Seema closed the door behind her and leant back against the cool, well-aged wood. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes as she rested her head against the door, the city sounds now a distant and soft thrum.
"That was a long hard day." she said to the cream coloured walls of her ground floor flat.
She dropped her bag on the floor, placed her laptop case on the table next to the telephone and shuffled over to her plush leather sofa. She flopped down, kicked her shoes off and shrugged out of her suit jacket, letting out a long and contented sigh. The new rug she had bought on a whim last weekend felt sublime under her bare feet as she curled her toes up in the deep pile. She closed her eyes, knowing that it was a mistake. Her breathing slowed and her body began to relax into the soft cushions of her sofa.
"Ooo, no. Come on, wake up girl." She sat up quickly and reached for the TV remote from the smoked glass coffee table; another knee-jerk purchase. She idly flicked the TV on and selected her favourite channel. "I can watch what I like now!" she reminded herself.
Having the flat to herself had some distinct advantages. She could watch whatever TV she fancied. She could spend as long as she liked in the shower, or even better, in the bath. She could cook the meals she liked, when she liked, clearing the dishes next morning, if she wanted. She could spend the day in her pyjamas, or wrapped up in the bathrobe Simran had bought her, if she liked. She could walk around the flat completely naked if she wanted to. Yes, distinct advantages. The main advantage was not having to pander to her ex-boyfriend. The womanising bastard, she thought.
The disadvantage was the odd period of loneliness.
Even though six months had passed since she had found out about his clandestine meetings with a blonde he knew from work, it still hurt Seema. She considered herself lucky though. In Simran, she had a very good and very caring friend. She remembered in vivid detail the tearful phone call she had made to Simran after she had found out about her boyfriend's escapades with his 'bit on the side'.
Simran had taken Seema under her wing, and had been there for her ever since. Like a big sister, though she was in fact a few years younger than Seema's 25 years.
Seema looked across at the shoe rack near the front door. There, just to the side, were Simran's fluffy white slippers. She spent so much time there that Seema had bought her a special pair of slippers that she could leave there permanently. Seema smiled and sighed. She wasn't lonely often.
Ironically, Simran's relationship with her boyfriend had disintegrated just a month after Seema's, under circumstances much worse. And then, Seema had been there for Simran.
Seema looked at her big blue led clock on the wall next to the door to her kitchen.
"Damn! Better get ready."
She lifted herself off the sofa, clicked the TV off and slipped out of her shirt as she padded barefoot over the polished wooden floor to her bedroom. Once in her bedroom, she slipped her skirt off and pulled her hair-ties out, shaking her dark shoulder-length hair and rough-combing it with her slender fingers.
She turned to look in the mirror and regarded herself slowly, looking at her legs, her tummy and her breasts, cupped in a black lacy bra. As she reached around to unclip her bra she twisted around, giving herself a better view of her bottom in the mirror.
"Not bad," she nodded, giving herself a positive appraisal. "It's all looking a bit flatter. Good!"
She unhooked her bra and slipped the thin straps off her shoulders. She looked at her bare breasts in the mirror and pursed her lips. "Hmmm. They're still a bit big. Exercise isn't going to get them any smaller." She chuckled.
She had made a pact with Simran. They would join a gym and get themselves looking as good as possible, ready for the men they would find themselves. Though, she suspected that Simran was being her usual kind and supportive self, for Simran already had a fantastic figure.
"Not fair!" chuckled Seema. She looked herself over in the mirror once more, and realised that she was in fact looking pretty good herself. Seema had never been over-weight, but in the fall-out of her failed relationship her self-image had suffered, in part due to the fast food and alcoholic beverages consumed for comfort. She shook her head and smiled bitterly.
She fetched her gym gear, swimming costume and towel from the bottom drawer of her rustic pine wardrobe, quickly donning the sports bra, tight top, and tight, black calf-length leggings. As she pulled her white sports socks on and slipped her feet into her new trainers, something caught her eye. Resting against the side of the drawer, half buried beneath socks, stockings and knickers, was a picture. She knelt down, picked it up and looked at it, knowing full-well what it was. It was the photo of her ex, a photo that she wanted to scrunch up every time she looked at it, or better still, burn it. But, she could never quite bring herself to do it.
She thought of Simran, kind and lovely Simran. As usual, she felt a surge of warmth flowing through her body, a calming tonic that always soothed her. She looked again at her ex-boyfriend in the picture, taken on their first holiday together. He was all smiles, posing for the camera. In the background of the picture, Seema could just make out the apartment they had stayed in, framed by perfectly clear blue sky.
"Bastard!"
Seema was well past the crying stage now, but she felt her confused emotions welling up. She threw the photo back in the drawer and stood upright.
She glanced at her clock radio on the bedside table. Simran would be picking her up any moment. She bathed in the warmth pulsing over her body on thinking of her friend, and walked through to the kitchen to take a long drink of water. All day, Seema had been looking forward to spending time with Simran; a few games of squash, a swim and back to the flat for a naughty, fat-laden take-out and some girlie TV. And hopefully some gossip, thrown in for good measure. Work really had dragged for Seema. She wondered if Simran looked forward as much to their girlie evenings.
As Simran would probably stop the night on account of a few too many glasses of wine, Seema had prepared the futon in the spare room. This had become routine for a Friday, which Seema didn't mind at all. "She may as well move in!" Seema chuckled as she crouched to tie her laces.
It had in fact crossed her mind for the two of them to share the flat. For a while, maybe. They got on well, never argued, shared many interests and had a similar taste in music and film; like a couple. Seema sighed and flicked a frustrated glance up to the ceiling, shaking her head at the ease with which that thought entered her mind.
It would halve the rent, she continued to reason; not that she needed to worry about rent as her job paid well. Seema often wondered what stopped her from proposing a flat-share. She was getting closer to being able to answer that question. 'Why do you want her to move in?' she kept asking herself.
"Stop it!" Seema said aloud, shaking her head again and rubbing her forehead.
There was a knock on the door. Seema ceased her reverie and exhaled quickly, clearing her thoughts.
"That'll be Sim!" Seema jumped up, grabbed her keys and sports bag, and skipped to the door. The city air wafted in to Seema's flat as she opened the door. It was indeed Simran. Seema felt a glow inside.
"Hi!" Simran beamed. A warm and wide smile lit Simran's face, her naturally wavy hair perfectly framing her sharp, pretty features; eyes that twinkled, high cheek bones, a delicate nose over a mouth with delicate lips. Simran held her arms out for a hug. Seema felt like she would melt.
