Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight

by Ann Mauren

  Embarrassment aside, I tore into the basket searching for the bath aid that could remedy my emotional upheaval. There was quite a selection but I decided to go with the one called ‘Happy Pill.’

  Whereas the other bath bombs were more or less spherical, this item was shaped like a cartoonishly large pharmaceutical, brightly colored in two tones, one half orange and the other deep yellow.

  As I soaked in the tub, the scents of Bergamot, Frankincense and Gardenia first relaxed me, then “brightened my mood to match the soft sunrise color of the water,” just as the packaging had promised. While I steeped in that wonderful smelling brew I thought about the appropriateness of the ensemble lurking in the room outside. As I mulled it through, I concluded that there was no way in the world Gray could have put that together himself. After puzzling out the possibilities, I decided that he must have enlisted the help of the lady at the outdoor store. She would have seen my clothes and shoe size in the dressing room and would know to buy things like matching undergarments and fancy pantyhose.

  Sherri had done a lot of good work in a fairly short time frame, I realized—the time it took to view and contemplate Bow Falls. Probably as incentive for a job well done, he told her she could keep the credit card when she was finished.

  I felt better when I decided on that version of things. The thought of Gray selecting panties for me had made me flee the scene in the first place. But now I had the courage to return and check out the rest of her handiwork.

  Working through my bath, I used every product category in the basket, trying hard to keep the fragrances in the same family so that there would be some continuity to the smell of me when I was finished. After drying my hair I stepped back out into the room to fetch the new underwear and see if there was anything else of interest in the care package on the dresser.

  Of course there was more, including an adorable little matching purse, a full complement of cosmetics in their own cool looking case, some exotic hair pins, and another box, this one from a jewelry store. I gulped at the thought, but I couldn’t resist the suspense.

  The necklace and matching earrings inside the black velvet case were understated, but flawlessly sparkling and beautiful. A thin chain of braided platinum looped through a pendant that featured a cascade of six successively larger gemstones, transitioning in color from black to purple to magenta, linked together by more of the platinum braiding. The earrings were a smaller version of the necklace, but with three stones each.

  It reminded me of costume jewelry, except that I knew the stones were real, and I knew that this was not something Sherri had picked out for me.

  When I’d fixed everything in place, including the make-up and the jewelry, I had to admit that I looked pretty good. Well, probably the best ever…for me, that is. Which I reminded myself was not that big of an accomplishment. I took deep breaths and tried to think happy thoughts. Gray had gone to a lot of trouble to bring this ‘accomplishment’ about, or at least he’d paid Sherri to, and I owed it to him to wear a pleasant expression to go along with the rest of what I was wearing.

  At exactly five till eight he knocked on my hallway door. I was relieved that he hadn’t attempted to enter through the adjoining room door. I had been troubled by its presence ever since I realized what it was. In fact, my room had two adjoining doors, one on each inside wall, and though there were locks in place, I still found it unsettling, somehow.

  I was standing just inside the main door, but I counted to fifteen before I answered and stepped out. To my surprise, and I’ll admit it, my gratification, Gray’s eyes actually popped open wide at the sight of me, before he adjusted his expression to reflect more genuine delight than astonishment.

  “Wow,” was all he said, in tandem with a huge smile. Then, with a soft chuckle, he added, “That worked out well,” seeming a little too proud of himself as he spoke.

  “Thank you for thinking of this,” I said softly as I pulled at the sides of the dress, unable to meet his gaze, which was burning a hole in me. Reaching up to finger the necklace, I spoke with perfect sincerity, even more softly, still addressing the floor, “It was very kind of you.”

  He helped me correct my perspective with a soft hand guiding my chin upward to meet his gaze.

  “It was kind of you to go along with it…and I’m pleased at how…beautifully…it all came together.”

  He smiled like he was enjoying an inside joke and he made a show of looking me over.

  “You’ll need to drive me back over to the store so I can thank Sherri personally.”

  I was serious, though he still laughed at me.

  “If you’d like,” he said, as he held out his elbow for me.

  I hesitated for a moment, but then wound my free hand up and through, while my other hand carried my matching clutch with various quickly corralled portable beauty aids stowed inside.

  “And you can get your credit card back from her while we’re there,” I added.

  His only response to that was to smile even wider, and shake his head slightly, while looking straight ahead as we rounded the corner heading for the elevators.

  When we walked out into the lobby, that scopophobic sensation ballooned larger than I’d ever felt it before, except that it wasn’t from unseen eyes. It was from eyes coming toward me, and eyes walking behind, and eyes from the other side of the room. It felt like I had a huge spotlight beamed directly on top of me, tracing my every step. I could feel myself stiffen in response and worked furiously to stay loose, otherwise I might trip and give everyone a real reason to stare.

  Gray was not oblivious to the situation, the looks or my reaction to them. He put his arm around my shoulder, in a reassuring hug, then held me a little tighter while we were waiting for our turn with the maître d’.

  I laughed at myself when I thought about how uncomfortable I thought I’d been modeling clothes that afternoon in comparison to how I felt at the moment. It was like the difference in comfort levels between a dental cleaning and a root canal.

  The pain got worse before it got better. As we were led to our table, if one person turned to look, I swear they all did. It was ridiculous. I wanted to bolt, but I held it together and pretended to ignore everyone. As Gray held my chair for me, I noticed that the table was set with wine glasses and I had an epiphany. I’d just discovered a way to hold at bay everything unpleasant this evening was threatening…vino.

  Unwittingly playing straight into my strategy, Gray studied the wine list before reviewing the menu. I spoke up and asked, “Did you know that here in Alberta the legal age for alcohol consumption is eighteen?”

  He looked up at me with a strange mixture of amusement and caution in his eyes.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive. Would you allow me to have some wine with my meal tonight?”

  I assumed he was buying, since I hadn’t even been allowed to purchase my own Cinnabon at the airport earlier in the day.

  “Of course. I guess it would be rude to partake myself and deny you the opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

  He was smiling at me now, but his expression was hard to translate. He turned back to the wine list and my scopophobic sensitivities directed my eyes to the corner of the room, over Gray’s shoulder, to the source of the sensation: Ash’s eyes.

  He smiled at me, though I knew there wasn’t a drop of pleasure in it. I could only imagine what he must be going through. I wondered where he’d been all day. I hadn’t seen him since the airplane lavatory. The thought of that encounter made me smile, self-consciously. This whole situation was like a mean joke, or a really awful play with a terrible leading lady. I felt so bad for him. I looked away before I got caught.

  Gray ordered the salmon steak and a glass of Merlot for himself and the lobster stuffed ravioli with a glass of Zinfandel for me. How did he always manage to get my order right? I thought he might quiz the waiter with a drinking age trivia question as well, but to his credit, he let it go.

  Moments passed and w
e chatted pleasantly about the places he planned for us to visit. Some places I had seen in pictures, others I could only imagine as he described them. It was an absorbing and pleasant distraction. Then I became aware of an unfamiliar sensation on my lap. What I felt was my purse vibrating and I realized that someone was trying to call me. This was definitely not the kind of place to take a call at the table, so I excused myself and headed toward the Ladies’ Room to see who it was and what they wanted.

  That annoying spotlight switched on as soon as I stood up and followed me all the way into the bathroom, not switching off until I was inside a stall.

  I had the option of looking at the missed calls or checking the voicemail that was left. I opted for the voicemail, since I was in no hurry to leave. Pulling out the little instruction sheet from my wallet, I followed the steps for message retrieval. I had never done it on this phone before, which reminded me…I had better keep this thing out of Gray’s sight or he might steal it back, since it was his, technically.

  The system informed me that I had four new messages.

  Four messages? Did somebody die?

  “First message…Saturday, August 30, 3:15 p.m. …“Ellie, this is Gray. You forgot to give me my phone back. If you happen to check messages, could you call my company voicemail and let me know if you want to keep it or send it back? I’m at extension 2009.”

  Whoops. Guess I should have checked these messages a long time ago.

  “Next message…Friday, September 5, 1:22 p.m. … “Ellie, I’m guessing you didn’t figure out how to check messages yet…well that’s okay I guess. There are a couple of numbers in the contacts I’d like to get, though. If you get this message can you please call me? 919-555-2000, extension 2009. Thanks.”

  Oh well. He really should have called me on my home phone if he wanted his phone back. Would that have been so very hard?

  “Next message…Saturday, February 12, 2:09 a.m. … “Hi Ellie. I was just thinking about that night in Reykjavik, you know, the one with the uh…fireworks? Did that mean as much to you as it did to me? Yeah, huh…anyway I was thinking about you. I really, really miss you.”

  What the what?!?

  I quickly scanned the instruction sheet for the button to replay.

  Five.

  I pushed the five and listened again. I listened to his message four more times.

  What just happened the February before last!?! And what did he mean about the fireworks? Did I blow my chance with him because he thought I blew him off? No!

  NO, NO, NO!!! Months of pain and loss swirled through my mind and settled in the pit of my stomach. Had it all been accidentally self-induced? Being sad because I thought it was over was understandable. It being over because he thought I wasn’t interested was the zenith of wire crossing. Or was Lidia right about it being more about timing, now that I was old enough to drink wine in Canada?

  Speaking of wine, I should have brought the glass in the Ladies’ Room with me. I wasn’t sure if I could face Gray again un-medicated. But what had changed, from his perspective? Nothing. He didn’t even know I was on the phone. I could go back out, and only I would know for sure that I was the biggest idiot in the northern hemisphere, maybe even the southern as well.

  The fourth message, the one I was there to hear, was from my mom.

  Darn it!

  I was supposed to call her when I got in and I’d forgotten. I gave her a quick call, explaining my exact location as an excuse to keep it brief. Yes, the flight was fine. Yes, the hotel was beautiful. Yes, I missed her already too. Our conversation was fairly short, but not rudely so. After I disconnected, I exited the stall, washed my hands, and then accompanied my spotlight back to our table.

  They must have been watching for me because our food arrived just seconds later. I had no appetite, but I ate a few bites anyway to avoid appearing incomprehensibly rude. My glass of wine was gone far too soon, but happily, the moment I put the emptied crystal back on the table the wine steward materialized out of thin air, querying whether I’d like a refill.

  “Yes. Please.”

  I don’t know what kind of escape I thought wine would provide. I guess inebriation is different for everyone. For me it did not furnish the kind of blissful solace from unpleasantness that I had hoped for. I think only unconsciousness or death could deliver what I was looking for. Instead there was something faintly familiar in the way everything looked when I turned my head, like space and time were struggling to keep pace with my vision and movements. The only thing missing was the smell of unwanted perfume. In my mind, the lag between my vision and my movements reminded me of the way something that’s pulled will bump into what’s leading it, once the thing pulling has stopped moving. There were all kinds of starting and stopping and bumping going on in my head now. Though strangely, I did seem to feel happier, after that second glass of Zinfandel, and I wondered if true joy could be found at the bottom of a third. But when the steward came back, Gray dismissed him before I could engage his services once more.

  “Why don’t you save room for dessert?” he suggested.

  As if on cue, they placed a cake in front us, or maybe it was just a slice…from a Paul Bunyan sized cake pan. I didn’t remember anybody ordering dessert, and that was a little disconcerting. What else had already happened that I already didn’t remember?

  Though this dessert certainly looked like something I’d order: chocolate with equal proportions of icing and cake.

  “We’re supposed to share this?” I asked, trying to sound incredulous (doubtful), but coming off more incongruous (absurd), instead.

  Either way, it must have been funny to Gray, because he laughed out loud.

  I said yes to the offer for coffee, though I knew it would do absolutely nothing for me, except give me worse breath than the job that lobster ravioli, wine and chocolate cake were already doing. Of everything I’d shoved into my tiny matching purse, gum or Tic-Tacs had not made the cut, I lamented.

  I was dreading our departure. I had been stringing out the eating of the cake, hoping to buy time, but finally Gray was standing over me, so I was forced to rise. I just wasn’t convinced I’d be able to do more than stand up straight. Good thing the spotlight was on, so I’d be able to see where my face was going to land. Gray was very good to me, though, as usual, and supported me around my waist as we exited the dining room, making it appear to be a romantic gesture as opposed to a logistical maneuver—though I was certain that for him it was both.

  It seemed that he was trying to help me save face by suggesting that we take a stroll through the gardens, even though we both knew there was no way that was really going to happen. The more I walked, even with him holding me, the more off balance I felt. This was aggravating because Gray was enjoying my dependence on him to remain upright far more than he should have. There’s no telling what else I said, but I remember that Gray seemed to be having a wonderful time with me.

  No, the wine hadn’t worked out like I’d planned. I just hoped there wasn’t more disappointment waiting for me in the morning in the form of a hangover.

  The next thing I knew, it was morning and Gray was sitting on the edge of my bed. There was bright light streaming in from the window. The clock said eleven thirty-five. I was disoriented at first…but then it all started coming back to me. My last real memory was the phone conversation with my mom. After that everything was very sketchy, though I seemed to recall a cartoonishly large piece of chocolate cake. Then I panicked when I realized I was wearing nothing but my black bra and undies and Gray was in my room with me on my bed. I quickly scooted under the cover of the covers. The wide-eyed terror playing across my face must have read like a stock ticker. He knew exactly what I was thinking and decided he’d better calm my fears, but not before he got a good tease in first, of course.

  “So, was that the wine talking when you asked me to marry you last night?”

  Even if I’d drunk the whole bottle of Zinfandel, I’m sure I would have remembered that. I rolled my
eyes at him but glanced at my left hand, just in case. He saw my fleeting visual confirmation and laughed at me, with feeling. I felt forced to retreat so I pulled the covers over my head. From my concealed position I asked, “What are you doing in my room, Gray?”

  My unhappy tone, however, was not concealed.

  “You left the adjoining door open last night. I decided to make sure you were still alive. I hope you don’t mind.”

  He was totally unrepentant.

  “That I’m still alive or that you came in?” I answered back in a snappish tone.

  He ignored my question and asked his own, sliding closer down the edge of the bed toward me. He pulled the covers back so he could see my face.

  “Speaking of that, how’s your head?”

  “Did I hit it?” I asked in all seriousness. It was totally plausible, considering how hard it had been for me to walk.

  He laughed out loud again. Why couldn’t I be this funny when I was trying?

  “No. I meant…well…do you have a headache?”

  He was trying to avoid the word ‘hangover’, saving me from further embarrassment; like that was even possible now.

  “No. The only thing that hurts right now is my pride. Could I have some privacy so I can get dressed?”

  He stood up immediately. Then I added, “By the way, what are we doing today so I know what to put on?”

  “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I set some clothes out for you. They’re on the dresser.”

  The idea of him rummaging through those bags assembling my outfit was funny and disturbing at the same time.

  “We’re going to hike in a place near Kicking Horse River. But we’re a little behind schedule, so if you’re feeling up to it after all, I’ll leave you to get dressed and we’ll go as soon as you’re ready.”

  Then he reached out and squeezed my foot through the covers.

  “Thanks again for last night. It was…interesting, but…wonderful,” he said playfully smiling hugely.