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Lana Hayaak
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I furiously swam laps in our rooftop pool. As water splashed, I inhaled the fumes of chlorine while observing the gray, yet moody sky.
I loved that the terrace was empty, because I could collect my thoughts in peace. I always tried to live in the present, but running into Aaron brought back certain memories.
FLASHBACK — 2009
Aaron and I were at a popular nightclub in Shanghai. While he spoke, I began to feel dizzy. I wanted to leave, but when I looked towards the nearest exit, I saw Cindy, Amy, and Gwen approaching. I froze because I was having an adverse reaction to the alcohol I drank.
Aaron grasped my arm and whispered into my ear, “Lana, are you okay?”
“I need to go to the ladies’ room.” I said to the group.
“Sure,” chimed Cindy and Gwen.
I took off and was grateful to find the restroom empty. I wanted to jump out of the window, so I climbed up on to the sink. While looking through the glass, I heard the door swing open.
“Lana, why are you on the counter?” Amy demanded.
“Thank god you’re here. I saw a rat run by,” I quickly lied.
“Gross,” she remarked while suspiciously scanning the area.
“I think it ran into that hole in the wall,” I said pointing to a crack in the corner.
In truth, I had never seen a rodent in China, except for a dead mouse at a market.
“Ah, okay, it’s gone, so let me help you down.”
Amy gave me her hand. She was a very tall, confident woman and I appreciated her gentle caring nature.
Once down, she smiled and said, “That guy you’re with is so hot.”
I laughed and said, “He’s not my type.”
“Not your type? Are you blind? What’s your type?”
“I like guys who live in their mom’s basement and never leave the house. Aaron spends way too much time outdoors.”
“Very funny.”
Nervously I babbled, “There’s this old Chinese saying: a smart woman sleeps with a stupid man.”
“Why would anyone say that?” Amy demanded. I’d forgotten she had a Master’s in East Asian Philosophy.
“I can’t remember who said it. Was it Confucius or possibly Sun Tzu?”
“Or maybe it was you?”
“Maybe,” I agreed sheepishly.
“You’re so endearing, Lana.”
“Thanks.”
“You should visit my family home near Beijing.”
“I would love that,” I responded enthusiastically.
With a stroke of her hand, Amy pulled out my hair tie, and said, “Lana, you’re so beautiful with your hair down. Why don’t you ever wear it this way?”
I got this question a lot and didn’t know what to say except, “It’s more comfortable to wear it up.”
“True, but I always see you watching women who wear their hair down.”
“You’re very observant,” I remarked nervously. Suddenly, I wanted to return to Aaron and the gang because this conversation made me uncomfortable.
When Amy and I finally returned, Cindy was whispering into Aaron’s ear, and Gwen was squeezing his muscles.
I stopped swimming and bobbed in the water for a few moments. I bounced toward the edge of the pool and clasped the cold, metal railing. As I slowly climbed up the ladder and emerged from the pool, I became overwhelmed with dizziness. I dismissed it as the reaction one has from low blood sugar and spending too much time in the water.
I shivered as a cool breeze blew through my hair and pierced the hollow of my chest. I felt unease sensing someone was watching.
I wrapped a towel around my wet body and carefully crept to the locker room to avoid slipping.
I opened my locker in the ladies’ room and found a note which read:
Natalia Canaan, we need to talk about your parents. Meet me at Crimson Tide, Thursday evening at 9:30 p.m.
I stared at the note with disdain. Except for high school classmates, people rarely called me Natalia. I legally changed my name when I turned eighteen. Even Curt didn’t know my birth name or family history.
Who left this note and how? Is it some kind of cruel joke?
I cautiously tiptoed out of the locker room and peeked around the corner. There was not a person in sight. I stood still, dripping wet, and felt similar feelings that I often experienced as a teenager. I was certain that I wasn’t alone and an intruder was lurking in the shadows. Or was I a paranoid?
I dressed quickly, went up to the health club attendees, and asked if they had seen anyone leave the message for me. The reception clerks’ faces remained stoic, but they shook their heads.
Someone must have seen the person who left this note, I thought as I returned to the changing room.
I contemplated calling security and asking them to look at the CCTV cameras, but it seemed like too much trouble. Also, there weren’t supposed to be any cameras in the women’s locker room.