Cecilia
Dear Diary. I've decided we're not going to Butlins. Last time, the car journey there was a nightmare nine hours. And there was poo in the Butlins swimming pool toilets.
We'll go to Legoland instead, that'll be more fun.
I haven't been bouldering in a while and when I went tonight, I was surprised to see three women I knew there: Maria, Steffi, and a girl called Cecilia I'd played basketball with three months ago.
They were all climbing together. I couldn't remember the basketball girl's name so while they were busy climbing, I looked her up in my database. (I made a webpage so I can access my database from my phone.)
They saw me and came over. "Your name's Cecilia, right?" I said to basketball girl.
"Yeah, that's right," she said. She had long dark curly hair.
"And you're from the Basque country, right?" I said.
"Close, not the Basque country, but it's next to it. I'm from Navarra."
"And don't you play volleyball now?" I said.
"Well, I used to play it at school..."
"I remember when we first met, you said your rock climbing shoes were too tight and they hurt your feet?" I said.
"Wow!" she said, amazed. "You have a good memory!"
I smiled. She smiled. She seemed to think I cared about her. In reality, all I'd done was write down a bunch of stuff about her.
The bouldering centre closed at 10 pm. We were the last to leave. The sky was dark. I walked home with Cecilia and Maria; Steffi went home by car.
Cecilia pointed out a building and said, "I live there, on the top floor. I pay 270 euros a month for my room."
"What the actual fucking Christ," said. "That's so cheap."
She laughed. "The bills are all included too. Water, electricity, gas, and internet."
"No fucking way," I said. "My girlfriend and I pay 650 a month and that doesn't include bills. Plus we've only got a tiny balcony"
"My apartment's got two terraces," she said.
"Jesus Christ," I said.
I found out the three girls go climbing every Monday. Maybe I'll see them next week. Then again, maybe not. Who knows.
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