast a shadow on a cross-legged girl.

With only a pair of swimming shorts  on, Violetta interrupts ‘Swann’s Way’ for the spectacle that is a small, white yacht crawling towards the shore. 

“Hey Katya, check it out, they’re here.”

“Huh-huh, oh yuh, I basically forgot about them. Well… I guess we should at least pretend like we’re happy to see them,” Katya cranes her neck towards the distance.

“C’mon, I know the way you look at Robbie,” Violetta says with a smirk, “Don’t tell me you weren’t looking forward to seeing them again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katya lightly chuckles, “Anyway, do you think we should err at least put a top on?”

“Yeah, I guess we should be civilised in this instance.”

Katya put out the joint and walked to the pebbles below. The way she swam reminded Violetta of a leaking tap, dripping one drop at a time—barely a ripple made. Violetta’s legs were still stinging from the nettles she fought as the girls walked through the overgrown path to get to their secluded spot.

She barely shifted her position as she slid on a loose, DayGLo tank top. She was beginning to grasp the importance of decisions—of why most people get a job, find a life partner and so on. She was on the cusp of feeling the weight of phrases like ‘I feel lost’ and ‘it’s always so difficult for me’. 

It was a weight she welcomed—a weight which made her feel like she was everyone else—that she was human. It was like how she would cry during a film when someone displays compassion or kindness. It felt uplifting but, at the same time, it was difficult to take in emotionally and certainly impossible to make sense of  intellectually.

Katya pulled herself on board. Despite her nimble frame, she could easily carry her own weight. She practised capoeira and although she wasn’t as confident, she was far better than Violetta. Her abdominal muscles peeked through and glistened as the salt water fell onto the deck.

Violetta made her way to the edge of the water and gave a wave. When the crew smiled at her, she blew them a kiss and went back up to gather the pinot grigio, still sweating in the comfort of a soft, red blanket.

They landed ashore and bellowed out Violetta‘s name. She felt embraced in a series of hugs, ending with an unnecessary meeting of bodies between her and Katya.