Perfect Skin by Nick Earls Read Free Book Online

bit competitive when I see someone ahead of me.
    Sure. I pass people sometimes. I know what you mean.
    I bet you do.
    Of course, some of them get a bit pissed off and take a swipe at me with their walking frames, but . . .
    She laughs, puts her foot up on her fence and does a hamstring stretch. She stretches with such ease that she’s probably one of those people who never really needs to. She takes her foot in both hands and leans forward till her head touches her knee. Which means I don’t stretch today, since I’m not one of those people. It’d be a mistake to mention walking frames and then struggle my way to my best quarter-hamstring stretch in front of her. But I’ve never been flexible. In fact, I’m better than I used to be. I’ve tested myself, and I’ve gone from ‘poor’ to ‘below average’ with all my work over the last few months. But I think that’s still something to keep to myself.
    She stretches the other side and says,
Where were you yesterday? Did you run?
    No. It didn’t work out yesterday.
    And her teeth aren’t quite as neat as I’d imagined in the film-clip version of her, but her hair’s the same. Dark, naturally dark, black or close to it, straight and quite short, but irregularly short. Pushed back from the sweat on her forehead, and it’s her shiny, sweaty forehead that’s glistening in the sun, rather than a glossed-up lower lip catching studio lights. And she’s breathing normally, while my breathing’s still catching up from the run. She’s swapping her weight from one foot to another as she’s standing there, as if she isn’t finished, her lean and restless runner’s body maybe ready for another lap.
    Do you know if there’s any running group around here, or anything?
    Yeah, there are plenty, I think.
    But you’re not into that?
    Not really. I spend a lot of time with people, so I tend to run by myself. Actually, that’s not really it. I’ve only been doing it for a few months. Everyone I know’s gone to lard, so it’s really just about making sure I don’t. It’s pretty casual. Non-competitive.
    Groups don’t have to he competitive. I usually run with people. It’s not bad.
    So where are they?
    No, before. I’ve just transferred here. To do honours.
    Well, I’m not sure I’m a group runner. I don’t think I’ve got enough event-related clothes to wear. Plus, you’ve seen me. I look so not like a runner that on two occasions buses have actually stopped for me.
    You’re kidding,
she says, and laughs, clearly not sure if I’m kidding.
    Well, one stopped. The other just hung around at the bus stop a bit longer than usual. But I waved him away. I wasn’t going to stand for shit like that.
    At work, the Window Weasel says:
    Hey Bud! We’re having fun aren’t we?? So go click YES!! I LOVE MY WEASEL!! and you can register to use Window Weasel for life for only $30! Click LATER to register later.
    I click LATER, send the weasel off and decide I don’t like much of the false bonhomie people program intoautomated messages. The weasel is a minor irritant. It is not my ‘bud’.
    There’s another email from Katie.
    Re coffee – another weak spot for the wok, by the way (and if you make it in a wok at your place, I don’t want to know) – my best breaks tend to be middle of the day, so how about lunch? Which I assume is at least semi-regular for you, too. So suggest a day, if feasible.
    And Monday would be feasible, since I start work after lunch on Mondays, so I suggest it.
    Today at lunchtime I go to Coles again. I’ve got nappies to buy. And, yes, disposables, even though I have cloth nappies at home. I’m very over them now. My baby book tells me to expect four thousand nappy changes before the Bean can get better organised sphincter-wise, and I have a serious attraction to convenience.