The crowd by the pool had gradually thinned. Empty loungers sat in uneven rows, towels draped over armrests, still holding the shape of bodies now gone. The water's surface had settled, reflecting the pale afternoon sky in long, unbroken sheets of light.
I stood in the middle of the empty space in the general area. White bikini.
Tsukago stood to my side, holding up her phone, the camera aimed at me.
The floating interface lit up, the livestream camera automatically starting.
"This girl here is going to teach you a few basic belly dance hand gestures today." I raised both hands to my chest, palms facing down, and gently rotated my wrists. "First, this one. When you rotate your wrists, don't let your fingers go stiff. It's like you're paddling through water."
[chat] Here we go 😆
[chat] Finally a tutorial ✨
[chat] Beauty teaching us step-by-step stretches ✨
[chat] That finger dexterity is unreal 👏
I slowed my movements, rotating my wrists, flicking my fingertips, from left to right, repeating it twice. "This girl here combines it with a hip sway. Simple, left, right, left, right, yes." I stood in place, pushing my hips to the left, then to the right, the amplitude not large, but each movement landing right on my breath.
Tsukago zoomed in, focusing on my hand movements. I repeated it twice more, even slower, letting the viewers clearly see the angle of the wrist rotation and the direction of the fingertip flick.
"Did this girl here's lesson stick? Rotate the wrist, flick the fingertips, and the hips follow the hands."
——She smiled. It was only for a second, but it was enough.
She stood up from her spot against the wall, the child shifting on her shoulder. The tiny fingers of its hand were clutching her collar in its sleep, holding on tight.
A figure entered my line of sight. That young mother had stood up from her spot against the wall, her child in her arms, the bag looped over her wrist. She walked a few steps toward us but didn't come too close, stopping about three or four steps away.
Her dress still had the coffee stain on it. The color was darker than yesterday, the edges now dry. The child's face was resting against her shoulder, its eyes closed, its breathing light. The child's little hand was clutching her collar, holding on tight.
"Are you heading out?"
She nodded. "Mm, the baby's sleepy."
She looked down at the child in her arms, then raised her head to look at me. Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but her gaze fell on the phone camera in my hand and she pulled it back. The bag swayed on her wrist, the diaper packaging rustling inside. She lifted her head and looked toward the pool exit, where a few people were folding up parasols. She didn't walk over.
"Thank you." Her voice wasn't loud. "For making me feel like someone is still willing to listen to me."
"Take care on the way."
She turned and left. After two steps, she looked back at me once, then kept walking. The bag swayed on her wrist, only the last two diapers left inside.
I lowered my head to fish something out of my deep wine-red bag. My fingers brushed against something fuzzy and accidentally pulled it out. A rubber mouse tumbled out of my bag, landed on the tiles, rolled twice, and stopped right where she'd been standing. A gray rubber body, pink ears, tiny black eyes.
"Ah, this girl here's little pet got out."
I crouched down to pick it up. When my fingers touched the mouse, I pressed the button on its back. The mouse let out a squeak. Sharp, short, like some kind of electronic alert.
She hadn't gone far. She turned around at the sound. I stood up, cupping the mouse, and waved it at her.
"It doesn't bite. It just squeaks. Listen, doesn't it sound like an alarm clock that can't wake you up in the morning?"
She looked at the mouse.
"When the alarm clock can't wake me up, that's when I need to get out of bed." Her voice was very soft, like she was speaking to herself.
——She heard the alarm. She just needed someone else to press snooze one last time.
Then she turned and left. After a few steps, she paused and tilted her head slightly back. Her lips moved like she was saying something, but the sea breeze scattered the words. She lifted her free hand, her fingers brushing once against the spot below her collarbone before dropping back down.
I put the mouse back into my deep wine-red bag, stood up, and dusted off my hands.
[chat] So good at comforting people
[chat] That mouse is so cute 😆
[chat] PTSD from the sound of interview notifications 😂
[chat] That's so creative 👏
The crowd by the pool had mostly dispersed. A few kids were still splashing around in the water. Their mothers sat by the poolside, towels draped over their laps, looking down at their phones.
I walked to the pool's edge and bent over, dipping my hand into the water. The water was warm. My fingertips traced across the surface.
Tsukago shifted the camera from the direction she'd left and back onto me.
In the direction of the pool exit, the afternoon light cast long shadows at the corridor corner.
The chat kept scrolling.
"This girl here is signing off for today."
I placed the phone on the windowsill. Outside the window, the pool water had calmed. The ripples from the dance had long since faded. On the distant deck, someone was folding a parasol, the sea breeze puffing up its canopy.
Back in the room, I sat down by the window.
Tsukago walked over and leaned against me quietly. She pulled the squirrel out of her light pink bag and set it on the windowsill, facing outside. The pool water had flattened completely, the last few kids dragged ashore by the arm, towels wrapped around their bodies.
"She touched her button again just now."
"Good that she did. Once or twice is habit. Three times is a distress signal."
Tsukago rested her face against my shoulder. "Then we wait for the third time."