365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  “You just had to do this to me, didn’t you?” I growled at Martin, the smile still stretching my lips. “Reminding me of my age isn’t too polite. Besides, did you have to involve everyone?”

  “Well, babe, it seems the truth is a hard pill to swallow. But, by way of apology, I’ve ordered your favorite drink.”

  The waiter appeared with four tall glasses and a bottle of Moët & Chandon Rosé in a bucket filled with ice.

  “Oh, I love it!” I squealed, jumping up and down and clapping my hands like a little girl.

  My glee wasn’t unnoticed by the waiter, who opened the bottle and filled our glasses. He then smiled at me widely and put the cooler and the nearly empty bottle on the table as he left.

  “Na zdrovye!” called Karolina in Polish, raising her glass. “May you find what you’re looking for, always have what you want, and fulfill all your dreams. Cheers!” We clinked glasses and drank the champagne.

  After midnight, the restaurant turned into a club. The colorful lighting drastically changed the atmosphere of the place. The elegant, classy white and sterile interior suddenly exploded with all kinds of gaudy colors. The white was all the more understandable now. With a bit of lighting, you easily could change the character of the room.

  I really had to go to the restroom now. This time, however, I decided to find it with some help. The waiter pointed me in the right direction. I elbowed my way through the crowd toward the ladies’ room, when I had that strange feeling of being watched again. I stopped and took a careful look around. On a pedestal, leaning over one of the wooden beams, stood the black-clothed man, pinning me with his icy stare again. He measured me with his eyes, his face showing no emotion. He looked like your typical Italian, though he might have been the least typical man I’d ever seen. His black hair cascaded down his forehead. His jaw was covered with a meticulously trimmed dark stubble. His lips were full and well defined. Perfectly suited to pleasure a woman, I thought. His stare was cold and piercing. It was the stare of a wild animal just waiting to pounce. Seeing him from that distance, I realized just how tall he was. He loomed over the women standing nearby. He must have been at least six three. I don’t know how much time passed with us just staring into each other’s eyes. It might have stopped for all I cared. My bewildered stupor was broken by a man who walked into me on his way somewhere. With all that staring I had grown rigid and numb at the same time, so I just wheeled around on one foot and toppled to the ground.

  “You okay?” the Man in Black asked, appearing suddenly at my side. “If not for the fact that I saw it wasn’t you who walked into him this time, I would have thought bumping into people was your way of picking up guys.”

  He grabbed me by the elbow and lifted me up effortlessly. He was so strong it seemed like I didn’t weigh a pound. This time I gathered my wits, and the alcohol made me braver.

  “I would have thought the problem is that you’re always in my way, pretending to be a wall or a crane,” I retorted, shooting him the coldest stare I could muster.

  He withdrew, but kept his eyes focused on me, looking me up and down, as if he couldn’t believe I was real.

  “You’ve been watching me the whole evening, haven’t you?” I asked fiercely. I might be paranoid sometimes, but when I have a hunch, it’s rarely wrong.

  The man smirked.

  “I watch the club,” he replied. “I supervise the staff, check on the guests, and look for women in need of a wall or a crane.”

  I found his response amusing and discomfiting in equal parts.

  “In that case, thank you for being my crane. Have a good night.” I sent him a provocative gaze and headed toward the restroom. When he stayed behind, I sighed with relief. At least this time I didn’t look like a complete idiot and had been able to speak like a normal person.

  “See you around, Laura,” I heard him say.

  I spun on my heel, but the Man in Black was nowhere to be seen anymore.

  How did he know my name? Had be been eavesdropping on us? No, he couldn’t have. I would have noticed him. Karolina grabbed me by the hand all of a sudden.

  “Come on, or you’ll never reach that ladies’ room and we’ll be stuck here forever.”

  When we finally returned to our table, there was another bottle of Moët waiting for us.

  “Well, well. I see we’re not skimping on the drinks today, darling,” I said with a laugh.

  “I thought you ordered it,” Martin replied, visibly surprised. “I already paid, and we wanted to leave.”

  I took a look around the club. I knew it wasn’t a mistake. The bottle arrived at that moment on purpose. He was still watching me.

  “It’s probably on the house. After your ‘Happy Birthday,’ they couldn’t leave us with nothing,” Karolina said. “But, since it’s already here, drink up!”

  I fidgeted on the sofa until the bottle was finished, wondering about who that man dressed in black had been. Why had he looked at me like that? How did he know my name?

  We spent the rest of the evening wandering around clubs, only returning to the hotel when the sun was rising.

  I woke with a terrible headache. Oh, right… Moët. I adore champagne, but the hangovers it causes are the worst. What normal person binges on champagne? With the last of the strength I could muster, I crawled out of bed and reached the bathroom. I rummaged through my toiletry bag and foundmy painkillers, taking three and returning straight to bed. When I came to a few hours later, Martin was gone, and I could hear the sounds of people lounging in and around the pool. I needed to get up and catch some sun. It was my vacation, after all. Energized with that thought, I took a quick shower, jumped into a bikini, and thirty minutes later was ready for sunbathing.

  Michał and Karolina were sprawled on chaise longues by the pool, sipping on ice-cold wine.

  “Here. It’s medicine,” Michał said, passing me a plastic cup. “I’m afraid plastic is all they’ve got. Regulations.”

  The wine was delicious. Cold and… wet. I downed the glass in one go.

  “Have you seen Martin? He wasn’t there when I woke up.”

  “He’s working in the lobby. The Internet was too bad in the room,” Karolina explained.

  Right—man’s best friend, the laptop. And work was Martin’s favorite lover. I lay down on the chaise and spent the rest of the day alone, with only the constantly smooching couple next to me. Once in a while, Michał would push away from Karolina and exclaim, “Look at those tits!” at passing women.

  “Want to grab some lunch?” he asked at one point. “I’ll go fetch Martin. That man can’t enjoy a proper vacation with that laptop of his.”

  He got up, put on a T-shirt, and headed to the lobby.

  “Sometimes I can’t stand him.” I turned to Karolina and she stared at me, eyes wide. “I’ll never be number one with him. You know, more important than work, friends, or hobbies. Sometimes I think he’s with me just because he’s got nothing better to do. It’s a bit like having a dog—you pet it when you want, play around a little bit, but when you’re bored you just shoo it away. It’s there for you, not the other way around, right? Martin spends more time chatting with his friends on Facebook than with me at home. Not to mention in bed.”

  Karolina rolled to the side and propped up on an elbow.

  “You know, Laura, relationships are like that sometimes. Passion just vanishes at some point.”

  “But after a year and a half? Not even that! Am I that ugly? Is something wrong with me? Is it wrong that I just want to have a good fuck once in a while?”

  Karolina jumped to her feet with a laugh and gestured to me to get up.

  “You need a drink. Overthinking it won’t change a thing. Just look around! It’s perfect and you’re beautiful and so thin! If not Martin, you’ll find someone else! Come on!”

  I threw on a light floral tunic, wrapped my beach scarf into a turban, put on my Ralph Lauren sunglasses, and followed Karolina to the bar in the lobby. My companion went to her room
for a while to leave her bag and ask Michał about those lunch plans. Our men weren’t downstairs. I went to the bar and waved at the bartender, asking for two glasses of cold Prosecco. That was just what I needed.

  “That’s it?” I heard a man’s voice behind me. “I thought your heart belongs to Moët?”

  I turned around and froze. There he was, standing right in front of me. Only he wasn’t the Man in Black anymore. He wore off-white linen pants and a bright shirt. It was the perfect counterpoint to his sun-kissed skin. He pulled his sunglasses lower down his nose and fixed me with that cold stare of his again. He called out to the bartender in Italian. As soon as the mysterious man arrived, the man behind the counter had pointedly ignored everyone else, standing at attention and waiting for my stalker’s order. Hidden behind my sunglasses, I felt especially courageous and gutsy today—furious and hungover.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re following me?” I asked, crossing my arms. He raised his right hand and slowly took my glasses off to see my eyes. It felt like he was taking away my shield. Suddenly I was out in the open.

  “It’s not a feeling,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes. “It’s not coincidence, either. Happy twenty-ninth birthday, Laura. May the coming year be the best in your life,” he whispered, and placed a delicate kiss on my cheek.

  I was so shocked that I just stood there, dumbfounded and mute. How did he know my age? And how the hell did he find me on the other end of town? The bartender’s voice shook me out of that train of thought. I turned his way. He was just setting a bottle of rose Moët and a small colorful cupcake with a single candle on the counter.

  “Goddamn it!” I spun to face the Man in Black, who had vanished in the meantime. Again.

  “Well, well,” Karolina said with a smile, approaching the bar. “We were supposed to have a glass of Prosecco and suddenly I find another bottle of champagne waiting for me.”

  I shrugged and scanned my surroundings nervously in search of the mysterious man, but he wasn’t there. I pulled out a credit card and offered it to the bartender. In mangled English he refused the payment, assuring me that the tab had already been paid. Karolina graced him with a charming smile, grabbed the cooler with the bottle and cups, and went straight back to the pool. I blew out the candle on the cupcake and followed her.

  I was pissed off, to say the least. But also disoriented and intrigued. There were dozens of different scenarios playing out in my head, suggesting different personalities for the mysterious man. The first thing that came to my mind was that he was some kind of pervert. But it didn’t entirely agree with the image of the breathtakingly handsome Italian—he was probably spending more time trying to avoid admirers than actively seeking them out. Judging by his shoes and expensive clothes, he was far from broke. And he had mentioned something about checking up on guests in that club. So my next theory was that he was the manager there. But that wouldn’t explain what he was doing at the hotel. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the nagging thoughts, and reached for a cup. What do I care? I thought, sipping the champagne. It must have been a coincidence after all.

  When we finished the bottle, our men arrived, looking happy.

  “So how about that lunch?” Martin asked with a satisfied grin.

  The champagne I had drunk, today and last evening, made me combative. I was furious about his carefree attitude.

  “What the fuck, Martin?” I snapped. “It’s my birthday and you vanish for hours and don’t even care what I’m doing or how I’m feeling and now you just show up and simply ask about lunch? Enough of this! It’s always about you. I always do what you want, and you always tell me what to do. I’m never the most important thing in your life. And lunchtime was hours ago!”

  I wrapped my tunic more tightly around me, grabbed my bag, and stormed off to the lobby. I crossed the hall and found myself on the street. My eyes were watering. I put my glasses on and started walking.

  The streets of Giardini were lovely. There were trees speckled with flowers growing all along the pavement. The buildings were well cared for and beautiful. Sadly, my state of mind didn’t allow me to really take in the charm of the place. I felt so alone. I realized I was crying. Tears flowing freely down my cheeks, racked with sobs, I nearly ran. Was I running away from something?

  The sun was slowly setting, but still I walked. When the first wave of anger abated, I became aware of just how much my feet hurt. My wedge-heeled flip-flops, despite being a work of art, were no shoes for long walks. I noticed a small café in one of the nooks and crannies of the town. It was the perfect place to catch my breath, and I found out one of the items on the menu was sparkling wine. I sat down outside, watching the serene surface of the sea. An old woman brought me a glass of wine and said something in Italian, gently stroking my hand. Jesus, I didn’t even have to understand the words to know what she was talking about—that all men were bastards unworthy of our tears. I sat at the table and stared out at the sea until it grew dark. I wouldn’t have been able to get up after how much I had to drink, but meanwhile I had ordered a quattro formaggi pizza that had turned out to be a better salve for my sadness than the wine. Then I had tiramisu and it was one of the best I had in my entire life. Better than the best champagne.

  I felt ready to return and face what I had left by running away. Calmly and slowly, I headed back to the hotel. The winding streets were nearly deserted—they were too far from the main boulevard running along the coast. Two black SUVs passed me by. I had seen cars like those before, back at the airport.

  The night was hot, I was drunk, my birthday was ending, and everything felt wrong. I turned when the walkway ended and realized I had no idea where I was. Shit. Me and my sense of direction. I looked around, but the only thing I could see were the lights of approaching cars.

  CHAPTER 2

  When I opened my eyes, it was night. I looked around and realized I still had no idea where I was. I was lying in an enormous bed in a room faintly lit only by the streetlamps outside. My head hurt and I needed to puke. What the hell happened? Where was I? I tried getting up but didn’t have the strength. I felt like I weighed a ton. Even my head was too heavy to lift from the pillow. I closed my eyes and fell back into unconsciousness.

  When I came to again, it was still dark. How long had I been asleep? Maybe it was the next night? There was no clock anywhere, and I didn’t have my bag or my phone with me. This time I managed to push myself up and sit on the edge of the bed. For a while, I waited for my head to stop spinning. There was a night lamp by the bed. When its light filled the room, I saw it was part of an old house. I didn’t know this place.

  The window frames were gigantic and richly carved. Opposite the great wooden bed there was an enormous stone fireplace, the kind I’d only ever seen in movies. There were old wooden beams running across the ceiling. They matched the color of the window frames. The room was comfortable, classy, and very Italian. I walked toward the window and went out to the balcony overlooking a garden. The view was breathtaking.

  “So good to see you awake.”

  I froze, hearing the words. My heart must have skipped a beat. I turned around and saw a young Italian. I knew he was a local by the accent with which he had spoken to me in English. His appearance only reinforced my assumption. He wasn’t tall, just like 70 percent of Italians I had seen. He had long, dark hair that flowed freely over his shoulders, delicate facial features, and very large lips. A beautiful boy, you might say. He wore an immaculate elegant suit, but it did nothing to make him look any more adult. He evidently worked out. His shoulders were wide.

  “Where am I? Why am I here?” I barked, stomping toward the man.

  “Why don’t you go and refresh yourself? I’ll be back for you and you’ll learn everything,” he said, and walked out, shutting the door behind him. He had left me, while it was me who was scared witless by this whole situation.

  I tried prying the door open, but it was no use. The man must have used a key to lock me in. I swo
re under my breath. I was completely helpless.

  There was another door by the fireplace. I opened it and turned the light on, revealing a spectacular bathroom. There was a gigantic bathtub in the middle, a dressing table in the corner, right next to a sink with a tall mirror. In the opposite corner there was a shower that could probably fit an entire football team. It had no shower caddy or walls—only a large glass panel and a floor made out of minuscule mosaic tiles. The bathroom was probably as large as Martin’s entire apartment. Martin… he must be worried sick. Or maybe not? Maybe he’s happy he got me out of his hair. I felt another pang of anger, this time laced with fear caused by the situation I had gotten myself into.

  I walked up to the mirror and gazed at myself. I looked good, incredibly good in fact. My skin was tanned brown and I appeared well rested. The bags I had under my eyes lately had vanished. I was still dressed in the black tunic and the bikini I had been wearing on my birthday, when I had run from the hotel. How was I supposed to refresh myself without my stuff? I dropped my clothes and took a shower, grabbing a fluffy white bathrobe from the hanger. Here you go—refreshed!

  As I walked around the room where I had woken up, looking for any clues as to my whereabouts, the door opened. The young Italian was there again. With a wide gesture, he showed me out. We walked down a long corridor decorated with flowerpots. The house was engulfed in darkness, illuminated only by the streetlamps outside, shining through the numerous windows. We weaved our way through a labyrinth of corridors until the man stopped by a door and opened it. He shut it behind me, staying outside. This room must have been a library—the walls were lined with bookshelves and paintings in heavy, dark frames. There was another beautiful stone fireplace in the middle, with a fire burning brightly within. Around it stood soft dark-green sofas stacked with dozens of pillows in various shades of gold. There was a small table next to one of them, with a champagne cooler perched on top. I shuddered. Alcohol was the last thing I needed right now.