Enemies at First Sight

It was a moment in which David’s heart stopped. Not in a “Wow, this person is so pretty and perfect, my organ decided to nearly kill me.” It was closer to a “This person is the absolute worst and how the hell do I get rid of her before I throw up my heart.”

Claire Wilson. Middle name: Annoying. Her hair always had volume to it. Any more and the people around her wouldn’t be able to hear. The brown also had blonde streaks, as though her goal was to look like a racing car. Funny, because she was never the fastest at running, jogging, walking, or even thinking.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing here?” she said. “Please keep you and your scraggy beard away from me.” She exaggerated her disgust with a protruded tongue while holding out a hand to ward him away.

“Amusing,” said David. “Your jokes always miss their landing without an audience to clap and laugh at your every word.” He rubbed his cheek. This was supposed to a relaxing time, and that meant he was allowed to skip shaving. “How about you get away from my door and crawl to whatever shampoo store you wish to infest?”

“It seems you’ve entered a life of comedy, dear stupid David.” She kept her posture straight and sure. “This is my door. This is the key. And this is your embarrassment.”

She proved her point by unlocking the room and punctuated it with a winning, arrogant smirk.

David looked at the number on the panel. It matched his key. Pushing her aside–

“Hey!” she protested.

–he tried his own. The door opened. In the moment – possibly the only one they had ever managed to share the same wavelength on – they both broke into puzzlement.

“But my key is this room's key,” said Claire.

“There are clearly two.” David jingled his one. “How about you go down to the front desk and ask them to give you the key to your correct room, preferably in another hotel.”

“How about you go down there and ask them to escort you to the nearest airport. At least then Australia would be free of one of its creatures.”

“How about we both go down?” said David. “That way, nobody’s happy.”

“I’m not hauling my luggage back down the elevator.”

David tilted his head. One bag on wheels. Half full of clothes; half with cosmetics. “I don’t know why you’d think you’d have to bring it back down again.” He opened the door. “Let’s put our stuff in here and head to the front desk. Simple, right?”

“You’re a condescending asshole.”

“No, I’m just pragmatic. Now get your shit together, and let’s go.”

“Be prepared to apologize after they prove I’m right.”

“Yes, because you’ve always apologized for your mistakes.” David rolled his eyes. He took the stairs, while Claire took the elevator.

It was supposed to be a holiday. His holiday. The winter always tore at his skin, biting his mind and making his life miserable. Christmas time was something that happened to other people. David never put up a tree – he never received any gifts to sit under it. Everyone was always smiling at work. And he smiled, too. If he didn’t, his bosses would probably fire him for not participating in the festive cheer.

But the bright side came in the annual prize draw at the office. Participation wasn’t mandatory, but the management frowned at you until you took part. Participating also cost five simoleons (legal simoleons. Jack from accounting tried it with the illegal kind, and David hadn’t seen him since).

When he had won the raffle, he asked four times if the holiday was genuine, and then another four times if the expenses were truly all paid. Maybe it was pity. They had never rewarded anyone for their hard work, least of all him. Maybe it was an excuse to get rid of him. He hadn’t been the most pleasant person in the world lately. Maybe... the world wanted to give him a break for once.

But someone obviously didn’t get the memo. Claire stood next him, ringing the bell. No one was at the desk. She kept slamming her palm, ringing, ringing, ringing.

“Would you please stop that?” said David.

“Where the hell are they?” Claire held out her hands. She brushed an out-of-place hair back into line and rung the bell again.

“Is there something we can do for you?” A young lad dressed in red, no older than eighteen, spawned from what must have been a nap in the back room. He yawned and flattened his curly hair.

“You can offer better service,” Claire snapped. Her teeth clenched.

David poked her cheek. “You remember what happened in high school?” he reprimanded her. “The dentist bill was a rip off. We all agreed.”

Claire loosened her mouth. “I’m shocked you remember that. Extortion always finds me.”

David kept his snicker to himself.

“You need to fix our issue,” Claire told the clerk. “You’ve given us both the same key.”

“Actually, he’s given us two separate keys for the same door,” said David. “It wouldn't be possible for him to give one key to both of us when in different places.”

“Would you shut up?”

The clerk typed away on his computer. “What room number?” he asked.

“203,” they said in unison.

“Huh. That’s funny.”

“What’s funny?” said Claire. “It better be a funny and easily fixable mistake with compensation included.”

“Extortion follows you, does it?” said David.

Claire ignored him. There was no way she hadn’t heard, because her big ears always picked up the insults directed at her.

“The room is in both your names.” The clerk rotated the monitor to show them. “You see how it’s come up in red? That means it shouldn’t be like that.”

“Can you put her in another room?” said David.

“No,” Claire karate chopped the air, “put him and his questionable face in another room.”

“Whichever is fine,” said the clerk. “That will be four hundred dollars.”

“What?” they said in unison.

“That’s American dollars.”

“WHAT?!”

“Our prices come with an unbeatable service,” said the clerk. “You won’t find anywhere better than here.”

David despaired. His wallet wasn’t empty because there were several IOUs inside. He had discovered there were worse things than being empty. Oh, what a joy it would be to have money.

“Look,” said David, “I won this holiday in a raffle with all expenses paid. Surely if I moved room, that would carry over?”

“Nope,” said the dumb, lazy clerk. “Only room 203 is covered.”

“Wait, you won a raffle?” said Claire. “I also won this holiday in a raffle.”

“Then you’re both very lucky.” The clerk bowed. “Please enjoy your stay. If one of you wishes to change rooms for our reasonable prices, let us know.”

The wavelength of unity returned. The sense of wanting to punch the clerk was strong, but not as strong as their wish to avoid a scene and possible fines.

David flopped on the bed, his muscles broken and sore from a mentally exhausting day.

“Hey, that’s my bed,” said Claire. “Why don’t you find a rug you can wrap yourself in and sleep outside the door. You can let me know when room service comes.”

“You’re unbelievably callous.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like a pillow as well, dear silly David?”

“Why do you always strive to be the worst human being – and I use that term lightly – on the planet?”

“‘Why’? Do you really think you deserve any kindness from me?”

“Deserve it? After everything you’ve done, all your sniggering and mocking at school and college, I don’t think I want whatever fake kindness you can manage.”

“You’re accusing me of mistreating you? Really? Are you insane?”

“I won't lie, I think my sanity left when my mother did, which also happened to be when I met you. What a great day that was.”

Claire folded her arms. “You called me fat.”

David removed himself from the bed. “Only because you called me chubby.”

“Because you called me tubby.”

“Because you called me jumbo.”

Claire did that thing with her eyes. When she boiled with rage, her seething burst through a glare that could shatter the strongest of mirrors.

“You know what?” said David. “I’m going to head out and do what I came here for. Relaxing! We’ll deal with the bedding situation later.”

He slammed the door to a screeching hen. He needed to cool off. A drink, and somewhere where Claire wouldn’t go.

The pool.

The outside bar had light music playing. Something in the jazz collection. If it were louder, David would have complained, left, gone who-knows-where, and then regretted it. He always felt out of place. Even as a tourist, he was the one all hotels would want to turn away, the one who was always pulled aside at the airport for a random inspection. The world hated him, people hated him, and he wasn't fond of the world or people either.

As proof of the former, he heard Claire’s grating voice from across the pool. He turned, shocked she would come anywhere near the water, and watched her stupid movements. She always swiped her hair back and kept it floofy; she always covered her smile with her gapped fingers, and when laughing, she tended to close her eyes. It’s not like they were going to fall out.

She spoke with the best-looking man at the pool. Shirtless, muscular, and blue eyes – the opposite of someone else not far from them. David never relished taking his shirt off in public, not when his chest looked a duck had painted what it thought was a human torso, and his stomach appearing to have a bowling ball inside.

He took a long swig of his drink. Refreshed and calm, David was able to relax a little. That was until the splash and yelps disrupted the first and only chance at peace he had ever had.

“Why do you hate me, World?” he mumbled.

He turned to the noise. Claire was gone. A couple people were laughing around the shirtless man she had been talking to as they strode off. A couple others were watching the pool. And David saw the wobbly form of Claire sinking and clawing at the water.

“Lifeguard!” he screamed with both lungs and a possible hidden third lung.

The high chair by the pool was empty. A quick scan revealed him to be nowhere.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” David pulled off his shirt and threw his phone to the side.

“What’s all the yelling about?”

David wasn’t sure who spoke. “She can’t swim, you morons!” he yelled.

He didn’t wait any longer and dove in.

Claire was holding her mouth while trying to climb the smooth wall. Her form hunched as bubbles rose from her lips. She hadn’t noticed David, but when he wrapped an arm around her, she fell into his embrace and let him carry her to the surface.

They both took a breath. Claire coughed as David held her and the edge of the pool.

“Are you okay?” he said through breaths.

“Yeah,” she managed. “Yeah.” Her voice was weak, and she shivered.

“Can we get a towel, please?!” David yelled for some form of service.

Claire rested on a lawn chair under a parasol a safe distance away from the pool while being examined by someone dressed in white.

David was on the other side of the pool, asking the bartender who the lifeguard was. When the worker pointed to the shirtless man, a switch which had never seen a finger was flicked. David wasn’t belligerent, not physically. He yelled, he complained, and he knew he was always wrong. Whether this was right or not, for the first time, he didn’t know. But he smacked the lifeguard as hard as he could in the direct center of what was once a pretty face.

David handed Claire a cup of coffee from the bar.

“Oh, I don’t–” she started.

“I know. Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

He took a seat next to her. She was hunched over, hugging her knees, her hair wet and flat. Her eyes had lost the spark of mocking joviality, and she rested her chin on her knees, occasionally taking a sip of her drink.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” said David.

“What was all the noise?”

“I punched the lifeguard in the face.”

Claire didn’t seem surprised. “Have they called the police on you?”

“I don’t really care,” said David. “How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. Just shock,” she said. “Get this: the doctor was our mutual friend the clerk at the front desk. Must be short-staffed.”

“Tough economy. Must be why he’s bad at his job.”

“Probably.”

Silence kicked in. Claire rotated her head and let her hair hang.

“I’ve never seen you with flat hair before,” said David.

“Well, it’s a holiday. I can skip spending an hour every morning trying to get it perfect.”

“It looks nice.”

Claire pressed her fingers to her mouth. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous, but go on.”

“Forget the rug. You can sleep in the bathtub.” She closed her eyes and laughed.

David chuckled and leaned back on his lawn chair.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said, “dear heroic David.”