One More Year: The Romantic Path of Ana Lee (The Path Less Taken Series Book 1)

by SJ Cavaletti

  “So ‘think Nani’ is your Carpe Diem?”

  “Exactly. We all should be so lucky to discover the truth of our mortality as young as I did. It made me very brave in life,” he said.

  “Strange luck,” I said, finding it hard to really put Carlos’ mighty lesson hand in hand with the death of Nani. It was such a heart-breaking catastrophe.

  “Anyway,” said Carlos, “Let’s talk about something new. I can see in your eyes this subject disturbs you and I only have another hour or two to enjoy you. I don’t want you disappearing into the depths of your mind. We can talk about Nani some other time if you wish.”

  We stuffed the topic in an envelope and sealed it with a kiss. At that moment, the waiter came over to take our drinks orders and Carlos told him to tell the chef to send out the best 6 dishes of the day.

  The waiter walked off; I could see he hadn’t gotten such a request before but that he would be doing his best to execute.

  “No troublesome staring at the menu. Like I said, I don’t want to waste any time,” he said.

  “Six dishes? You feeling hungry?”

  “Ah, yes, sorry we started talking about things and right,… Simon is actually coming. With a date. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it might be nice for one of my friends to get to know you and vice versa,” he said.

  Indeed. Working out into the concentric rings of life with Carlos was taking another step in the relationship. Being introduced as the girlfriend solidified things and overall made me feel special, wanted and important. But Simon. Simon, the guy who already knew I was a stripper. The guy who saw me and Carlos walk into the Champagne Room within minutes of meeting and who saw us walk out moments later. My head buzzed less with thoughts of taking the next step in our relationship and more about what stigma I might possibly face from Simon, let alone his date. I knew how women could be.

  My palms started to grow clammy and I shifted in my seat. Carlos had put his arm around me and had already started talking about something else but it was as if my ears were full of peanut butter. The feeling of the sound penetrated my body like a bass drum but the actual words were just muddled vibrations. All I could think about was the fact that the first person in Carlos’ life that I would ever know as his partner already knew I was a dancer. It was an open secret that now felt like a healing wound whose scab had come off too early.

  Carlos’ voice echoed around me, “Wah, wah, waaaah…”

  Time started to work in slow motion. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was an anxiety attack but I suddenly thought I ought to head to the bathroom and splash my face. But it was too late. My eyes that had been focused off in the distance suddenly came upon Simon, who turned the corner into the restaurant. He smiled and waved. And so did she. His date. A woman I already knew, one that I could trust not to judge me for being a stripper. It was Angel.

  An involuntary gasp surged into my chest and Carlos felt my body go rigid. He looked at Simon and Angel and waved and then turned to me and asked, “Are you ok?”

  Snap out of it, Ana… snap out of it.

  “Yes, of course… I just remembered that I was supposed to meet my girlfriend for coffee today. No prob, just one of those ‘oops’ moments. She’ll understand…”

  He squeezed me as the guys approached the table. He stood up and Simon came over swiftly to shake his hand. I stood up as well and we all embraced quite formally with kisses and handshakes and all sorts of fine pleasantries.

  Carlos gestured to some of the remaining chairs and Angel and Simon sat down.

  Simon scooted his chair and tucked himself away under the table.

  He said to me, “I believe you already know Paloma?”

  Paloma. Her name was Paloma.

  “Yes, of course I’ve seen you around but we’ve never been properly introduced,” I said, “I’m Ana.”

  She screwed up her face. She had expected my ‘real’ name to be revealed and she said so.

  “Yes, I know you as Ana… do you not have another name to go by?” she asked.

  For fuck’s sake. Awkward. I didn’t want to explain my cute, cheeky story about why I use my real name. I didn’t even want her to know that Ana was my real name. She had screwed so many friends of mine over. She was such a piece of trash… it was demoralizing to be associated with her.

  “No, that’s the only one I use,” I said as politely as possible though I cringed inside that we had to already talk about the elephant in the room. Couldn’t we just have had a well-bred ladies lunch?

  There was no point in me ruining the date with a bad attitude. I had a couple of hours with Carlos. I only had one chance, in this moment, to show him I could be socially graceful. He had no clue what this girl was made of and now was not the time for the big reveal.

  Carlos, the emblematic gentlemen, tried to unify the group by pointing out our shared aims.

  He said, “Who would have thought that on the same night, in the same place, that two old guys like us could have found true love?”

  Holy shit this was getting worse. True love? Angel, er, Paloma and Simon? When I just saw her ass fucking in the Champagne Room last night? If that was true love I was happy to forgo. She was clearly using him for money. And I felt an obligation to protect Carlos’ friend. But then again, she probably thought I was doing the same. Saying anything too soon was a Catch 22. I had to let time play out and play nice.

  The picture of etiquette and decorum, I enquired about their meeting and how they had come to know each other after that evening in the Club.

  Simon went red. It was clear that sex had something to do with it but he was too square to say so out loud. And I was relieved, too, by his modesty as Carlos and I had yet to crack out a home run and I wasn’t really sure if he felt like a calculating winner or sore loser?

  Simon’s face blanched again and he told me that they had been really into each other and that although it was against the rules as he understood it, they met up straight away after the Club and that the rest was ‘history.’ He then looked at her and smiled and she smiled back with a dim mannequin’s smile. He did not notice and he took her hand and squeezed it.

  The rest of the lunch was actually fine. Paloma hardly spoke. My guess is somewhere in the region of thirty to fifty words came out of her mouth the whole time. She spoke through body language. And although I would have far preferred to have been alone with Carlos, Simon was actually a very nice person. He was genuinely interested in getting to know me and asked a lot of questions, engaged with me and overall let me know just how much Carlos cared for me.

  “I remember when Carlos told me the next day that he was having Abby call you to set up a date,” said Simon, “He just said to me ‘Simon, she’s the one. She’s THE one.’ Now I can see what he sees. I’m happy it’s working out.”

  His comments were like zipping up your coat on a cold day. All the drafts, the biting cold disappear and you somehow feel ready to face the bitter elements. Which I did almost immediately.

  “So, you haven’t met Liss yet then? And the kids?” he asked.

  Carlos shook his head and so did I.

  “Ah,” he continued, “You’ll love her. Nicest gal ever. Makes the best ropa vieja… that’s a shredded beef kind of thing. She’s lovely.”

  He spoke about Felicity as if it was Carlos’ sister. Like it was no big deal. It reminded me of the time when I had stood on the edge of the 3 meter diving board and everyone else had long jumped off fearlessly. I had tried really hard not to shiver in my swimsuit, not to let the goosebumps envelope me like a plucked, anxious chicken. I had been the only one who was afraid to jump. Just like now. Afraid to jump into Carlos’ life and take the leap of faith.

  I looked over at Paloma to see if she caught on to any of the nuances being presented in the conversation. She did not seem to. In fact, she did even seem interested, like a foreign exchange student sitting at the host family’s table for the first evening. Like she didn’t even speak English and had long since sto
pped trying to keep up with the chatter. Maybe she didn’t really speak much English for all I knew.

  What really struck me about Paloma was not her silence but the fact that she never seemed to smile. She didn’t look grumpy per se, more statuesque and incapable. Like her face was made of stone and but living eyes had been set in the sculpture. It was curious but just as well. I had NO interest in hearing from her or getting to know her. For all I was concerned, this was a chance for me to integrate into Carlos’ friendships and she would be long gone soon. I just hoped that when Simon got burned her flame it did not lick Carlos, too.

  We wrapped up the lunch and Carlos apologized as Gus would have to take me home. And did I mind if he also took Paloma home as well as he and Simon would get a separate car together to a meeting in Silicon Valley. Of course I minded. But I didn’t say so.

  The car journey home was fortunately short because the viscous air grew thick and toxic, as if we were trapped in an airtight box. When I could hardly stand it anymore I tried to breathe life into the space.

  I said, “Simon seems nice.”

  Paloma looked at me and made deliberate eye contact. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, the type where the pupil was indistinguishable from the iris. It made me realize just how much our brains can read into the dilation and contraction of the pupil; her face was indecipherable.

  I held her gaze as if I was waiting for her to say something even though I had known she wouldn’t. Eventually she nodded her head as if to agree with me then turned to look out the window. In truth it suited me not to be friendly with her but her silence created a mystery. As if the lack of information was a clue itself to some question I had not yet asked.

  It wasn’t long before we arrived in front of my flat. Gus got out of the car to open the door for me and as I got out of the car Paloma finally spoke.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said.

  As if I needed reminding.

  Charming

  The following twenty-four hours Carlos and I were inseparable, in a twenty-first century kind of way. We texted, we called, we Facetimed. He told me that Simon had found me very charming.

  He said, “Much as I expected, Simon thinks you are fantastic. Smart, interesting and charming are the words he used.”

  “Charming?”

  “Yes… and I couldn’t agree more,” he replied.

  “Well,” I said, “It’s been about fifteen years since someone has called me charming.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he replied.

  “Believe it,” I continued, “I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was at a father-daughter dance. I wore a dress that my father had chosen from nearly a dozen that had been brought home from the mall by Sarah, our nanny, for inspection. My father had great taste… I loved the dress. It sparkled and bustled out like a fluffy pink petticoat but I still felt mature, not like a doll. I had always been in a hurry to grow up. The gymnasium at my school had been decorated with pink streamers and girlie balloons… lace tablecloths. It was as if the Barbie Dream House was throwing a shindig.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve been to a couple of those father daughter dances… very pink,” Carlos chuckled.

  “Indeed. So imagine that place but instead of a doting Dad like I bet you were, my father had spent most of the time chatting with other dads. I had noticed they would only give him a few minutes and then turn back to their daughters, you know, because that was kind of the point… it wasn’t a networking event after all. But instead of turning back to me when they’d leave, my Dad would put out his hand for me to hold as he walked around looking for the next adult. Just when I thought it would go on like that all night, Somewhere Over the Rainbow came on. It was a simple version, a man’s soft, angelic voice and a ukulele. My Dad had been making a beeline for Mr. So and So but then he stopped in his tracks.

  “Oh, I love this song,” he said and then led me to the dance floor.

  He did not ask. He commanded. All of a sudden there I was shifting back and forth, trying not to step on my Dad’s toes.

  The ethereal lyrics whispered in the background: And the dreams that you dream of, dreams really do come true… or something like that.

  My father looked at me in the face, it is one of the only memories I have of making true eye contact with him. He said to me, “Ana, you look very beautiful tonight.”

  My little eyes widened. I can still feel my eyebrows lifting and an innocent smile coming across my face just thinking about it.

  Then he said, “You are very pretty but also very intelligent. A charming combination.”

  Charming. That was the first and only time til now.”

  “Ah, well, a woman should hear the best things from their father’s mouths first,” said Carlos.

  “Well, he didn’t stop there. This is my father after all so it wasn’t exactly meant to be a compliment. He continued and said, ‘Don’t end up like your Mother. Use your brain and not your beauty to achieve things in life. At least if you do that you can ensure what you get is permanent. Good looks fade but your brain only gets better with time.’

  After that evening I found that version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow on YouTube. It was a very large, Hawaiian man called Israel Kamakawiwo’ole , I’m sure I’m saying that wrong. Anyway, his delicate, chilled out voice was just filled with mana.”

  “Mana, that’s a Hawaiian word meaning spirit.”

  “Yes, that’s how I understand it anyway. I’m pretty sure this guy Israel was so portly because he possessed so much Mana that his body swelled. That aside, I used this song to lift me up many times in my life; to remind me that at some point in the space time continuum my Dad had thought I was special… and now you’ve got me thinking about it again. Sorry, I suppose charming is supposed to have a romantic connotation but for me, it’s just, I dunno… something that unintelligent people use to get their way.”

  Carlos bellowed with laughter on the other side of the cell. I had to actually pull the device away from my ear.

  “Oh, Ana, my lovely, lovely lady… I am pretty sure this is one of the first times you are sorely mistaken. Charm requires intelligence. Maybe not Pythagorean or Euclidean intelligence but smarts just the same. Don’t underestimate people. And don’t underestimate the power of emotional intelligence. We actually have a saying at my company amongst the Execs. We say that IQ gets you hired but EQ gets you promoted.”

  “Hm. Yes, well, you don’t really have to work hard to convince me of that. It’s probably the most powerful money making tool in my line of work, too.”

  Oh dear. That just came out. Yuck. I felt yucky now. Yes. I’m a stripper… back to the elephant in the room. There was a pause on the line. Did he feel awkward now, too, or was I imagining things?

  “Ana,” he said, breaking the ice, “Would you come and meet my family?”

  I hadn’t expected that to come out next. All I could do was think about the elephant.

  “Carlos… have you already spoken with Felicity about me?”

  “Yes, of course. She knows my every move really. I don’t like to lie to her about where I am or what I’m doing because dishonesty isn’t good for our friendship. If you’re worried, Ana, that there are still any feelings or that Felicity will be jealous I can assure you…”

  “No, no,” I interrupted, “It’s not that. It’s that, well, I’m wondering if she knows I’m a… stripper.”

  “Ah,” he said and then I could only hear him breathing.

  It was the deliberate and powerful breath of Genghis Khan on the throne. Thoughtful, meaningful, omnipotent. It scared me a bit. I wished that we could have been together in person for this conversation. Finally, he decreed, “Yes I have… and now I’m thinking how complicated that might be for you. I mean, perhaps this is something that you had hoped to keep a secret?”

  “Well, I hadn’t really been able to conclude what to do with the information,” I said, “I mean, I guess, yeah, I would have wanted to keep it to ourselves. But now t
here’s Simon and Felicity and then… oh gosh, will your children know?”

  I cringed inside. What I felt was so complicated. I didn’t sense any feelings of shame inside me for being a stripper but at the same time didn’t want anyone in Carlos’ family to know. But then again I didn’t want to lie… analysis paralysis.

  “I am not going to outright tell my children, Ana. Of course not… not now anyway. But with Felicity… there is no reason to lie to her. And, sweetie, there is no reason to lie to anyone. It’s good to challenge the status quo. It’s good for people to stretch their comfort zones and grow that perimeter of security. What I mean to say is that of course Felicity found it a bit, shall we say…sketchy? But by lying to her she might never see that even a stripper can be intelligent, funny, deep and charming.”

  His words released a lot of my tension.

  “Yes, I see your point. But really, I had never set out to be the face of stripper equality. I’m not really the ‘march on Washington ‘ type.”

  He laughed, “So, would you like to come to dinner one evening at the house? It’ll be fine. And if it isn’t then, well, I’ll have to consider keeping you on an island somewhere as my best kept secret.”

  How could I have refused?

  Roll Me to the Bank

  The next day I had to work. It was starting to feel like I was the poorest rich girl in town. My boyfriend was a bazillionaire but I had just used credit cards to take out a cash advance to cover part of my rent. Having calculated the interest versus the loss to taking out from my pension pot, it was the only way. In any other normal circumstance of having a few bad nights at the Club I would have just taken on a few extra shifts. But Carlos was always available on the best days to make some extra dosh… Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays… He would come into town for a few hours, a dinner or a meeting at his flat and then be off.

  The culture of romance that these teasing and taunting experiences promoted was addictive, one that I could not say ‘no’ to. But one day soon I would have to. I would have to buckle down and tell Carlos that I had a job and that as much as it probably seemed like strippers just harvest dollars from out of nowhere my money tree was barren. Why hadn’t I told Carlos this simple and completely acceptable fact yet? Why did I put myself into the financial red zone? Because I knew. I knew that the day I told him that I had no cash he would offer to give me some. I worried that the minute those words came out of his mouth our whimsical and innocent feelings for each other might die a little.