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Miranda popped her phone into her bag, having been periodically checking her dating app and messages every spare moment. ‘I don’t want to keep wasting my time with losers. At least with internet dating, I can get apreviewfirst, and decide whether to meet them or not.’ Miranda pushed open a cubicle door, and Linda did the same. ‘Not that it helped much last night, my first attempt was a disaster!’ She took off her nametag and shoved it into the phone compartment of her bag as well, the interior way too overcrowded with all the items she had packed in there, then removed her work jacket.
‘Ooh ... do tell, Miranda!’ Linda urged from the next cubicle.
‘His name was Abe. The fact that he said he liked movies, dressing up to go out, and discussing interesting topics over a gourmet meal piqued my interest.’ Miranda wriggled out of her pencil skirt, wiped sanitiser spray onto the seat, and sat on the porcelain throne. She didn’t like to think of them as ‘toilets’, it was such a horrible name. Her mother had told her it was a throne in an effort to more easily ‘toilet’ train her as a child. It worked. However, when strange looks came from the teachers and children at school whenever she asked, ‘May I use the throne, please?’ Miranda was encouraged to learn the correct terminology.
‘So, what was the problem?’ Linda asked.
‘What I didn’t know until I met him, was that the movies he liked were sci-fi flicks, the topics he liked to discuss were sci-fi flicks, and the dressing up meant wearing costumes from sci-fi flicks.’
Laughter erupted from the next cubicle. ‘Did he ‘dress up’ for your date?’
‘He wore a cloak. Can you believe it? A cloak! It even had a hood!’
‘I’m so glad I’m sitting on the toilet right now, Miranda!’ Linda said, before a flush punctuated their conversation.
Miranda changed into black pants, a purple V-neck top and denim jacket, and emerged from the cubicle with her bag over her shoulder. ‘You know what else?’ Miranda washed her hands with a large, frothy helping of liquid soap. ‘He even offered to take me to his car to show me his light sabre. Apparently, it not only lights up, but makes a noise as well.’ She shook her hands and wiped them with two sheets of paper from the dispenser.
‘Was that the moment you knew he wasn’t for you?’ Linda sniggered, and Miranda gave her a friendly slap on the arm.
‘I knew the moment I saw him wearing a cloak, but I stuck it out through two rounds of drinks, before making an excuse of having an early morning the next day.’
‘So, Abe was no Babe,’ Linda concluded.
‘Definitely not!’ Miranda slid fuchsia-coloured lipstick from one corner of her lips to the other, then plumped them together, while Linda pulled her hair into a ponytail.
‘You off to your night class?’ asked Linda.
‘Yep, not long to go before I’m qualified. You off to the gym?’
‘Sure am, Pump class.’
‘Good on ya girl, I must go back one day, but I’m a bit scared to faceNo Excuses Naomiagain. Actually, I’m thinking of going jogging this weekend. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll take advantage of the cooler weather; they say you burn more body fat when it’s cold.’ Miranda squinted as she brushed mascara along her eyelashes.
‘So, you’ll be the one in the park wearing shorts and a singlet?’ asked Linda.
‘That’ll be me! Except ... maybe not the shorts. Might need a few months before I’ll be brave enough to expose my thighs, they’re nothing but dimply flab at the moment.’ She pulled a chiffon scarf with a swirling fuchsia pattern from her bag, and looped it around her neck.
‘You should come to my Pump class sometime. It’s a killer on the thighs.’ Linda pulled open the door. ‘See you tomorrow! Oh, and Miranda?’ She turned briefly. ‘May the force be with you.’
‘Oh, shush!’ Miranda flicked her hand and laughed, as Linda and her toned thighs walked out.
Yep, definitely going for that jog on Saturday.Miranda was determined to end up with thighs like Linda’s.I wonder if Trisha will want to come with me?She withdrew her phone from her bag and was about to call Trisha’s number, when she saw the screen already on a call.
What?
It was Abe.
She must have accidentally pressed the call button when she put her nametag in the bag! Inconveniently, being alphabetically blessed, Abe was the first contact in the list.
Damn, why didn’t I delete his number last night?
Her mouth hanging open in a mortified gape, she lifted the phone tentatively to her ear as though it might bite her. She was about to say a feeble, ‘Hello?’ when she chickened out, quickly pressing ‘end call’ with a shaky finger and putting the phone back in her bag. ‘Oh my God!’ She flung her hands to her warm, flushing face. ‘I wonder if he heard anything? Oh no! What if he heard ...everything?’ Miranda realised the phone must have been on the whole time she was in the toilet cubicle. The whole time! She spun around, and back again, not sure what to do.Should I call him back and apologise?Or pretend it never happened?Umm ... It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.
A beep sounded from within her bag. Miranda squinted at the screen in hope of lessening the impact.
Heard everything, sorry 2 disappoint u. Dont worry bout me, I know my Princess Leia is out there somewhere. BTW, I hope u find a man who likes ur thighs the way they are. Abe.
She didn’t know whether to cringe or laugh. Biting her lower lip, she texted:
