All You Want for the Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

5. Perrin

Chapter 5

Perrin

T he villa’s pool is just another reason why I love this place so much.

On the Sunlit Creative Space website, the pool is described as ‘ a picturesque outdoor luxury fitted with large limestone tiles. The perfect way to enjoy a dip in the water away from the beach ’.

It is exactly as written and more. The water reflects beautifully in the sunlight no matter which way you look at it. It feels so good to have the liquid flowing past and across my skin, saving me from the dryness of the sun above. I’ve never had this much space in a pool before and even then it’s way too big for a full group of four.

A perimeter of eucalyptus trees outline the pool and lounge area, with a wooden fence behind them to separate the backyard from the rest of the land. Christmas lights are threaded through the tree branches, but left off in the day—perhaps the decorations are the doing of Thalia.

This is a mini paradise for anyone, not just an artist.

I leave a glass of water nearby and sip from it whenever I want, never needing to worry about anyone kicking it over or telling me off for leaving it there. There’s a niche comfort in that thought.

After a few laps of the pool, I float on my back like a starfish. The sun is too bright to keep my eyes open so I only peek out every so often to keep note of my surroundings. My limbs release tension as if the water is flowing through me. May the water take with it my worries , I think to myself like a mantra.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when I hear splashing from the other end of the pool. The splashing gets closer and I open my eyes to Inari standing over me with a skewer of watermelon and mango chunks. I dip under water to get back on my feet before emerging and excitedly grabbing the skewer in two hands.

“Having fun there?” they ask with a prideful glint in their eyes.

I nod in quick succession and answer in between bites. “This pool is incredible. I never imagined being in a pool without, you know, the general public.”

They smile in response and leave their finished skewer at the edge of the pool before they hold both arms out and fall backwards into a float. They sigh as the water embraces them.

The last time I saw Inari in a pool was at our year twelve swimming carnival. Every year, Inari would sit at the edge and dip their feet, but not get in. I’d always try to splash them, maybe to make an excuse for them to get in. They’d yell at me for that, and also if I started swimming away when they wanted me to stay and chat.

So it’s a little strange to see them enjoying the water to its fullest right now, even if it doesn’t look like it to anyone else. Inari is like a screensaver logo bouncing from side to side, just missing the corners, so you have to keep watching.

I’ve known them for so long yet I realise there’s a lot I would’ve missed in these last few years. Did Inari learn how to swim? What has changed about their interests? What qualities does Inari look for in friends now, that they didn’t before? How many stories has Inari written in this time? Does Inari have a partner now?

Oh, but that wasn’t my business.

“What are you thinking?” they ask from the other side of the pool. They’re looking straight up with their eyes closed so I can safely hide my surprise of their unexpected question behind my hands.

“Nothing—” And before they can say anything else, I take a dive under the water.

I mean, it had to be normal to wonder if my old friend had a partner, right? It would be nice, even, if they did. The guilt of rejecting them was far hidden in my mind but came out hard and fast on lonely days at uni. It was hard to make friends, and it would've been nice to have Inari there. If only I didn’t mess things up. I didn’t blame them for leaving when I treated their feelings so flippantly.

I come back up for a deep breath of air and Inari standing there with their arms crossed over their chest. Could they read my mind or something?

“Yes…?” I crouch down until the water is up to my mouth and I can blow bubbles on the water’s surface with a breath.

Their brow twitches up. “We’re doing a shoot, aren’t we? Let me know what you want me to do.”

“Oh!” Right! We were here for work too, not just fun. “Thank you so much for volunteering to do this.” Being a model at a moment’s notice was a difficult task.

They shrug and give me a smile. “Consider it a slightly early Christmas present.”

I swim to the pool’s edge closest to the back door and find my camera in its bag next to a spare towel and a clear, plastic box with no lid. I dry my hands thoroughly before cautiously unzipping the camera bag and taking the camera out. “Well… I don’t wanna get out of the water just yet, so we’ll use the box first.” At the shallow end, I can keep my camera around my neck and if I want underwater photos, using the box at the deep end is the way to go.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” They look down at their swimming binder and shorts, pinching at each of them.

I already know the answer is yes because a photo shoot like this is more about silhouette than the details of the person’s outfit, but I still take that moment to look them up and down. That tank-top style binder hugs their form tenderly and nicely emphasises their arms and freckled shoulders. The hem of the binder doesn’t quite reach down to the waistband of their swimming shorts, allowing a sliver of their skin to show.

“Perrin?”

My breath hitches as I look up. I didn’t mean to stare— I only just realised that I’d never seen Inari dress like this before. They were always either in uniform or, on rare out-of-school occasions, in baggy clothing that buried them.

They turn away and lower their hands to their side. “It’s fine, right?”

“Yep— yes, all fine!” I squeak and then tuck one side of the open box under my arm as I switch the camera on. It chimes and the lens extends out.

It’s strange to take pictures when the studio is a pool of water and I’m using the box method. The box has more freedom to be in the water, and allows a pocket of air to place my camera within. The bad part is that I can’t see the picture I’m taking by eye until it’s already taken. I just have to trust my intentional yet untested placement and hope I don’t shake the box too much as I hold it up.

I instruct Inari to take a dip under the water, to do their best to reach towards the tiled floor with a hand and their head leading their body, as if they have just taken a dive, without the work of completing a dive.

At first they’re a little clumsy, flailing under the water as their body resists the downwards movement. We laugh and I give them a little advice based on what I noticed, and then get serious. Inari practises a few more times and I take pictures for every attempt, just in case one comes out nicely.

The determination on their features to get this right for me warms my chest and I follow their movements with my eyes, whispering encouraging words despite their lack of modelling experience, let alone water modelling experience.

We explore a few more ideas while I can be bothered to carry the plastic box around. A half in-water, half above-water composition as Inari floats on their back, one as Inari treads through the water in an imitation of walking on land—for something a bit more “surreal”, another as Inari holds their arms out like they’re spreading wings, the image taken from angles side-on, behind, and in front. We do one where they’re crouched in the water but the camera only sees their upper body. The water is far enough up that they can tilt their head forward and have their cheek touch the water. It reminds me of the painting ‘The Fatigue’ by Mihail Zablodski.

Then the box is discarded to the side, its purpose fulfilled. I climb out of the pool and dry off, then tie my sarong around my hip. The camera returns to its rightful place, in my hands, held up to my eyes.

I tell Inari to swim, and they swim. I tell Inari to dance, and they dance. They follow my instructions with ease and, not long after, with precision. My direction goes back and forth, looking between reality and the gallery that sits in my palms. My mind races between worlds. It skips to the last idea when we’re already posing for the next shot, or even hop scotches to previous ideas and melds one with another. Inari listens to every word and doesn’t protest, only eager to help.

This is nice, this is what friends do. This is what the residency is all about. Something about their energy, even in their quiet moments that have them concentrating on their movements more than their thoughts, and even when they’re loudly making fun of me for my suggestions because I know they are hesitant to try them, makes me want to keep going.

Through the lens, I trace their edges, the way their binder sculpts their chest, the softness of their arms and legs, the mess of their hair falling into the lines of their back. I tell myself it’s for the composition. I tell them to stretch their arms up, or lean to the side, or arch their back. All this work has left me breathless so I know it’s time to stop soon.

When I’ve run out of ideas and my arms are sore, I lower myself on the edge of the pool and take a seat, dangling my legs but not getting in. I flick through my pictures. The sun has travelled from the sky above us towards the western horizon. The obvious indicator is the lighting differences between the first photo I took, bright all around, and the latest one, shadier than before.

I look up as I hear Inari approaching me, the splashing water making them hard to miss. I bring the camera to my chest, seeing water droplets flying up along their path. Their movements are slower than before, tiredness pulling their weight on them, yet they keep their gaze on me, taking one step at a time.

They get closer and closer. In the absence of my voice, my heart pounds in my ears. Then they stop before my knees. I can feel the lycra material of their binder against my bare shins.

"Did the photos come out well?" they ask, their eyes flickering down to my camera then back to me. With nowhere else to rest them, they place their hands on my knees.

Keeping my gaze level with them has me forgetting what my appraisal of the photo shoot was. Every picture has flown away from the front of my mind when there’s a picture right here in front of me, yet to be taken.

They smile and lean forward. The scent of chlorine, vanilla and sandalwood lingers between us. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Hey!” I give their shoulder a light shove with one hand, keeping a tight hold on my camera with the other. “I have plenty of pictures of you right now,” I say, as if I hadn’t thought about taking one right then.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me but my skin is buzzing where Inari is pressed against me and where their palms sit. It feels like being in a tiny room, being unable to move or breathe, no matter how much open air we actually have.

I focus on my words enough to continue. “I’m not sure how they turned out yet, since I want to work on them at the computer—” A vague, vague answer because I’m not convinced I executed my vision right. I won’t know until I’m printing the photos out and sorting them.

But to discredit Inari’s efforts would be unkind, so I add, “Your part in them makes them all the more perfect, though.” And give them a reassuring smile.

It surprises me a little when their cheeks turn deep red, half hidden by the sun casting over the left side of their face, leaving the other side to shadow. I tilt my head and close the gap just a bit to get a better look.

I remember how they flushed so often when we were younger. They told me it ran in their family to have such red cheeks. Their skin is a little tanner now, golden undertones rising beneath their skin, yet the red is still just as prominent.

I sit back and Inari is staring at me wide-eyed. They exhale slowly and then look down, taking a step back and bringing their hands behind their back. “Perrin… you know you shouldn’t do things like that,” they whisper.

“Like what?” I frown. Had I done something wrong?

They quickly wave their hand, like waving away what they had just said, and then look up at me with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll love the pictures.”

Moving around me, they grasp the edge of the pool and hoist themself up. Before they go, they crouch down and place a hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s have a barbecue tonight. I’ll set it up and cook the meat. You can do the veggies?”

I turn to them and give them a nod, still wondering what they had meant just then.

“Perfect,” they say, and head back inside, grabbing their towel along the way.

Now that they were gone, so was their warmth.

As we make dinner, and for the rest of the night, I wonder what this strange feeling near my heart means.