CLEANER II: Chapter Two - Part Five

THE ORIGINAL DAHLIA

I didn’t have a robe or anything and I didn’t think it would matter so I decided to walk down to the pool just in my swimsuit with a towel in hand.

When I left the room though, even though no one was around on the dim and narrow back corridor my room was, I felt instantly embarrassed. It was that gaze into the mirror that had done it, cementing my self-image in place.

That had been the first time since the haircut and name exchange that I had had real non-pressure time by myself examining the way I looked now and it had really drilled into me the visible differences.

This was exactly what I’d fantasised about – not being a gorgeous model anymore; just being an ordinary woman – but the reality of that was so unexpected. I hadn’t realised how fundamental that picture in my head had been of how I looked and how intrinsically joined it was to my sense of identity; or how jarring it would feel to step away from that identity. I was actually feeling a cloud of anxiety building high enough to make me want to go back inside my room; maybe even contact the new Dahlia and call all this off right away before it went far enough along that I actually had to live like this and be seen by other people.

But I got a hold of myself; figuratively grabbing my brain in two hands and giving it a shake. I could deal with anxiety. I’d had to in my life as a catwalk model. The way to do it was to recognise that yes, my lower brain was having an anxiety attack and then reflect with my higher brain what I wanted to do about that.

This was what I had wanted. I wasn’t going to wimp out at every little detail as it went on. I was committed now. See it through: that was what I was going to do.

I went downstairs. Even though this was generally a dive, there were clearly nicer sections of the hotel than I was staying in. I could almost have been angry at Melissa— ... Dahlia for booking me into the worst of the worst but she was just granting my wish. I giggled. She was kind of like my fairy godmother actually.

Reception was unmanned. I passed it and went out into the heat. The temperature was so high that the paving slabs burned my feet unless I crossed them very quickly.

The tiles beside the pool weren’t such potent conductors so were fine and I found a recliner and laid my towel on it. There were maybe a dozen people around the pool. As a newcomer, I could see them checking me out. In the past the reactions would have been striking and notable. Now the only way they were notable was by their minimalism. I’d expected people to smirk at my dowdy costume and more curvy figure but, I guessed, to them I wasn’t Dahlia the supermodel brought low, I was just one of a billion average women; not noteworthy in any way.

I felt slightly down about that until my higher brain reminded me of my purpose here and then I got a little shiver of pleasure to wallow in my normalcy. It was nice actually. Nobody was staring for the first time in my life. It was kind of great.

I decided to take a little dip and walked over to the edge of the pool but as I dipped my toe in the proprietor of the hotel, who had emerged from the front door, started getting agitated and hurrying across.

He was a harried little man and he seemed awfully flustered. I examined my environment, trying to figure out why and noticed belatedly that nobody else was in the pool. It must have been restricted at certain times for cleaning for something.

I smiled and started to apologise when he came up to me but he cut me off quite rudely.

“Not allowed,” he said. He pointed to the pool and to the sun lounger where my towel lay. “Not here. You aren’t allowed here.”

“What do you mean?”

The other tourists were watching our exchange with interest.

“This swimming pool is for guests,” he said.

“But I’m—”

“You are staff. Staff are not allowed in pool.”

I frowned, confused. “Wait, what?”

“You are staff,” he said, becoming more and more agitated. “Staff are not allowed out here; only guests of hotel.”

“But I’m a—”

And then the penny dropped.

I remembered the smirk on the new Dahlia’s face as her taxi drove away and it hit me why my room had been so awful; why my corridor was narrow and grim at the back of the hotel.

The hotel manager was still yabbering on but I was noticing the people staring at me now; seeing how I was treated; seeing how I wasn’t allowed to enjoy the facilities that they could because... because I was only a member of staff. I was beneath them. My cheeks coloured darkly.

The manager gestured for me to come and I hurriedly picked up my towel as he herded me back toward the hotel, still repeating over and over that I wasn’t allowed to use the pool. He pressed me to the back of the hotel near the kitchens and there pushed back a door onto a small cluttered yard with a wire fence and a small wooden bench. There were cigarette butts littering the floor and noisy machinery units blaring away. There was nothing nice to look at, only the side of an old decrepit van with graffiti down its side.

“Here,” said the manager. “If you want to relax, you can come out here. Not at front of hotel. Not in pool.”

I looked forlornly about at this awful little courtyard feeling lonely, embarrassed and beaten down by his verbal attack.

The new Dahlia must had organised this position for me – I had no idea how without an interview – and now I was stuck with it. It was almost funny but I was still too shocked and shaken to be anything but forlorn.

Then I realised there was still something crucial I didn’t know and so I turned to the man and said, “What job? What job am I supposed to be doing?”

But of course I knew already. Of course I knew.

He looked back at with a face like thunder and said, “Cleaner.”