I pulled the duvet over my head and sighed. Why did this have to happen? Everything was going so well. We had a real connection over dinner. We were sharing stories and getting to know each other. I was so flattered when he invited me to the art event. I was surprised, even. It was as though he had committed to the idea of us, enough to share the idea of us with the world. There would be photographers there, no doubt. All sorts of visions started to race through my head during dessert. What would I wear? How would he introduce me? Did he want a long-distance relationship? Did I want a long-distance relationship?
All of those questions seemed futile now. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be seen with me at the restaurant, or else he wouldn’t have been so enraged when the photographers started taking pictures. That was just a fact that I was going to have to accept. And the first stage of this acceptance process involved me having to get out of bed and face the day.
I turned on to my back and pushed myself up to a sitting position. I looked around at my room and saw Nina sleeping on a pile of clothes on my floor. Oh how I envied the life of a cat. Endless naps, endless food, endless baths. No dates with men required. I picked up my cell phone from my bedside table to see that I had three text messages from Rex sent at 1:19AM, 3:11AM, and 3:56AM. I braced myself.
The first text message read: “I want to apologize for tonight. I didn’t mean for the evening to go all to pot. Hope you are okay xxx”
The next text read: “There is no excuse, but that photographer tried to wind me up. The media have tried to hurt everyone I care about. I hope you will let me explain. Please call me tomorrow xxx”
The final text read: “Do you believe in fate xxx”
He seemed very sorry, troubled, and obviously, unable to sleep. While I was still shocked at his behavior, I tried to see it from his point of view. The photographers and flashing lights were new to me, almost exciting and flattering. For him, though, they were everywhere. Around every street corner, every public moment, every private moment. The least I could do was to let him explain. He had better have a good excuse. I couldn’t have an unstable man in my life, especially if part of my future involved the fame of being a successful singer. I couldn’t be worried about him losing his temper at every concert or red carpet event.
I got up out of bed slowly and stretched my legs. Nina heard me rustling around, and she woke up to rub against my legs.
“Ohh Nina, what are we going to do, huh?” I asked, as I picked her up and cuddled her. I laughed to myself, remembering the moment when Rex was determined to “hug her ‘til she loved him”. Was that really how love worked?
I picked up my cell phone and called Rex. His contact picture was a photo of me and him from the Red Rocks. Roseanne and Billy-Bob’s big American adventure. A lot had changed since then.
“Rose,” Rex said in a hopeful tone. “I am so glad to hear from you.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, I have had a terrible night. I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to talk to you. I needed to.”
“Well, here I am.” I replied. I tried not to make it easy for him. He still needed to prove himself, although it was surprisingly nice to hear that he needed me.
“Listen, I don’t know what got into me, and I am terribly ashamed of my behaviour. It’s just that… you see,” he started to stumble on his words. “There is no excuse for what I did, but I saw red and couldn’t stop myself.”
“And how do I know you won’t ‘see red’ and act like that again?”
“That man… what he yelled was disrespectful. He was trying to get a rise out of me, and he shouldn’t have brought my mother into it.”
“Your mother?” The man yelled something rude about his mom? Everything was clicking into place – why Rex was so protective, why he lost his composure in an instant, and why he hated the media resolutely.
“I don’t want to repeat it. He was trying to wind me up. And it worked,” Rex continued. “It is tough, you know, talking about it. Talking about her,” he said gently, as his words turned to a whisper.
“It is okay. I understand. I find it hard to talk about people from my past too,” I admitted.
“I just… I just want to know what she would be like today. I want to know if she would be proud of me. I have tried to carry on her legacy, I have… but it is tough. It is tough without her here,” he said, sounding like the wounded child that I once heard before.
“She would be proud of you, without question,” I tried to comfort him. A protective, almost maternal, warmth came over me, and I wanted to hug him until he melted into me. Until everything was better. Until he loved me. “You are an amazing man. You created your own charity. You bring happiness to people who are suffering around the world simply by being there and listening to them. And especially by your dance moves.”
“I always did know how to put on a good show. She knew how to put on a good show too, my mother,” Rex replied, sounding more spirited.
“Yes, and you will put on a good show tomorrow night too,” I encouraged him.
“Will you still come over beforehand to help with my speech?”
“Yes, without question,” I replied, and I was reminded that I needed to get ready for tomorrow. “I have to go now, but I will see you tomorrow night.”
“Okay. I promise I will do better, Rose.”
We said goodbye, and I sat back down on my bed. I couldn’t even begin to try to imagine the pain he must feel. I had lost a parent too, yes. But my dad willfully chose to leave; he wasn’t unwillingly stolen from me. It was a deliberate decision by one man, not an unexplainable act of fate. Somehow, the anger I felt towards my dad for making that decision always limited the sadness I felt. And for me, anger was easier to deal with than sadness.
I never allowed myself to think about the past for long. I couldn’t tell if that was because I was resilient or scared, but I didn’t live in the past, and Rex didn’t either. It was time for us to look to the future, starting with the art event tomorrow. Rex was officially back in the good books.
NINETEEN
“Damn, girl!”
I was back at the dress shop on Larimer Street. This time, I was going to find the perfect dress for the art event.
“So, what’s the occasion?” the male shop assistant continued.
“I am going to an art appreciation dinner tonight in Boulder,” I replied while looking at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a gold, floor-length gown, with a swooping cowl neck that modestly exposed my décolletage. Gemstones accented the neckline and below my chest. It was a thick, cosy material that softly caressed my body.
“Woo, all those artsy men are going to want to eat you right up, like one of them gold-wrapped Ferrero Rocher candies.”
“Oh, do you think so? Is the neck a little bit too low? I don’t want to be flaunting anything.”
“Girl, you are covered from your head to your toe. They can’t even sneak a peek at those legs of yours. You are not ‘flaunting’ at all. What’s wrong with you? I could try to see if we have some Amish attire in the back…”
“No, no, no,” I laughed. “I just want to make a good, respectable impression.”
“Okay, girl,” he replied. “It’s just a dinner though, right? Not like this is some big event with paparazzi. You won’t be plastered all over the magazines the next day, with fashion designers reviewing if you are ‘hot or not’? Know what I’m saying?”
“Hmm, I suppose so,” I said hesitantly. I might be photographed if I went as Rex’s date. I might be evaluated as ‘hot or not’ in the magazines. I might be ripped to shreds. Oh, sweet corn-on-the-cob! I didn’t know if I could go through with it!
“And even if you were in the magazines, you would kill it. You look impeccably dressed and poised. You look like royalty, baby!” the shop assistant assured me.
“Okay,” I replied, still looking at the dress in the mirror. I did look very elegant, and Rex could always give me fashion tips when I meet him beforehand. I turned ar
ound and looked at my back-view in the mirror; the back of the dress dipped low enough to see the curvature of my back, before lightly skimming my derriere and gracefully flowing to the floor. Rex would love this dress. “This is the dress!” I exclaimed.
TWENTY
I spent the entire rest of the day getting ready for the art event later that evening. My getting ready ritual felt more like a day at the spa. I came home after buying my golden dress and treated myself like a princess.
I started with a long, hot candlelit bath, where I gently exfoliated, shaved, and moisturized. I took breaks between working, napping, and popping Ferrero Rocher chocolates into my mouth. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ferrero Rochers once the shop assistant mentioned them, so I caved in and bought a box. I thought I could eat the box over a week or so, but there I was: lathering myself up with my pink luffa, singing along to my favorite Elton John cd, and throwing 2 or 3 chocolates in my mouth at one time. I finished off the entire box within an hour. It was divine.
Nina enjoyed the bath too, as she sat up on the bath ledge or played with my crumpled up candy wrappers on the floor.
“Mommy is going on a date,” I explained to Nina as she supervised my bath-time activities. She didn’t show any type of encouragement for my big night, and she just stared back at me blankly.
After I had my fill of wine, chocolates, and relaxation, I got out of the bath and started my beauty regimen. Moisturizer, first. Everywhere. I spritzed some of my perfume on my neck and wrists. I remembered my mom once saying, “Spray perfume everywhere you want to be kissed.” I sprayed a little extra on my décolletage. You saucy minx, Rose. It made everything smell like vanilla and Christmas, just like what the girl said in the elevator last week.
I sat down at my table to start to put on my makeup. I wanted to look flawless for the photographers, but mostly, for Rex. I went for a dramatic cat-eye look with deep red lipstick. I must have applied my mascara a hundred times, trying to get the perfect balance of thick, long eyelashes with no clumps.
“Ta da!” I said to Nina, after finishing my make-up. Nina looked at me briefly with boredom before looking down at the ground. “Come on, Nina. You aren’t exactly my number one cheerleader right now. But just wait until you see my dress.”
I gently pulled the golden gown over my head. It cascaded down my body and landed perfectly over my curves. This dress was meant to be. I had to put all food and wine away to ensure I didn’t have any stain emergencies before the big night.
Finally, it was time to do my hair. I put it up into a half-up, half-down hairstyle, with a perfectly round ballerina bun at the back. The rest of my hair flowed beautifully down my back, and I let some delicate pieces fall softly around my face. Wow. It was almost as if a crown or a tiara would fit perfectly on top of my head… like a Royal Heiress. I laughed out loud at my ridiculous thoughts. But, really…
TWENTY-ONE
Knock, knock, knock. My hand rapped against Rex’s hotel door, much more quietly than I had expected. I hoped he heard it. I took a step back from the door, and moved to the side. I always hated knowing that someone on the other side of the door got to check you out through their peephole, while you just stood there in all of your carnival-mirror distorted glory.
The longer I waited, the more nervous I became. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the effects of devouring a whole box of Ferrero Rochers, but I felt sick to my stomach.
Then in one fell swoop, Rex opened the door, greeted me with a smile, and all of my nervousness disappeared. “Come in, come in!” he exclaimed. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
I walked in to his hotel room, which looked as big as a mansion. “Wow, this place is amazing,” I said. I spotted a beautiful flower corsage on the living room table that he must have bought for me to wear. He was wearing the matching flower boutonniere on his left lapel.
Rex smiled and looked me up and down. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Why are you all dolled up, love?”
“For the art event, silly,” I replied and laughed. He didn’t laugh. His eyes were wide and wildly confused.
“I invited you to come over to help me with my speech,” he explained. “But I can’t take you there with me, kitty-cat.”
“Oh.” I could feel my heart sinking and stinging every fibre in my body as it fell. The embarrassment crushed me then and there. I could feel his eyes on me, and my face felt hot. I looked down at the floor, and I wanted it to swallow me up. I didn’t know where to look or what to say. I needed to get out of there. I started to step backwards towards the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, trying to grab my hands. “There must have been a miscommunication.”
I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear his excuses or his explanation for why I wasn’t good enough to go with him. I pulled my hands away from him and ran as quickly as I could to the door, with my gold dress rustling against my body.
“Wait, Rose!” he yelled, but it was too late. I slammed the door and ran towards the elevators. I was so hurt and confused, I could barely see straight. My body felt empty and used. I tried to keep my composure until I got into the shelter of the elevator.
The elevator door opened, and I pressed the button as quickly as I could. When the doors closed, my eyes erupted with hot, sudden tears. I cried so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. You are such a fool, Rose.
I made my way through the busy hotel lobby. Old couples, young couples, and families gave me looks of concern and confusion, as I continued to sob and run in my golden gown. I finally made it outside on to the street. The fresh air cooled and dried my tear-stained cheeks as I ran home. He didn’t want to be seen with me. He didn’t want to share the idea of us with the world after all. He didn’t buy the corsage for me. He bought it for someone else.
TWENTY-TWO
“Derek, can you come over?” I whimpered on the phone, as I curled up on my couch.
“I’ll be right there,” he replied. “What can I bring over to drink? Wine? Something a bit harder like Crown Royal?”
“Nothing royal. Wine, yes.” We swiftly said goodbye and hung up. Derek would rescue me, and be my knight in shining armour.
Nina jumped up to lay on my lap. I petted her, and my eyes filled with tears again, remembering how hopeful I had been while getting ready earlier today. “Mommy isn’t going on a date after all, Nina,” I explained. She purred and closed her eyes.
I tried to remember the exact words that Rex used at dinner when he didn’t invite me to the event. He said that I would love it. Then he said I should come over beforehand to help with his speech. I suppose he didn’t explicitly ask me to attend the event in so many words, but that was definitely the impression I got. Did I create the invitation in my own mind? Did he really not invite me? I was so confused.
Either way, I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again. A person couldn’t survive that amount of humiliation. A couple certainly couldn’t survive, either. That was it for me and Rex. This was our sad ending.
I wondered who the flower corsage was for. It matched his boutonniere, so he clearly had another date. Maybe he had another girl from Denver who showed him around the city. Maybe he was flying in another girl from England. A girl who would be more impeccably dressed, poised, and well-bred, I was sure. A girl who he would be proud to introduce to his family and to the world. How could I have been so foolish? I closed my eyes and tried to stop thinking. To stop hurting.
I must have drifted off for a while, but I was soon startled by knocking at my door. I knew that it was Derek, but I let myself imagine for a moment that it was Rex coming to apologize. I opened up the door to see Derek standing tall in my doorway, pushing a big bottle of red wine towards me.
I smiled weakly. “Thanks for coming, Derek,” I said and took the bottle of wine by both hands.
“Anytime. What’s up, buttercup?” he asked, as he took off his leather jacket and walked into my living room. He was wearing a black sweater and had dark denim jean
s on. He rustled his hair and smiled back at me in the kitchen.
I grabbed two glasses from my kitchen and joined him on my couch. “The troubles of life,” I sighed and poured two glasses of wine.
“So, you mean… the boy troubles of life.” He grabbed his glass and took a sip.
“I don’t know what I mean, Derek,” I replied. I was sure he didn’t want to hear the intricate details of me dating other guys. I took a big gulp of wine. “My heart just hurts, and I need more wine.” I refilled my glass until it was full again and took another drink.
“Now, now…” Derek started to say, as he grabbed my glass of wine and put it on the table. “There’s nothing worse than a heartbreak hangover. Take it easy, Rose.”
“I could think of a few things that are worse.”
“And what would those be?”
“Lies, public humiliation,” I grabbed my glass again. “Unrequited love.” I looked at Derek, and we locked eyes for a moment. He didn’t have to say a word. I could tell in his eyes that he knew the pain of unrequited love, all too well. There was no lower feeling than knowing that you had found your soul mate, the one person that you would always love most in the world, and having to accept that this other person would never want you or love you. And if you ever wanted to find love again, you knew you had to settle for less. But eventually, over time, you would meet someone else, and you would convince yourself you were happy, and not even allow yourself to think about the one that got away. That was the sad story of unrequited love.
“You are probably right,” Derek said, finally. “What are we going to do with each other?” He stretched out his arm and pulled me closer to him.
A Kiss and a Cuddle Page 8
