Falling in Love in New York

by HILL, MELISSA

  And from then on in, the slots didn’t get a look in. For the next two days, we went from hotel to hotel, trying our luck at the roulette tables in the different casinos and marvelling at how each place seemed even bigger and even more extravagant than the last. At the MGM Grand, real live LIONS watched us from their huge glass-fronted habitat area right on the casino floor (a bit cruel I thought, especially amidst all those flashing lights) but they seemed to really enjoy the attention and it all looked pretty spectacular nonetheless.

  At New York, New York we took a ride through ‘downtown Manhattan’ on the hotel’s huge roller coaster before blowing another couple of hundred in the casino. I lost particularly badly in both places and was convinced that my luck lay only in the Luxor and for a while, flatly refused to gamble anywhere else.

  But it’s so difficult to restrict yourself to one place in Vegas, particularly when there’s so much to see and do, and so I eventually allowed myself to be dragged along the Strip to see some of the other hotels’ attractions, such as the Paris hotel’s Eiffel Tower (a half-sized replica of the real thing) Siegfred and Roy’s Secret Garden at the Mirage, a strange oasis in the middle of the desert filled with lush, tropical plants. We also took in a trip to the observatory deck of the twenty-storey Stratosphere Tower, where we got a magnificent view of the Strip at dusk.

  Then, on the last night,( having gambled almost every penny we had and enjoyed every second of it, I think I lost a over grand in total – yikes!) we went for a walk along the Strip to take in some of the hotel’s evening attractions.

  At the Mirage, scores of people including ourselves gathered outside on the street and waited for the hotel’s famous Volcano to erupt. After a few moments of foreboding silence, cascading water began to churn and a low rumble emerged from the heart of the volcano. Then, and to the crowd’s delight, an eruption kicked into high gear as bright orange flames dramatically leapt about a hundred feet above the water, illuminating the night sky. Again, tacky, but brilliant!

  But for me, the highlight of our trip to Vegas (apart from my brilliant first-night never-to-be-repeated winning streak!) was the fountain display at the Bellaggio hotel. On that final night, we took our places amongst the hordes of people gathered in front of the quarter-mile-long lake in front of the gorgeous Italian-themed hotel. And as the first bars of Sinatra’s ‘Fly me to the Moon’ began, time seemed to stand still as the fountains came to life, and shot high into the air in time to the music.

  Some of the movement was continuous as the fountains responded to the notes and passages of music, while other water jets pulsed high into the night sky, drawing gasps of awe and delight from us all.

  “Wow,” Erin said, meeting my gaze. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

  It was truly stunning and will surely be one of the highlights of my quest for unforgettable experiences. I know this is one I will really treasure and once again I’ve got the photographs (and a video clip) to ensure I’ll remember it forever.

  So next up is a visit to the Grand Canyon. I really, really, can’t wait for this. It should be absolutely amazing, and I really think that if my brain can allow fantastic memories like these to just fade away and die, then there really is no hope for me at all! But I really hope this will not be the case.

  Watch this space …

  Chapter 22

  Abby returned from the California trip brimming with enthusiasm, adrenalin, and pages upon pages of diary entries. She was really getting into the swing of things now and while in the beginning in her diary entries, she’d tended to try and break events down the minimum (and end up diluting the experience), she was gradually learning to be less self-conscious. Now she pretty much wrote about things as they happened and more importantly, how she felt about them.

  She’d also taken tonnes of photographs throughout the trip, her and Erin in Vegas, the two of them at the Grand Canyon and in LA as well as lots of video, and had transferred all of the information into the memories programme Zach had created for her. Abby didn’t know what she’d have done without it. It was so easy to collect and store the information, and he’d set it up in such a way that all her diary recordings of a particular time or event could be saved electronically alongside the corresponding photographs and video-clips. It made it simple for Abby to administer and also went a long way towards ensuring that everything stayed fresh and vivid in her mind. Although she was delighted to report that she hadn’t had any memory blips or incidents lately, where merely went to show how well her plan was working and how, no matter what Hannah and the doctors believed, she really was fighting this injury.

  And while Erin, Caroline and Dermot were a hundred percent behind her in this regard, Abby knew she still hadn’t managed to convince her mother.

  Which was why she was less than enthusiastic about the next thing on her list; the trip to Verona with Teresa.

  Abby knew that her mum would be keeping a close eye on her throughout the trip constantly looking for signs of any problems. So in order to combat this, she decided from the outset to be on her best behaviour, and not give her mother any grounds for suspicion, otherwise her life wouldn’t be worth living!

  Although in fairness, Teresa seemed willing to get into the spirit of the occasion and on the flight to Italy had been relaxed and chatty, and to Abby’s great relief managed to stay away from talk or discussion about her ‘condition’.

  Of course, this particular jaunt wasn’t about providing a good time for Abby; it was much more about ensuring a good time for Teresa, and Caroline made sure to remind her of this when dropping them off at the airport.

  “Make sure Mum enjoys herself, won’t you? This trip is a big deal for her.”

  “Of course.” Abby wasn’t quite sure what Caroline meant by this, but supposed she was in a roundabout way asking her to go easy on Teresa and try and be more relaxed about her fusspot ways.

  Abby had confessed to her in London that she was finding her mother’s scepticism and lack of enthusiasm for her ‘project’ hard to take, so no doubt Caroline was hoping that it wouldn’t result in a tense situation all round. But Abby had no intention of letting such a thing happen. They were in Verona because Teresa had always wanted to see a real live opera performed, and despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly Abby’s cup of tea, she was going to make sure they both enjoyed their time here in any case.

  She’d known that Italy was famous the world over for its stunning architecture and cultural attractions, but nothing could have prepared her for the picture-postcard beauty of Verona.

  Second only to Rome in terms of well-preserved monuments and ruins, the place was steeped in history, from the immense Porta Borsari, an archway which once made up part of the original city wall, to the mind-blowingly picturesque Piazza d’el Herbe, one of the most charming and beautiful town squares Abby had ever seen.

  A busy tourist and bustling commercial area, the piazza was teeming with old Roman monuments and beautiful sculptures. The hotel that Caroline had booked for them was just a short walk away from the Piazza and when they’d settled themselves in the small and equally charming boutique hotel, they decided to wander around the Piazza and find somewhere nice for dinner.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous Abby?” Teresa seemed just as taken with the place as she was. “God, your Dad would have loved this.”

  Abby smiled. “I’m sure he would.”

  Who couldn’t love Verona? It was romantic, historic, not to mention that it was also the reputed setting for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. On the way in from the airport, their taxi driver, (who by his hair-raising carry-on must have been in training for Formula One) advised Teresa and Abby to pay a visit to Juliet’s balcony and the actual thirteenth century home of the Capuleti family which they agreed to do the following day.

  They had an unhurried and enjoyable dinner in one of the many trattoria dotted around the piazza (although it took them both a while to get to grips with the multitude of different courses that made up a proper Itali
an menu) and afterwards relaxed over the delicious lemon and bergamotto sorbets their waiter had recommended.

  Abby noticed her mother seemed quiet over the meal that evening and suspecting that Teresa was tired after the travelling, she suggested they head back to the hotel after dinner and delay their exploring until the following day.

  “Do you mind, love?” Teresa seemed relieved.

  “Not at all. An early night will do us both good–set us up for the big day tomorrow.”

  Although in truth, she’d love the opportunity to look around further, daylight was fading and she knew her mother wouldn’t be comfortable with her wandering around a strange place on her own. Still, there would be lots of time to see everything tomorrow before the performance later in the evening.

  Back at the hotel, again she noticed how tired and uncommunicative her mother was.

  “Are you feeling OK, Mum?” she asked, getting into bed.

  “I’m grand love, a bit tired, but excited about tomorrow.”

  Abby nodded. “I have to admit that now that I’ve seen the place, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  “Well, I know it’s probably not really your thing, but seeing as I had a spare ticket, I thought it might be nice for you all the same. I’m sorry I couldn’t think of anything more exciting.”

  Now Abby felt terrible. “Don’t be silly, of course this is exciting! I’ve never been in Italy before and,” she added with a grin, “we’ve never been away anywhere on our own before either, have we? No, it’ll be great,” she assured Teresa. “And I think we should make the most of our few days here by starting early tomorrow.”

  “We will,” her mum said smiling. “Sleep well.”

  The following day, they went on a walking tour around the city and took a closer look at some of the ancient and remarkably preserved Roman buildings. Abby had never really had any great interest in history, in her schooldays she loathed it, but it was impossible to be in a place like this and not feel the weight of history bearing down upon you, nor the power and grandeur of the Roman Empire in its hey-dey.

  Wandering along the tree-lined Via Alfresco Oriani they eventually arrived at the main drag, a wide boulevard called Corso Porta Nova. From there they headed for Piazza Bra, which they’d been told was where the Arena was located.

  Entering the square beneath a magnificent double arch, Abby’s attention was immediately drawn to an immense roman amphitheatre right in the centre of the square.

  “That’s where we’re going tonight?” she gasped.

  “Yes, I thought you knew that,” Teresa replied.

  While she was of course aware that the opera performance they were going to attend would be held in some outdoor venue, she had absolutely no idea of the sheer scale and magnificence of the amphitheatre. For some reason she’d been expecting something small and quaint, rather along the lines of the indoor movie-theatres they had back home. So when coming across a place that looked like it had come straight off the set of Gladiator, she was completely blown away. The Arena was in a word massive, the third largest in Italy apparently, according to Teresa’s guide book, (the first being the Colosseum in Rome).

  “My God, can you imagine what it’ll be like tonight?” she said, moving towards the outer walls.

  But Teresa didn’t reply, and when Abby looked around, she saw her mother still standing there in the middle of the square, gazing at the magnificent structure as if lost in a world of her own.

  “Mum?” she prompted, concerned. Considering that this was supposedly something her mother had always wanted to do, she’d been strangely off-form since they arrived here.

  Teresa smiled tightly. “Your father would have loved this.”

  Abby frowned, realising that this was the second time her mother had said this.

  “I’m sure he would,” she replied puzzled and went to move off again, before all of a sudden a thought struck her.

  “Mum,” she said, her heart melting as she gently laid a hand on her mum’s arm. “Was this something that you and Dad … something you planned to do together?”

  Teresa nodded quickly, trying to hold back tears.

  “Oh Mum…” Now Abby understood why she’d been so quiet and uncommunicative lately. Putting an arm around her, she gently, let Teresa away from the crowds towards a quieter spot on the edge of the square.

  “We always said we’d go somewhere special on our fortieth, somewhere romantic. It was your Dad who suggested here, and the opera because he knew how much I loved it. We had it booked and everything when …” She looked away, biting back tears.

  Abby felt a huge lump in her throat. While she knew that her parents were due to celebrate their fortieth anniversary the same year that Jim died, she had actually forgotten this amidst all the grief and the suddenness of his death. But of course her mother wouldn’t have forgotten something like that, and trying to get through that day knowing that she and Jim should have been together in a place like this must have broken her poor mum’s heart.

  Knowing what she did now, Abby felt ashamed. To think that she had initially treated the invitation so casually, when this trip meant so much to her mother …

  And thinking back on it now, this must have been what Caroline was referring to at the airport, when she’d asked Abby to ensure her mother enjoyed herself. Her older sister had evidently known the significance of her gift to Teresa and apparently assumed Abby did too. Again, she was taken aback by how much she’d estranged herself from her family in the last few years, and how little she truly knew about them.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked her mother then.

  “Ah, I didn’t want you to feel obliged, or think that you had to hold my hand or anything,” Teresa said. “But instead of bringing one of my friends like Caroline suggested, it just didn’t seem right. If I was going to come here, I wanted someone I loved with me, someone who would understand.”

  “Well, I’m glad– no–” Abby corrected herself quickly, “I’m honoured you choose me and I’m really glad I’m here.”

  Teresa smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “So am I.”

  ***

  Later that evening, having toured around and seen the majority of Verona’s wonderful sights–including Juliet’s alleged balcony (as the story was supposedly fictional, there was some doubt about that)–she and Teresa donned their finest garb and made their way back to the Arena for the long-awaited performance of Verdi’s Aida.

  Inside, the amphitheatre pit was surrounded by forty-four tiers of steps which soared high above the stage area. It held up to twenty-five thousand spectators, most of whom were now taking their places on the stalls at ground level in the pit on numbered seats along the steps, or in Abby and Teresa’s case on the bare steps themselves. Abby was pleased they didn’t have to sit on seats, there was something about the steps that made the whole experience much more authentic and out of the ordinary. It was a wonderfully warm, balmy evening and the fading light, coupled with the beautifully lit ancient Arena and the air of excitement surrounding the performance to come, made for an electric atmosphere.

  Then, the first act was announced, and almost immediately the hum and activity died down and there was complete and utter silence. Waiting for the music to begin and when the orchestra finally began to play the very first note, Abby felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn’t believe she’d been so offhand about attending something like this originally–it was without a doubt, once-in-lifetime incredible.

  She smiled at Teresa who too was held rapt by the atmosphere and the sheer magic of the whole experience. And as the first act began in earnest the two sat back and settled in to enjoy the performance.

  By the end of the third act, Abby was an opera devotee. This was nothing, nothing like she’d even seen, heard or experienced! The way the performance was capable of arousing and enrapturing the audience was little short of astonishing. And although she didn’t understand a word of what was being sung, she could feel every ou
nce of emotion coming through the performer’s voice.

  At one stage, in the darkness, she looked across and saw tears running down her mother’s cheeks. She could understand why. This was hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck stuff, an intensely emotional experience, and as the singer’s incredible voice built to a stunning crescendo, Abby could feel the anguish in every note.

  Knowing that she was undoubtedly thinking of Jim and how he should have been here with her, she reached across and took her Mum’s hand in hers and squeezed it hard.

  It was hard to imagine your parents as a couple in love, with the same hopes and dreams of any other. But her Mum and Dad had been devoted to each other and now almost three years later her mother was still grieving heavily for the love of the man with whom she’d spent almost forty years of her life, and who she still loved with all her heart. It was heartbreaking but at the same time hugely touching, and Abby prayed that someday she would experience a love like that.

  Why had she been so sure after the break-up that nobody could understand and no-one would appreciate what she was going through, when having experienced similar, but much stronger heartbreak, her mother would understand only too well! Teresa had too lost the love of her life, although the love she’d shared with Abby’s father had been very different to what she’d had with Kieran.

  Now Abby knew well that it hadn’t been that way for her; knew that it had been nothing like it. Things had been completely one-sided in that relationship, with Abby deeply in love and blissfully unaware that the man of her dreams was just hanging around and waiting until he found someone more suitable. His rejection of her still hurt–hurt massively–and as much as she’d tried to convince herself before that he’d made a mistake and would eventually realise the error of his ways, she now finally realised that she didn’t want him to.

  Why had she always blamed herself for his leaving? She’d always felt that if she was that bit more glamorous, if she lost that bit more weight, made more of an effort in bed, tried to please him more, then maybe then he wouldn’t have left.