Do you think that my chosen attire was an innocent happenstance? No, I saw myself in the changing room mirror when I bought it and later through the lens of the camera. It’s cut deep and it draws the eyes like a siren’s call.
Yeah, I know.
Do you think I’m oblivious to the fact that nearly every time I’m there, so are you? Or him? Or even him? Watching over me from your perch with jovial chatter, under the pretense that you need to make sure I’m doing it correctly. But that’s not the real reason.
No, I know better.
Do you think that I’m concentrating on counting or my form when I go silent for a few moments and look off slightly to your left, staring at nothing in the distance? I can see in my periphery that you’re watching me – not my form, no, your eyes and mind are elsewhere.
I pretend I don’t, but I do know.
You try to be professional, and do your job properly, helping others around me. But I see your gaze that you think you hide so well. I saw you watching me from that dimly lit room while working on someone else, as I laid on my stomach propped up by my elbows. Really now, the amount of cleavage that is bared from that position?
I know what you can see.
Did you think you were being sneaky? Waiting until dusk was fading to dark until you took those boxes to the dumpster and had him hold open the fire door that is right next to the pool? You knew that you’d see if he opened the door more to look for you, so on your way back you took your time and you stopped at the window that is 3 feet from me and looks over the pool. Did you think that it was so bright inside and so dark outside that I wouldn’t see you standing and watching? You forgot that your pants were light-colored and so….
I knew. And I played it for that brief minute.
And I enjoyed it when you two entered the room again, chatting over-eagerly with each other and including me in it. Too much laughter, a little too loud, trying too hard. To distract from the fact that your hands were in the pockets of your khakis, slyly trying to shift things around down there. It was too little too late. I’m not that oblivious, I’m not that dumb.
Yes, I know. I know that you’re limited for now. I know what you’re staring at and when. I know now that the four of you vie for dibs on sitting with the pool patient under the pretense of “it’s a nice and relaxing rest” or so you told the other workers. One of them innocently spilled the beans, she didn’t know; she didn’t get it. You don’t do it with every pool patient; I’ve seen when others are there and you’re not in the room with them by pretense of help.
I know. And my knowledge is my power.