The Middle Realm

by Alessia Mattei

  “No, I didn’t invite her.”

  I really didn’t feel like talking about this. I wish everyone would get off my back. I hate being cornered like this. It’s none of his business. I’m sure if he had a friend who did what Emma did to me, he wouldn’t invite them to his going-away party. I’m stuck in a car, so it’s not like I can just storm out of here.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “It’s none of your business?” I said. I meant it.

  “Excuse me? You do not talk to me like that,” he said. He was mad. This is not how this morning was supposed to go.

  “Carl, she’s right. It is no one’s business except hers and Emma’s,” she said.

  The rest of the car ride was silent. It was horrible. Why was my dad making such a big deal out of nothing? Friends fight sometimes. I’m sure Emma will call me to apologize later. At least I hope she does. I know we’ve had our differences, but deep down we really care about each other.

  Ch. 6

  After an hour and half, we arrived at the airport. The sun was rising. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange with patches of purple and red swirled in. It looked as if an artist had painted it. As my mom, my sister and I waited for my dad to finish unloading the car, my mom handed me a bag.

  “Mom, what’s this?” I asked curiously. I peered inside the bag.

  “Oh, there are just some magazines and other things to keep you occupied during the flight. I got you Vogue, Elle, Glamour, Allure, Rolling Stone, Nylon, a Nickelodeon magazine and Entertainment Weekly. There’s also a Twilight magazine with Robert Pattinson on the cover. I know you have a crush on him. I also got you a Harry Potter sticker book and a Hello Kitty coloring book. There are also some other stickers and glitter pens and stationery,” she said as her eyes began to fill with tears.

  Wow, I won’t be bored on this flight. She knows me too well. I can’t believe she found a Nickelodeon magazine; I thought they were out of print. My mom is definitely made of awesome.

  I’m going to miss her so much. I’m going to miss my family. It’s the little things like this that I’ll miss when I’m away. There I go. I’m starting to cry. Now I’ll set off a chain reaction that will end with all four of us crying.

  “Mom thanks. This is so sweet,” I said as I went in for a hug.

  “I was happy to do it. Arianna helped me pick them out. She suggested the coloring and sticker books, along with the Twilight magazine and glitter pens. I’m glad you like it. Arianna, get in here,” she said.

  While my mom, sister and I were hugging one another, my dad walked up with my bags. He dropped them and joined in our hug. It felt good to be held by the people who matter most to me. The only one missing was Alexander. These are the people who would always be there for me. They were constants in my life. No matter what happens, they would stay the same; they were the center of my world. They had shaped me into the person I was. I was going to miss the little moments with them, the conversations at dinner, taking the dogs on walks as a family, working in the garden with my mom, going to the mall with Arianna, helping my dad with the aquarium, and practicing guitar with Alexander. I would also miss Emma, as hard as it was to admit at the moment. We had some good times. Many fun memories had been made with Emma at my side. I glanced at my dad’s watch. It was time for me to go.

  “Okay, I have to go now. It takes forever to check bags.” I gave each of them a hug and they wished me well.

  “Don’t forget to call us when you get there. We don’t want to worry,” my dad yelled to me as I walked toward the terminal.

  Okay, now things are starting to sink in. This is actually happening. I’m interning at the famous fashion house of Cristobal Balenciaga! I’m moving to Paris! Oh, my God! I’m on my way to making my dreams a reality. This could lead to me getting my own fashion line. I could one day headline at Fashion Week. Celebrities would flock to my shows. My clothes could one day be featured in Vogue, Elle and Harper’s. Somebody pinch me; I think I’m dreaming.

  I look down at the plane ticket in my hand. It says “Paris.” I think I could cry. I won’t, though. I need to calm down. I think I need a drink. How about some Jack Daniels? Or, perhaps maybe some Xanax? Does anyone have a Xanax?

  The plane ride was a blur to me. I was so tired from lack of sleep the night before I didn’t even look at any of the magazines my mom got me. I just slept.

  I dreamed of Emma, of course. In my dream I was one of the final contestants on Project Runway; it was between me and another designer. We walked out onto the runway to face the judges. There was Michael Kors, Heidi Klum and Emma. Emma?

  Yes, Emma. I couldn’t believe it. Emma, of all people, judging a show about fashion! The girl has no sense of fashion. Sure, sometimes she manages to pull off a chic look. Usually she looked like a blind man styled her. Let me just point out that just because Emma can accessorize well doesn’t not mean she can dress well. I had done really well according to Michael and Heidi, but Emma didn’t think so. She didn’t think I deserved to win because everything always goes so well for me. She thought the other finalist deserved to win. In the dream I got mad, threw my shoe at her, and stormed off the runway. Then I woke up.

  I must have been talking in my sleep, because the woman across from me asked if I was all right. She said I kept saying “No. It should have been me. It should have been me. Emma, you’re blind” and “You know as much about fashion as a straight guy.” The last one apparently got quite a few laughs from my fellow passengers.

  Ch. 7

  It was mid afternoon when I finally arrived at the Hotel Sorbonne. This is the hotel where my family stays when we visit Paris. Since we have been coming to this hotel for a while, the staff knows us really well, and we get really good service. As my dad always says, “Treat the staff well, and they’ll reciprocate.”

  When I checked in at the front desk, they asked about my family. They said they hoped to see them soon. I’m sure they will.

  The hotel had been renovated since the last time I was there. The place looked amazing and was now even more colorful and airy than before. It had a modern feel, but not so modern that you felt like you were in a laboratory. It was inviting and comfortable.

  I didn’t have to wait long for my room. I got my key -- well, a cardkey -- and made my way up to my room. As I glanced down at the carpet, I noticed that there were quotes from famous French writers woven right into the carpet. That was too cool. I would love to do this at home, but with lyrics from my favorite bands. How cool would it be to walk down the hall and see the lyrics of “Starlight” by Muse on the way to the bathroom, or the lyrics to “I am the Walrus” by The Beatles in the living room? Or even better, the lyrics to “Thank You for the Venom” by My Chemical Romance in my bedroom. That would kick ass.

  The color palette of my hotel room was made up of various shades of blue, black and silver. It was very calming. I’m glad I didn’t get the room with the red wallpaper. My cousin Gabriella was here a few months ago with her best friend and they got the room with all the red. They said it was beautiful, but the red was a little intense. Gabriella’s friend had nightmares involving the Kool-Aid man and mimes.

  Before the bellhop left, I thanked him and gave him a generous tip. I threw open the curtains to let the bright afternoon sun flood the room.

  I looked out the window and saw Paris was bustling with activity, its streets alive with the pulse of people on the move. When night falls, that pulse will become stronger as the nightclubs and bars open for business.

  I sat down on the bed and pulled off my boots. I smiled when I saw my socks with the frogs on them. Alexander likes to make fun of my collection of crazy socks, but I know he thinks they’re adorable. I didn’t bring any with me on this trip, other than the pair I have on now. I’m in the fashion capital of the world. Crazy socks just will not do.

  As I looked at the socks, I remembered that they were a gift from Emma. I wondered what she was doing right now. I feel horrible that I had to leave without ap
ologizing to her.

  I had tried texting her, calling her, sending her messages on Facebook. I even handwrote her a note and left it in her mailbox. I’m not the one who should be apologizing. It should be Emma who’s trying to contact me to tell me how sorry she is that she hurt my feelings. She’s the one who hurt me. She couldn’t be happy for me like a real friend would.

  You know what? I need to stop thinking about her. If she says she’s sorry, great; if not, I wash my hands of her.

  I got up and went to the mini fridge. It was stocked with water, soft drinks, and some fancy little bottles of booze. There was a basket of snacks on top of the fridge. It had cheese, crackers, some tube of meat, cookies, chocolates, champagne and fruit.

  I grabbed the crackers and a bottle of Perrier. I poured some water into a cup. I then opened a jar of Maraschino cherries and poured some of the cherries and juice into the water; it’s the only way I can drink Perrier.

  I took the cup and crackers over to the room’s computer. I’m glad I didn’t have to dig my laptop out of my suitcase. I checked my email. Next I checked my Facebook updates. After that I decided to surf the Internet for a little while, getting updated on what’s going on in the world.

  As I was surfing the Internet, I remembered the bag my mom gave me at the airport and dug it out of my carry-on bag. I took out the magazines and laid them out on the table. I reached back in the bag, and I felt something hard and square. I pulled out a little blue box tied up with a white satin ribbon and taped to an envelope. I took the envelope off the box and opened it:

  My Dearest Savannah,

  I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. Your dreams are starting to unfold before your very eyes.

  You are a talented young designer who will take the fashion world by storm. I know the road to Paris has not been an easy one, but you made it. The long nights spent agonizing over fabric choices and silhouettes have been well worth it. You deserve this so much.

  As hard as it is to see you leave, I know how much this means to you. This internship will open so many doors.

  I got you this charm because your dreams of becoming a fashion designer are taking flight. The sky is the limit.

  Love, Mom

  I started to cry as I untied the ribbon and opened the box. I took out the familiar blue pouch and opened it. I pulled out a little silver airplane charm. It glistened in the sunlight.

  The road to Paris was definitely not an easy one. Getting into Parson’s was not easy. I made sure that nothing but my talent influenced the decision. No money or social ties helped get me in. Once I got in, the stress at times was more than I could handle. But I made it through unscathed.

  After opening up the box, I picked up the phone and called home. My mom answered. She was so relieved to hear my voice. Like all mothers, she is a worrier. I talked to my mom, my dad and Arianna for quite a while.

  After talking to my family, I called Alexander. Hearing his voice felt so good.

  I decided to call the rest of my friends. I even tried Emma, hoping that she might answer. She didn’t. No surprise there.

  It was still relatively early, so I decided to walk around, maybe hit up some boutiques.

  I got ready. I got out my suitcases and went through them. I decided to wear my cropped Chanel blazer over an Elizabeth & James button down shirt. I threw on a pair of Christian Loubiton ankle boots and some Alexis Bittar jewelry and I was on my way.

  I decided to stop by Louis Vuitton, Chloe and, of course, my favorite, Chanel, armed with a credit card -- one that I pay for with the money I earn from my seam stressing business, I might add. When you charge really reasonable prices for simple things like hemming a pair of pants or a skirt, sewing a costume for a school play, or replacing a broken zipper, you get a lot of business. My custom pieces do pretty well, I must admit. Living in a wealthier area certainly helps business. I usually do at least five wedding gowns a year and a handful of prom dresses each spring, so I don’t need to rely on Mommy and Daddy to give me spending money. I pay for my car and all my other expenses. They just provide me with a home, for now, and workspace. Once I found out I got the internship, I started saving up. My dad also gave me some spending money. I didn’t want to take it, but he insisted.

  After shopping, I had some dinner at a little sidewalk cafe then headed back to the hotel.

  It was getting dark by the time I got back to the hotel. As I was walking in, a group was walking out. They looked like they were ready for a night out. It would have been fun to find a bar and just enjoy the company of other people, but I was getting tired.

  I went up to my room. When I got to my room, I slid my cardkey to unlock the door and stepped in. As I stood there in the room, I felt like there was someone else in there with me. You know that creepy feeling you get when you think someone is watching you? Well, I had that feeling. I had to look around. In case there was someone in there with me, I grabbed the hefty bronze figurine of a grazing deer off the mantle. It’s not my first weapon of choice but it would have to do.

  Deer in hand I cautiously opened the bathroom door; no one was in there. Next, I looked under the bed. There was nothing there, either. After I looked in the closet, I shut the door and someone was standing behind me, breathing on my neck.

  My mace and cell phone were in my purse. I didn’t know what else to do, so I slowly raised the deer over my head, ready to strike, until I saw who it was.

  Ch. 8

  “Emma?” I said, after nearly having had a heart attack. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She said nothing. She just looked at me. She was not herself.

  I wondered how she got into my room. I locked the door, didn’t I?

  “Emma, are you okay?” I asked, nervously. “How did you get into my room?”

  “First, can you put the deer down, please?” she asked politely. I walked to the mantle and put the deer back next to its mate. I was not about to piss her off. “In response to your earlier question, no, I’m not okay. I’m sick of standing on the sidelines watching you live your perfect little life. You have it all. You have the wealth, the beauty, the boyfriend and the connections. Everyone loves you. You pretty much have it all. I wish I had at least one of those things, but I don’t.

  “For once, I want to know what it feels like to be wanted, to be part of a group. I want to be included,” she said with the utmost sincerity.

  I don’t know where this all came from. She had often said that she wished she could have my life, but she never acted like this before. I know for a fact her life isn’t as bad as she says. She just wants attention. I don’t call her a drama queen and an attention whore for nothing. With Emma, it’s all about the drama.

  She has always had a flair for the dramatic, even when we were younger. I won’t forget in seventh grade when she had to get glasses. It was horrible. I have never seen anyone react the way Emma did when she found out she would have to get glasses. She cried herself to sleep over it. Yes, she cried over having to get glasses. I’m sure soldiers who find out they will be deployed to a dangerous area handle the news of their deployment better than how Emma handled her corrective eyewear situation. Seriously, what normal sane person cries over glasses? She was afraid she would get made fun of for them. Had Emma gone into acting, I’m sure she would have an award for best actress in a drama.

  “Wow. I really don’t know how to respond to that. You have rendered me speechless. What do you want me to say? Sorry? Sorry for not standing up for you more often?” I asked.

  “That’s not enough,” she said.

  This is ridiculous. I don’t know what possessed her to come here, but she needs to leave. I walked over to the table where my purse was to get the phone number for the airport. Emma needed to go home.

  “What are you doing?” Emma asked.

  “Getting the phone number for the airport so you can go home,” I said.

  “We’re not done talking,” she said.

  Maybe if I just let her talk and
get everything out of her system she’ll leave. You know, she probably could have just called me if she wanted to talk. Why waste a plane ticket when we could have talked over the phone. Emma just really makes no sense sometimes.

  “What more do you want? Sure, I probably could have stood up for you more when people treated you like dirt in high school. But I apologized after graduation, remember? You forgave me and said you put it all behind you. You also promised that nothing would ever come between us, that we would always have each other’s back. What happened to that promise?”

  She didn’t look at me. She looked out the window. Was she giving me the silent treatment? You do not break into someone’s hotel room, scare them to death and then give them the silent treatment.

  “Emma, will you at least tell me how you got into my room?” I asked. Please don’t let it be that I forgot to lock the door.

  “I went up to the front desk and said I lost my key. I used your name,” Emma said.

  What, you have got to be kidding me! They didn’t ask her for an ID or anything?

  “Well, that’s real good.” I said sarcastically.

  “What?” she said. “We look alike. I can’t help it that they couldn’t see that I wasn’t actually you. Just goes to show how easily we can fool people. Hey, we could have some fun with this.”

  While this is very true, it’s also very wrong to fool people like that. We could get into a lot of trouble. “Emma, cut the bullshit. I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve gone off the deep end.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m perfectly fine,” she said, sounding suddenly poised.

  Oh, okay. So someone who claims they are “perfectly fine” breaks into their best friend’s hotel room and starts acting like a crazy nut job? Yeah, there was nothing perfectly fine about Emma right then.