CLEANER II: Chapter Six - Part Nine

MELISSA

I shut off the cross trainer and climbed down, grabbing my towel to wipe my brow, and took a swig of my drink. I had pearls of sweat on my chest and back; on my arms; but I didn’t feel tired, despite the length of my workout. If anything I felt energised.

A slow clapping came from behind me and I turned to see Ambrus, my personal trainer, smiling; stepping forward from the mirrored wall where he’d been leaning. “You’ve done terrifically well Dahlia,” he said. “Outstanding.”

I grinned, feeling so pleased. “Do you think so?”

“Of course.” He came level. “Just look at you. Look at how far you’ve come since our first meeting. You were a little on the flabby side, you would have to agree, and although I could see the first glimmer of willpower shining, I could also see a woman who craved food in large quantities. Where is that woman now?”

I thought of the real Dahlia and smirked a little, then I said. “She’s long gone. Gone forever I hope.”

“I know it’s forever,” he said. “Come.”

We walked to the doors leading out onto the hotel poolside from the first rate exercise room and went out into the sunshine.

“You made it clear what your objectives were when we first spoke,” he said. He chuckled. “I asked you how much weight you wanted to lose. Do you remember what you said to me?”

I chuckled too. “All of it.”

“Exactly. And now look at you. You said you wanted to be slim. You’ve achieved that. You’re probably more athletic than most women in the world. You’ve done this over a substantially long period, making it more than likely that you’ve broken your old habits and you’ve built up the kind of metabolism that is really going to help you staying the shape you want to be.”

I didn’t know what to say. This was everything I had wanted. He might have been confirming things I had already seen with my own eyes, but hearing his congratulations and... approval meant the world to me. “I’m just so grateful for your help,” I said.

“No.” He shook his head. “No. It wasn’t me. It was you. I merely provided minimalist encouragement.”

I thought about the early morning jogs along the beach with him bellowing in my ear but decided not to say anything.

“But it’s clear to me that you don’t need me anymore,” he said.

“What? Really?” I didn’t like the idea of that.

“You’ve grown into a strong, slim, beautiful woman with a will of iron. All I am now is a crutch. You need to cast that crutch aside and walk forward as strong and assured as I know you are.”

“Well...” I thought about it. If all went to plan I would be leaving soon anyway. “Okay, I guess. But I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be around,” he said. “I have other clients here and at neighbouring hotels. In fact... I need to go. I’m meeting one shortly.”

“Oh. Okay. Right.” I extended my hand. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” He took my hand and shook it.

“And, uh, now that we aren’t working together anymore... What do you say to that dinner invitation of mine? I’d love to get to know you better.” I smiled seductively. “And I’d love to let you get a closer look at the body you helped create.”

He held my look for a moment and then released my hand with a smile, saying, “As I said before, I’m very flattered, but I will have to decline.”

I frowned. “But... Before you said it was because you were my trainer. There’s nothing stopping us anymore. We could have dinner tonight and then drinks afterwards, maybe a little dancing; then later on we could go up to my penthouse room and...” I gave a broad and suggestive smile. “... get up to foul play.”

He looked uncomfortable. Then he gave a brief smile. Then he looked uncomfortable again; almost pained. “I really must decline,” he said. “But I’m very grateful for the offer.”

“Why must you decline?” I asked, my temper rising a little. He’d always been very kind to me. He’d always laughed at my jokes and seemed to enjoy my company.

He squirmed. “Perhaps it is better if we do not discuss this further,” he said. He clearly wasn’t going to change his mind.

“No. Hang on,” I said. “I really want to know. Don’t you find me attractive?”

He held up his hands. “No. Please. You are a very beautiful woman now.”

“Now? Oh, is that it? Is it because I was fat before? You knew me as a tub of lard and now you couldn’t bear to be with me; is that it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then why not?” I demanded. “Why won’t you come to dinner? Or drinks? Why won’t you fuck me?”

He glanced round to see who was listening which made me even angrier and then blushed red. “Please Dahlia,” he said. “I’d really rather not say.”

“Tell me,” I said. “Please. Look, I’m sorry I got shitty with you. I’m really... I just want to know. Why won’t you... spend time with me now the training is done?”

His face darkened more. He was clearly going through some internal decision-making process. “Because...” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m... You aren’t...” He looked away and looked back at me. He lowered his head and then looked me in the eye. “The truth is, it is nothing to do with you being overweight before. I think you are very pretty now. I simply cannot be with a woman who is... not nice.”

I was disarmed. I said nothing at first. “What? Not... nice?”

“I’m sorry to say it,” he replied. “I would have preferred not to. But I have known you for a long time now. I have observed you in many situations; speaking to the staff here; flirting with all your men...”

My own cheeks coloured red.

“I cannot come to dinner with you, or... sleep with you... because I cannot do that with someone I... don’t like. I’m truly sorry.”

He gave a curt bow and withdrew.

I stood there staring after him, flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it.

But part of me... Part of me had known all along that this was the reason he had politely avoided my flirtations. Part of me knew, because part of me knew that no matter how much I made myself slim or come to look like Dahlia, I would never truly be her. I never could be. Because deep down I was cut from different cloth. I was too bitter. He was right. I hated other people more often than I didn’t. I hated almost everyone.

I straightened, wiping the corner of my eye, then put my sunglasses on so no one could see the moistness that was developing there.

How could I go back to England and pretend to be Dahlia? Pretend to be a charismatic, personable, kind woman? And she was kind. I knew that too deep down; no matter what I’d thought of her when I worked as her cleaner. That was the bitterness talking too. She was a good woman who cared about other people; someone innocent enough and trusting enough to believe someone like me was after her best interests.

The tear streams trickled away from my eyes and then silently started to thicken.

This whole plan was doomed. Why hadn’t I accepted it before? I could never pull it off. Anyone who knew the real Dahlia would see straight through me, and anyone who knew of her reputation would not believe someone of my character was a duplicate.

I put my head in my hands, sitting down, elbows resting on my bare knees.

It was over. Or as good as. There was no point taking it any further. It was time I accepted defeat and gave up.

At least I’d become slim – if I could keep it off. There was that. At least I’d had this long, free holiday.

The life theft wasn’t going to work. I should call Dahlia and tell her to forget about the surgery. All that would lead to would be exposure, public disgrace and shame.

I wasn’t a nice person. I shouldn’t have needed Ambrus to tell me that.

But...

I raised my head. I let my hands fall away. I looked out across the pool to the palm trees beyond. And my tears slowly stopped and then started to dry.

Because a crisis of conscience or determination didn’t suit me. Was I really going to throw this opportunity away because it might not work? Because I thought people might people might find out?

No. Fuck that.

Fuck that.

I would rather die than give up now.

I had nothing else waiting for me that was worth a damn. I had only a horrible life awaiting me.

This gambit was my only choice; my only chance. I knew I would rather die – literally die – than give it up.

I stood up. I folded my arms. I unfolded them and then looked toward the front of the hotel.

I was sick of waiting for Dahlia to think about it. I was sick of leaving her with the initiative. She didn’t have the motherfucking power anymore – I did – and I was going to use it.

This was going to come to a head... right now. No more waiting. One way or the other this day would see the conclusion of the conundrum. Were we going to do it? Were we going to swap our lives FOR REAL?

And I wasn’t going to leave it to chance.

Screw Ambrus if he didn’t want me! I didn’t want him, the swarthy bastard! I could get any man I wanted.

Almost any man.

I started walking toward the hotel doorway to go and get changed and order a taxi.

By the end of the day I would know, one way or another.

Either we would be planning our trip to Thailand or we would be packing to go back home. I didn’t know for sure which way it would go but I was sure as hell going to fight for what I wanted.