“Ta-da!” Rick jumped in front of Tabitha. “You can open your eyes now; it’s time to go inside.”
“Where are we?” Tabitha demanded, stepping into the villa which automatically doubled in size once inside. It was then she realized that they had to be in some swish suburb like Bel Air or Beverly Hills. Normal houses didn’t have fountains nor did they have televisions suspended from the ceiling.
“It’s our new home, silly. See this is your kitchen,” he said, rushing to the far left corner. “Our kitchen, I mean. Down that corridor are the separate ‘his and her’ offices, outside is the swimming pool. Serena said you really love swimming. Take a look around and see if it’s been designed to your taste. I got an interior decorator from Home and Garden to do it for you. You’ve got nothing against earthy colors I gathered from your place.”
Tabitha nodded, still too shocked for words. The place looked amazing, a perfect balance between eclectic cultural object d'art and urban sophistication. It was like someone had clicked a picture of her fantasy home, stored up till now only in her head, and set about making it a reality.
“But…what do you mean it’s my place? I don’t live here; I’ve never even been here.”
“I know that; I hope though that you’re comfortable with the choices I’ve made. If anything I just want you to feel at home.”
At home? None of this was making sense.
“Do you mean to say you expect me to live here? With you?” Tabitha stared at Rick who was only quite happy to stare back.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing really, apart from the fact that up until now I half-hated your guts. Oh and let’s not forget that my whole life is based in San Francisco.”
“You don’t have to move right away,” Rick insisted. “You can take your time, a week, a month, even a year if you need it. Either way, the house and I aren’t going anywhere.”
Tabitha tried to take this all in. The house, she had to admit, was to die for and it certainly was catered to her need. Not many other women would appreciate a bear’s head hanging over the fireplace or that didgeridoo on display in the corner. It was as though it had Tabitha’s name written all over it.
“Maybe I should take a look around the rest of the house,” she said, as if this might have some impact on her decision. More time to make Rick suffer a bit too.
But the more she walked, the more Tabitha fell in love with everything. The walk-in closet, the “his/her” basins in all three bathrooms, the mini gymnasium in the pool house…. How could she even begin to pretend this wasn’t the place she was born to live in?
“You really bought this all for me?” she exclaimed, no longer able to keep her excitement in. Tabitha rushed to Rick and flung her arms around his neck, as if he were Santa Claus.
“Does it look like a house a bachelor would ordinarily live in?”
“No, no it doesn’t. So you’re serious, about me coming to live here? This isn’t some cruel trick you’re playing on me?”
Rick laughed.
“It’s nice to see you enthusiastic for a change. And the answer is yes, I’m serious and no, it’s not a cruel joke. Does that mean you are willing to take me up on my offer? ”
“Mmm…let me consider it once again.”
Tabitha scanned beyond the backyard fence, which was now illuminated by lights to see if there were any camels and desert sand in the horizon. Nup, there weren’t any which meant she could offload her “this is just an oasis” fear. She pinched her arm and was pleased to see another red lesion coming to surface, which left only one thing to mull over… Rick: the heartbreaker, the insensitive hound. Could Tabitha live with the fact that in all probability he would eventually act like a dickhead again? Could she deal with the dizzy spells that surfaced whenever the word commitment and marriage came up in conversation –and they would most likely come up way more often when a couple lived together?
“I think so,” she said, burying her head into the nook of his neck. After all there was the creamy velvet couch she could always retire to, the treadmill on which she could release all her pent-up angry energy…In the worst case scenario, Tabitha and Rick would surely be able to fall back on the mutual love that naturally grows between friends over time.
Yes that was it; she would fall back on love if she had to.
Chapter 36
Now Serena would like to say when the three month break was up, she jumped up and down with joy and then went on to live happily ever after with Markie. But this was real life and not some fairy tale.
The truth was when Markie lugged his suitcases back through the front door her heart did leap a tiny bound. It was nothing lofty enough to qualify for national level high jumps (to the contrary, her spine would surely have sent the pole crashing to the ground). But it was a start. A sign that Serena did still have a seedling of feeling for Markie buried deep inside, and given time she could unearth it, replant and water it until it blossomed into a strong impressive creature called love.
Care for another truth while she was doing the confessing, frank thing?
Serena never, ever expected to undergo such a grueling, eye-opener of a transformation during their break. Remember, three months ago she was just a girl who visited a fortune teller. And n case you don’t already know - people who visit mystics, they are wishful thinkers, eternal optimists, who believe and hope life will give them what they deserve. That’s all Serena was paying for that day, for the gold-hooped, shawl-wearing woman to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear.
But it didn’t turn out that way.
It was of course Jasper who screwed her up in the end. Who proved to her that the heart was indeed big enough to squeeze in one, two, maybe even three loves at a time. Now if they were living in some African polygamous village this probably wouldn’t be a problem. Serena could have her cake and eat it too, for breakfast, lunch and even at dinner if she wished. But such practices were frowned upon in San Francisco, damn they were frowned upon in most of western civilization. Hence, the only alternative: Serena needed to make a choice.
This was where her problem lay. Had Serena herself instigated a bit of eenie-meenie-minie-moe and landed on Jasper (boy’s scout, you’re out) then all would be well. But it hadn’t quite panned out that way. In reality Jasper was out of the competition not due to personal choice but his rejection of her. Even if Serena wanted him that option didn’t exist anymore.
So she resumed her happy life in the company of Markie. It was lovely, especially having someone to snuggle close to late at night. Not to mention massage your feet when you got home. They were taking it one step at a time, or should she rephrase that by saying Serena was taking it one step at a time. Markie looked like he needed no time at all to confirm that Serena was indeed his cherished little angel.
“I love you,” he would tell or message her a million times a day. “Really, I am so absolutely in love with you. With you I’m the happiest man in the world.”
Funny, she didn’t even need to do anything special to incite this sort of heartfelt display. Serena could be grumpy, PMS-ing, as tired as a bat and Markie would still embrace her with open arms. She wished she could say it was the same towards him. But sometimes it was a struggle.
“Oh well, what did I expect? I’m swamped with packing, making new contacts in LA, on top of working the twelve hours days….something has to give.” Serena sighed into the telephone.
“I thought you wrapped up last Saturday night?” said Tabitha, who was probably getting her feet massaged right now by her own knight in shining armor.
“Delays, of course. Cindy got a colony of pimples no foundation in the world could cover up.”
“So party on this Saturday night instead?”
“Fingers crossed. We’re booked for our flight next Tuesday afternoon, aren’t we?”
“Yes!” Tabitha burst. “I’m so excited. Can you believe it? Me, you, Markie and Rick in LA., living just around the corner from each other. I heard Mar
kie bought Johnny Depp’s old place. Is it true?”
“Sort of; it used to belong to some other guy from 21 Jump Street.”
“Oh that is so cool! You don’t sound nearly as excited as you should be though. Is everything okay; between you and Markie that is?”
“Sure.” Serena paused. Now was not the time to start talking about second doubts. “There’s just one thing I need to sort out before I leave for LA. You know, a girl has gotta tie up all her loose ends.”
“Well tie them in a hurry. You can’t go and begin a new life in a new city carrying some fancy burden from the past.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that Tabitha,” Serena sighed. She stopped at the hall mirror and stared at the alien reflection of a woman holding a cordless phone in hand. Was that her? It couldn’t be. The woman was way too old looking, with surplus wrinkles closing in on what used to be quite a sparkling set of eyes.
“You poor thing,” Serena sympathized with the woman in the mirror, while Tabitha tattled on about swimsuits. “I know where you’ve been, and I recognize the only possible cause for this. You too have been ravaged by the hands of an unrequited love.”
So proud of this astute insight, Serena reached over to pat the woman on the back. She was eager to comfort her but something stopped her in her tracks. Maybe it was how her fingers splayed across the glass, touching the sad, old woman’s hands, whose stretched fingers were reaching for her too.
Sometimes the person we recognized the least was the one staring right back at us in the mirror.
What Serena was about to do next would be considered by some to be either very smart or very foolish. Or did one sometimes need to do something foolish in order to be smart?
All Serena knew was that she had one unfinished task to complete and it was possibly best kept secret. For while Markie might be all open-minded and eager to distribute his love for her twenty four/seven, chances were he’d go on strike if the following came to light.
Fact is: no boyfriend EVER wants his girlfriend to contact an ex, especially one with whom she has unfinished business. Fact two: Worse yet is the ex he knows nothing about. Unless he never does find out…
It was a risk Serena was willing to take. Or should she say had to take. If she didn’t the alternative was that maybe five, ten or even twenty years down the track Jasper might walk back into her life, ask her for a second chance and Serena would crumble at the knees because of “what could’ve been.” Because their silly journey was abruptly cut, their road plastered with temporary detour signs. And the crumbling wouldn’t be because she was weak, but rather because she was strong, because she had lasted that long without ever reading or writing out the last chapter of their story.
For some reason Jasper disappearing the way he did would never be enough for Serena to hate him – not when she had given him good reason to disappear. It’d never be enough that she loved Markie and Markie loved her, not when there was unfinished business residing with another. Now it was just a matter of tracking Jasper down.
The last Serena heard Jasper had won that major award in Vienna, meaning he wasn’t a poor boy anymore (if $50,000 made any difference). Not that this changed anything at all. A friendly call put through to the art gallery also informed her that Jasper was done visiting every bloody exotic city in Europe (think Florence, Paris, Amsterdam, and Zagreb) and hence was due to fly home any day now to his celebratory party at the gallery.
The day also happened to be tonight.
“It will be a big do, journalists, media folk, the whole shenanigans. Have you reserved a ticket, ma’am?” the receptionist asked her.
“No, no I haven’t,” mumbled Serena. “Do you need to have a ticket? Um, and if so are there any left?”
“That depends; do you work for any media publication, local or national?”
“Actually I’m a freelance.” Serena crossed her fingers behind her back. “Currently profiling up-and-coming artists. I’d be honored if you could somehow snag me a spot at the event.”
“No problem, you just need to bring along your media pass. If I could get your name please.”
“It’s….” Damn, what was she supposed to do now? Forging a copy wasn’t an option given Serena didn’t even know what a media pass looked like. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Of course, why didn’t she think of it immediately?
“My name is Tabitha, Tabitha Parker. So what time does this thing start again?”
“Okay Tabitha, it starts at seven-thirty sharp. Be there with your bells on.”
“Oh I will,” Serena promised. “With bells and whistles too.”
Seven-thirty didn’t give her the most time to steal Tabitha’s rarely-used media pass away from her. But it was enough. Especially since the unsuspecting lass would never even know it was missing.
Getting the pass was easier than Serena thought. All it required was asking Tabitha for an appreciative look at the newly inserted Rick photos in her wallet, a drop on the floor, the swipe of a card and the girl was none the wiser. Sneaking away from Markie for the night, now that was different matter.
“But I had something extra special planned for us,” Markie sulked, as if he’d just been told he couldn’t go to the fun fair.
“Really? I thought we were just laying low which was why I made plans with Champagne and Violet.”
“So cancel them. For me.” Markie bent down and buried his puppy-dog mope into Serena’s lap. “What I have planned is inherently more important.”
“I wish I could but I can’t, the girls are counting on me,” Serena insisted, lifting his head back up and kissing Markie on the forehead. “But don’t worry, in a week you get to have me all to yourself. And who knows when I’ll be going out on a girl’s night again.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll let you off the hook this time. But try not to stay out too late; an empty bed is a cold one.”
“I promise,” Serena said. And she meant it. What she had planned for Jasper couldn’t possibly take very long.
The art gallery receptionist wasn’t lying when she said the event would be ridiculously extravagant.
It was. At the very least it was an occasion fit for a king: lots of fancy food, upmarket decorations, and lights flashing non-stop from the paparazzo’s bulbs. Serena did her best to hide among the throng while maintaining one eye on constant surveillance duty. Where was that Jasper? One would think the events people would have built him a throne to sit on, or at the very least constructed a stage. Not one of the promotional posters gracing the gallery’s walls had included a picture of the acclaimed artist so Serena figured she wasn’t the only person struggling to work out what all the fuss was about.
Tired of getting squashed by the mass, Serena (a.k.a Tabitha, who had no problem getting in with Tabitha’s badge despite the long dark blonde versus short black hair discrepancy) grabbed another glass of champagne from a wandering waiter and exited the claustrophobic room. Ah, now that’s better. She could finally breathe. So far no Jasper, but maybe it was best if she waited for all the commotion to die down. She took another peek at her watch. Good, nine o’clock, not long before people start dispersing along with the supply of sushi rolls and assorted Dim Sims, spring roll and curry puffs.
To pass the time, Serena wandered down the wide long corridors, taking in the Renaissance paintings. Each one had the same effect that Jasper’s award winner had on her a few months back. They took her to a time and place, sometimes many centuries old, where her current thoughts and feelings seemed trivial. So what if she was only 99% confident in her love for Markie: here were women in paintings who survived on two slices of stale bread a day, women who toiled to keep themselves and their children alive. Love dilemmas could apparently wait when your higher needs had not yet been met.
As she neared the end of corridor, Serena was both surprised and sad to have her momentary meditation interrupted by a burst of chatter. It was coming from the far room, outside which stood another one of the gallery’s staff, hands claspe
d behind his back. She hadn’t even realized she wasn’t alone.
“Excuse me, what’s going on in there?” she asked the rigid-looking gentleman, pointing to the room.
“Tsk, tsk,” he shook his head in response. “You’re either very late or very lost,” he replied, nodding at Serena’s media pass which hung from a red cord around her neck.
“Late for…?”
“The press conference, of course.” He smiled, opened the door and ushered Serena in.
She couldn’t have possibly known this was the last place in the world she’d want to be.
Gathered near the front of the room, some twenty feet away from Serena, were a bunch of scary-looking vultures feeding off the head table and more essentially – the star of the night, Jasper. Even if the art gallery worker hadn’t said the magic words – press conference – she would’ve known what she was dealing with. Journalists were infamous for never leaving home without their staples - in the form of notebook, Dictaphone and writing utensils (usually with a spare tucked behind the ear).
As she let out an uncontrollable “feck”, the whole lot of them turned to stare at Serena, Jasper included. She wasn’t sure what to do next. It was obvious the conference had come to an end, that this was just casual last minute chitchat taking place. Now maybe if Jasper had been hunched over tying his shoelace or plain distracted, Serena would have gone for the bolt. But she couldn’t very well do that now. Jasper was eyeballing her in the most severe way, with a thick amused grin on his face.
At least out of her embarrassment came one solved mystery – the location of the missing artist all this time.
“Um…I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have the wrong room.” She smiled meekly, and tried to retract her steps as delicately as possible. It looked like she was doing a sad attempt at Michael Jackson’s moon-walk.
The Numbers Game Page 35
