“Let me take a shot of you.” Dora offered.
“No, I’m a mess.” I said feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being on the other side of the lens.
“Nonsense.” Dora insisted grabbing the small camera from me. I did my best to smooth in my unruly hair, forced a smile and then was forever frozen with a click. A moment later, she handed the camera back.
In less than thirty minutes we arrived before a tiny village of shops, restaurants, a grocery and a dingy bar. The resort itself was self contained but the village was designed as a community for the enormous staff that worked for the resort. All of the buildings matched with flat roofs and an illusion of the old American West.
“How quaint.” Dora said as we parked the scooters and began to explore the area.
“I wanted to thank you for the company today.” I said.
“No need. This is okay for me." She paused a moment eyeing me then added, "and by the way, I’m glad you invaded my space.”
“Your space?” I said under my breath presenting a peeved demeanor but in truth, I was merely playing back with her.
“Yes, my space.” She countered through a superior grin knowing full well I was finally accepting her as part of my vacation package.
We walked a distance along the main strip of stores as the wooden planking tapped under our footsteps. Dora paused outside of a fudge shop. The sweet fragrance filled the air and I noticed an odd expression overtake her face.
“My sister Laura was crazy about sweets. No matter where we were, she had to find chocolate. I believe she could have found pastry in the middle of a famine.”
I sensed a great sadness from Dora. I didn't know why but it seemed as if she was estranged from her sister.
“Where is your sister now?” I asked.
“Laura…” She said, “Laura is with my father.” There was a remorseful pause. “She passed away two and a half weeks ago today.”
I extended my hand and grasped Dora’s arm. “I am so truly sorry.” I responded sympathizing for the overload of grief that she was obviously carrying.
Dora nodded but her mind seemed to be a hundred miles away.
“My twin,” Dora whispered. “She was my only blood family and now she’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry.” I said with genuine sincerity.
Dora paused and I could sense her pain. There was something about her body language that indicated she was a reserved sort of person living behind a guarded towering wall. She did not appear at all comfortable in sharing and yet she did, with me.
“Look at me, dumping this on you. I’m sorry. I have no right to claim your re-grouping time.” Dora announced with deep regret.
“It’s okay.” I said and truly meant it.
If ever there was a true turning point between two people; that had to be the moment. Dora let me in, she let down her guard and I gained a better understanding as to what she was doing here and as to why she refused to leave.
After a few brief moments of awkward, Dora nodded. As we began to stroll back to where we had parked the scooters, I had the distinct impression that she was trying to decide if she had been right to trust me. It was obvious that sharing did not come easy for her. I held onto her arm not wishing to release my show of support…hoping that I could convey how right she was to extend faith in me.
When we returned to the scooters, we were missing one. “Who would take a resort scooter?” I asked with disbelief.
“Chuck.” A man wearing a wrinkled chef’s outfit said from behind.
We both turned in unison.
“He was late for work in the kitchen and missed the provided transportation.”
“So he took our bike?” I snapped with a disapproving tone.
“If I may, you can page the resort to send another one.” The chef was thin and his chipped front tooth added character to his boyish face. "They probably could have it here in about forty five minutes or so."
“We’ll double up.” Dora announced.
“There’s no room on that miniature thing for two people.” I argued.
“Laura and I used to do it all the time when we were traveling to dance class in Madrid. Of course we were just kids but I know it can be done.”
“I can walk.” I said firmly as Dora sighed in disbelief. About a half mile later, and a half mile of suffering from near heat exhaustion, I took the back of her Vespa.
I plopped onto the seat of the bike, and all of a sudden I was unsure exactly what to do with my hands. There was no place to hold on, no place but onto the person who was holding the handle bars, the very beautiful Dora Alavaro.
In all honesty, the idea that we could topple over caused me a bit of a panic. I didn’t have the experience that Dora had. I didn’t have a sister that I held onto in such a way while growing up. The extent of my knowledge came from books, from reading while spending countless hours escaping many depressing realities throughout my life.
My heart was racing, pounding in beats of fear, but as I wrapped my arms around her, that feeling of fear proved to be something else entirely…the nervous palpitations in my chest, the tingling in the pit of my stomach, the memory of her robe flashing the smooth of her breasts during breakfast, her sharing how she had lost her sister, add it all up and…and…and…my face… I realized….if Dora had turned around to catch a glimpse of me, I know I was wearing many shades of embarrassment. I was feeling all right, I was feeling an undeniable attraction to her.
Although the battery power did not enable great speed with two bodies in tow, I held onto her for dear life regardless. I kept praying that she would not turn around for then, in that moment she would know. I was never any good at hiding such things. How embarrassing it was to be feeling that way, how embarrassing it was to be wearing those feelings with twenty shades of flush on my face.
The divorce, yes, the divorce was leaving me vulnerable and confused. That had to be it. It had been so long since I had experienced intimacy in such a way. I was emotionally starved so it all made perfect sense.
Think of something else, anything else. Think of Travis, the ass.
I’m not sure how I managed to keep it all together, but I did. We followed the path along the outer perimeter of the island. On the final stretch we passed the impressive golf course overlooking the ocean and my mind properly shifted to Travis. His joy outside from work was to spend as much time as possible on the golf course with his cronies. I was left alone for much of our marriage together. It was then I realized that had we ever managed to share this vacation together that he would have been submerged in golf abandoning me as always.
I thought about the time I had even attempted to learn to play golf so as to be closer to him, but by that point we had grown so far apart that my efforts were not wanted, nor were they appreciated.
The reality was that our relationship was over long before the finalities of the divorce decree. In rehashing all of it in my mind, I was able to calm down, thankfully.
Dora pulled the scooter into the corral with the other bikes sitting in wait. I swung off; she then followed. “See, plenty of room for two people.”
I nodded.
As we left the gate, Dora inquired as to where to find jet ski’s. My eyes widened with surprise. I wondered if my agreement to trade tit-for-tat activities was something that I would soon live to regret. There was no doubt, I was sure to find out.
Chapter 04: Marv Brummel, Support Staff, the Grand Resort, Whispering Falls Island
It was curious, the two before me. I wheeled in the service cart; freshly sculpted fruit, Chef Duello’s bread creations, formal place settings, hand picked Columbian select coffee beans; ground and simmering in a pot, the finest blend of green tea steeping. I half expected the room mates to be at odds, drawing distinct lines over territory. Surprisingly, it wasn’t like that though, they were actually interacting in an agreeable fashion.
I wasn’t scheduled to work that morning since I’d covered for someone the day before, pulling a
double shift. When asked, however, I never turned down such opportunity and so I was always called first. The wage was decent and I had dreams.
I needed to borrow a uniform since all four of mine were being laundered. Borrowing wasn’t the best way to begin the day, the sleeves were too short and the shoulders too tight. Spending eight to twelve hours confined in what seemed to be a straight jacket made the day longer and watching the clock more noticeable. A day off seemed just beyond my reach.
I didn’t mind catering to the wealthy. They had their ways, their oddities. Most were uptight, conservative, prisoners to their image of wealth and power, but then there were others such as the Alavaro Communications twin. I had to stop myself from chuckling as she sipped her coffee before me. She was well known for the prestige of running one of the top five most lucrative companies in Europe. She projected herself so impeccably too, all business, all serious. She was somewhat famous with her picture frequenting technology magazines and for her contributions to charity. All professional that one- not here, not now, not last week, and probably not tomorrow. I was seeing a whole other side to her and at this moment, I liked what I saw. She appeared human.
Ms. Alavaro was a fine piece of work. I do mean “fine” too. She was the sort many men would give their left testicle for simply because she projected an extreme challenge and “the having” would be quite a feat. Whoever she ended up with would be seen as “the man” too. Sexy was an understatement where Dora was concerned. Every straight man on the staff was in lust with her and I had no doubt, some of the women as well. Even in her disheveled state, she was still worth an eyeful.
I remembered her twin sister, Laura, from her stay at the resort a while back. We never forget the guests who give us trouble. Everyone on the staff cringed when an order would ring through from her. That one was spoiled, demanding and difficult. We found ourselves flipping a coin to see who would have the great misfortune of serving her. Even though she was an identical replica to Dora, the beast inside of her, made her ugly.
Then there was that boyfriend of hers, Stefano. The poor woman had no clue that she was his cover. He wasn’t into her, but he wasn’t exactly into men either…he was more into himself. The swine!
The staff threw a party the night that Laura and Stefano left the island. We did that sometimes, for the most difficult guests. Her name was added to a list we kept at the bar of those we wished to never step foot at the resort again. One had to be a royal pain to make it on that list. We’d follow up by sharing stories about them over shots of tequila. Oh, and we would laugh at the stupidity of their selfish behaviors. Of course we used any and all excuses to party. Why not? We needed some way to let off a bit of steam.
The work although honest, was often times tense. It took a lot of people to take care of the resort and to maintain the island. Reputation was everything and there were very high standards to meet. Every fold had to be ironed, linen washed, every floor buffed, and sometimes we were instructed to scrub, fold and iron a second or third time just for good measure.
Dora Alavaro seemed nothing like her sister. She was likable and down to earth. I’d served her lunch four of the seven days the week before. What a mess she was. I told the manager that I half expected to find her corpse sometime soon, especially if she kept up her pace. She seemed to be on a mission to self destruct. I’ve never seen anyone in such a slump. The evil twin had died. It was all over the headlines in the European papers and on the Internet. Dora Alavaro was standing alone now and her falling apart like that wasn’t a pretty sight.
The manager Albert, of course, instructed us to serve Dora a sandwich each day for lunch whether she ordered it or not. He made us promise that we would keep watch until she ate every last morsel. He didn’t want trouble and he certainly didn’t want the negative publicity the death of the Alavaro Communications heiress would invite to the private resort.
We all patiently anticipated Dora’s check out date too. We were hoping that she would move on and if she had it in her mind to drink herself to death, that she would do it elsewhere. Of course Albert had a fit when she refused to leave. The rest of us shared in genuine concern for her well being, however. Al did his best to move her along, but she wanted no part of it.
No one knew what to do about her situation exactly. With her unlimited resources, she could have stayed on indefinitely.
When the American arrived to take residence in the penthouse across from Dora, the manager concocted a brilliant scheme. “Why not put her in with Dora Alavaro?”
“You can’t do that.” The desk clerk argued from behind closed doors.
The manager pulled rank and that was that.
His idea was that with them sharing quarters, there would be someone to keep an eye on Dora twenty four-seven.
It was a great idea except the blonde American was not very happy about it. There were three sections of penthouse accommodations, laid out in a clover leaf design overlooking the island. Only one of the three suites was actually in use because even for those of privilege, the price for occupancy was quite excessive.
The manager looked Carmen Davis directly in the eye and manipulated the situation. He realized in doing as much he was taking a great risk. He weighed the reputation of the resort against the benefit of not having to worry about Dora Alavaro for the time being. Albert also considered how Ms. Davis was the sort who would unlikely stay as a repeat customer, nor was it probable that those in her circle would be future guests if she were to publicly express dissatisfaction.
As I stood in the shadows overseeing breakfast, the Davis woman ogled Dora Alavaro, and Ms. Alavaro batted her eyes in return. The subtext between them was curious, and it made my day. Who would have thought that Dora the queen of the communications’ empire was gay? She carried herself quite well, guarded and with proper discretion. I coughed lightly to conceal a chuckle. It was all so delicious.
Of course I could understand the attraction one would feel towards Ms. Davis. If you liked blondes, she was perfect. She wasn’t the ditzy type either; she was beautiful with a sense of thoughtfulness. Believe me though; no one would ever be looking for any of that, because you couldn’t get past her body. She was slender with perfectly toned legs that seemed to go on forever. I suddenly found myself feeling rather warm inside while considering the nitty-gritty of them together. Fantasies floated around and I shrugged my shoulders redirecting those images elsewhere.
Love was in the air and I was certain that Carmen Davis was the best medicine for what was ailing a grief stricken Dora Alavaro. I couldn’t wait to share this new development with the others so that we could place wagers on what would happen next.
Yes, I didn’t mind overseeing the needs of the wealthy, not one bit. They often provided great drama and a fine opportunity to make a little money on a sure bet.
Chapter 05: An alliance between Spain and America
For the first time since my sister Laura had passed away, I slept all night. When I closed my eyes, the day played out before me in terms of present instead of a constant replaying of the past. I thought fondly of the American and the manner that she was beginning again as well. We were both sharing the suite but also the grief that we carried for two different reasons. She was coming to terms regarding the loss of her marriage, and I was mourning the loss of my twin sister.
The better part of the day was spent jumping waves and terrorizing the beach in a play of weave, race and explore...jet ski style. Carmen really adapted and took to the small Honda Aquatrax she drove. She claimed to have never tried this sort of activity in the past, and yet she was proficient in the use of the acceleration jets beneath her. I was smitten by her adventurous nature, to try new things despite going outside of her obvious level of comfort.
We followed the day by eating our dinner at the informal resort eatery, ocean side. Beneath the protective canopy of shade, Carmen devoured a lobster; I on the other hand, preferred a thick t-bone steak. This was the first substantial meal that I had consumed
in a few weeks. The huge baked potato combined with the small glass of wine left me feeling waterlogged.
After, we both staggered our way across the resort, to the elevator and then collapsed in front of the television. Neither of us said much at that point but instead welcomed a unity of silence. The odd thing about America is that in many ways she seemed to be in synch with Spain.
“I’m going to be okay, Laura.” I whispered into the night later, much later. “You rest in peace knowing I will survive this.”
The following morning, I awoke to an empty penthouse. Carmen left a note indicating that she needed some time to herself beginning with an early morning yoga class followed by a relaxation massage. America then invited Spain for a picnic on the deck overlooking the impressive three tiered fountain the resort deemed “Whistler’s Fountain.”
When gusts of wind blow in a certain pattern from the south, the fountain resounds in a “wee-bah-foe” tune which strongly resembles human whistling. No one is certain how such a thing is even possible, which of course adds a bit of mystery to the landscape. Legend has it, those who hear the whistler’s song are awarded a single wish if asked prior to the final “foe.”
I clicked on the stereo which played satellite radio from Paris. Techno bounced throughout and I thought fondly of Laura and how she’d often steal away for a sister’s weekend to live it up. I was residing in the 16eme arrondissement of Paris at the time and every now and then, Laura would phone. We would meet up at the more exclusive clubs and dance. Dance was the one thing we both enjoyed and no matter what, no matter where and no matter when, we were able to put all disputes and sibling rivalry aside all for the sisterly connection it offered.
Falling Whispers, Love & Curses Page 3
