Lovestruck in Los Angeles

by Schurig, Rachel

  “Yay.”

  Back outside I was taken with the view all over again. “I’ve never lived somewhere that wasn’t flat,” I said. “I could really get used to having hills in my back yard.”

  “It’s my favorite thing about visiting my parents in Edinburgh.”

  We found the hiking trail but paused to retrieve bottles of water and sunscreen from Thomas’s backpack before we set off. I was a sweating mess within minutes. I thanked God for small favors when I found a hair tie in my pocket and could get my mess of curls off my neck. “I’m gross,” I said, when Thomas paused to kiss the back of my bare neck.

  “If this is gross, then I like you gross.”

  We continued along the trail. My legs still burned, and I was still sweaty and probably red faced, but eventually those concerns seemed to fade away into the background. The views were too fantastic to care too much about how ugly I looked. Soon, the burn in my legs started to feel almost good—that burn was what was getting me up the crest of each hill. Every time I filled my lungs with the clear air I found I was more and more relaxed, more centered. I was outside with Thomas on a beautiful day—what did I have to complain about?

  “Wanna take a break?” Thomas asked, his breath sounding nearly as labored as my own.

  “Sure.”

  There was a bench on the crest of the hill, and we both collapsed and took long pulls from our bottles of water. “This is great,” he said, his eyes scanning the trail we’d just climbed.

  “It is. I’m surprised, actually.”

  “Because your version of exercise usually consists of strolling up and down the racks at the library?”

  I laughed. “Pretty much.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, taking it all in. Eventually, Thomas cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  I turned to him, concerned by the seriousness of his tone.

  “Your cousin called me.”

  “Sofie?”

  He nodded.

  “Sofie called you? Why? Is everything all right?”

  He nodded. “Everyone is fine.” There was a pause. “She wants you to come home for Thanksgiving. And I agree.”

  I focused on my bottle cap, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Lizzie, your family misses you. You miss them. It’s obvious.”

  “Did she happen to mention how my dad feels about this suggestion?” I knew my voice was sharp, and I tried to relax. I was not going to take any of this out on Thomas.

  “She said it shouldn’t be a big deal because Thanksgiving is at her parents’ house this year.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, totally not a big deal. My dad will still be there, Thomas. Only at my uncle’s house he won’t be able to go hide in the garage. So everyone will have to experience the awkwardness of him not talking to me.”

  “You don’t know that he wouldn’t talk to you. Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

  “The first move?” I snapped, glaring at him, my temper barely under control. “Do you know how many times I’ve called the house and asked to speak to him? Really, do you have any idea?”

  He shook his head, his face stricken.

  “At least two dozen. All autumn long, every time I called home to talk to my mom or Samuel or whoever was hanging out, I always asked to say ‘hi’ to him. And no matter who was on the phone, the response was the same. An awkward pause and then some excuse. ‘He’s working on the car.’ ‘He’s out right now.’ ‘I’ll tell him you called.’ For two months, Thomas.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it hurt so freaking bad!” I cried, too loud. My voice echoed over the hill, and I clamped my teeth shut. We hadn’t passed anyone on the trail, but I still didn’t want to be yelling in public. “It hurt my feelings, okay? And he hasn’t reached out to me once, not in all this time. So what am I supposed to do, walk right into my uncle’s house and pretend like it’s not insane that my own father won’t talk to me?”

  I felt tears threatening, and I rubbed my fists into my eyes. Damn it. Why did Sofie have to interfere? We’d been having such a nice day.

  “Do you really think he would ignore you, face to face?”

  “Thomas, he didn’t say goodbye to me.” I was crying now, there was no sense in trying to stop it. “I told them I was going back to London on a Monday, and my flight wasn’t for two days. In that time he didn’t say a word to me. We were under the same roof and he didn’t say one thing. And when I left home for good he didn’t come to the airport. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

  Thomas’s arms were around me before I could even reach for him, his strong hands rubbing soothing circles into my back. “I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I really, really am. You told me how hard it would be for you to stay with me that weekend we went to Winchester, but I never really got it until now.”

  “And now I’m all mixed up,” I said, trying to keep from full out sobbing. “Because I’m so mad at him for treating me like that. Like, furious, you know? But at the same time, I miss him so much. And I feel guilty for disappointing him.” I let out a half sob. “And it sucks.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I know.” He continued to rub circles into my back, letting me cry, until I finally felt up to pulling away.

  I rubbed my fingers under my eyes, trying to dry the remains of the tears. “I’m sorry I lost it.”

  “Please, Lizzie. I wish you had told me all of that sooner. I knew you guys weren’t talking, but I never realized how bad it was.”

  I shook my head. “The worst thing is what a tough situation it puts my mom in, you know? Because she would welcome us home with open arms. And she calls me every few days, and always takes my calls whether he’s there or not. I know she’s mad at him, and I hate putting that between them.”

  “That is not your fault.” His voice was sharp. “She should be standing up for you. It’s what’s mums do. He’s the one that’s being unreasonable.”

  “See, this is how messed up I am.” I felt like crying again. “Because I basically just said the exact same thing, but I still felt this wave of guilt when you called him unreasonable.”

  He shot me a wry smile. “Then I’m glad I didn’t say the first word that came to mind.”

  I smiled back, though I was sure it probably looked more like a grimace.

  “But what are you going to do?” He sounded concerned again. “This can’t go on forever.”

  “I know. But I don’t know how to fix it, either.” I was quiet, staring out at the hills around us. “Maybe she’ll be able to talk some sense into him. Maybe she already has. I haven’t asked to talk to him in a while. Maybe it’s time I gave it another shot.”

  “If you do that, please tell me. I hate the idea of you getting shot down like that and keeping it to yourself.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. “Well, if we’re not going to Detroit for Thanksgiving,” Thomas said, his voice bright, “we should plan something totally awesome.”

  “Totally awesome, huh? Like what?”

  “What would you think about a Vegas roadtrip?”

  I gaped at him. “Vegas?”

  “Yeah. We can drive from here, apparently. I was talking to one of the grips on the film, and he said it’s a gorgeous drive. You get there in just a few hours. We could find a nice hotel, maybe see some shows. Gamble a little.”

  I had never given Vegas a lot of thought. I wasn’t much into gambling or clubbing or any of those things that the city seemed well known for. But Vegas with Thomas? I had a feeling he could make any trip worth taking.

  “Vegas sounds perfect,” I said, a grin breaking out on my face. “We should definitely, definitely go to Vegas.”

  “Yeah?”

  I could still see concern in his eyes, but a smile was stretching across his face as well. I leaned forward and kissed him, wishing I could think of the words to thank him for what he
meant to me. The way he cared so much if I was happy. The way he tried so hard to make sure I was.

  “Definitely, yeah,” I whispered against his mouth. “If it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere.”

  Chapter Six

  We left for Vegas just after breakfast. Thomas was giddy at the prospect of driving his cool car for such a long trip; I was more excited to see the scenery along the way.

  “I think this might be the prettiest drive I’ve ever taken,” I said, staring out the window of Thomas’s car at the passing dessert. “I’ve seen pictures of it out here, and they always seemed so barren to me. But actually seeing it…this is gorgeous.”

  The flat highway stretched off ahead of us in a straight line, as far as the eye could see. We were surrounded by wide desert vistas, huge red rock formations out in the distance, the side of the road scattered with Joshua trees. It seemed to go on forever, no matter where I looked.

  “I always forget how big the States are,” Thomas said. “It’s like a completely different environment here than it is in California. Or New York.”

  “Or Michigan. You were only there in the winter, you barely got to see anything.”

  “What would you have shown me, if the weather was better?”

  I thought for a minute. “We’d go see the Great Lakes, for sure. They’re pretty incredible. And if we went up north you’d get to see all the forests, which are really beautiful. Maybe we’d go to Traverse City, see the sand dunes and the bay. Right on Lake Michigan.” I felt a sharp stab of homesickness that I tried to push away. There was no sense in thinking about home right now. We were going to Vegas.

  “What about Florida?” he asked, as if he knew I wanted to change the subject. “You’ve been there. What’s it like? California?”

  “I was really young. And we mostly stayed at Disney.”

  He scowled a little, and I laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to rub the Disney thing in your face.”

  “We need to find time to get to Disneyland,” he said, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. “Seriously. If we go home without seeing it, I’m going to be so pissed.”

  “We’ll go,” I assured him. “Though we could always go to EuroDisney when we get back to London. Take the Eurostar.” He shuddered a little, and I remembered that he was claustrophobic. He’d taken the tunnel train back from France only once and had hated every minute of it. “Or we could fly,” I said quickly.

  “It wouldn’t be the same. I want to go to Disneyland. With the palm trees and the sunshine.”

  “Okay, Thomas,” I said, turning on the voice I used when my niece and nephew were getting whiney. “We’ll go to Disneyland.”

  “And eat Mickey bars?”

  I laughed. “And eat Mickey bars.”

  “I think we’re getting close. We’ve been driving for about four hours.”

  I looked down in my lap at the guidebook he’d brought home for me. “When we pass into Nevada there’s a casino on the state line. They have a roller coaster. Wanna stop?”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind just getting there, you know? We’re going to see plenty of casinos over the next few days.”

  “True.”

  I went back to staring out the window. It really was beautiful. Almost beautiful enough for me to forget about the fact that it was the day before Thanksgiving and I wasn’t in my mom’s kitchen, helping her cook for the holiday. The day before Thanksgiving was when we made the pies and did all the prep work. For years my job had been to tear apart pieces of bread for the stuffing. We used five different kinds of bread, all home baked, to give the best flavor. If I concentrated hard enough I could smell the butter and celery sautéing in anticipation of the spicy rye bread I tore into tiny chunks—

  “Lizzie?” Thomas asked, and I turned to him. “You daydreaming? I said the casino is right there.”

  I shook my head a little, trying to clear it. Sure enough, there was a casino right there on the side of the highway. It appeared to have been plopped down in the middle of the desert. “How do they get power and water?” I wondered out loud. “It doesn’t seem like there’s anything out here.”

  Thomas shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  It wasn’t long before we started seeing more buildings along the route, which soon gave way to suburbs. “I think we’re almost there,” Thomas said.

  I felt a rush of excitement. I had always wanted to travel more, get out of my hometown. It was the main reason I had gone away to London for grad school. I had no idea what to expect with Vegas, but I knew it would be something new to see, if nothing else.

  As Thomas followed the GPS directions off the highway and toward our hotel, however, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of letdown. Maybe it was because we were approaching it during the day, but it honestly didn’t feel all that different from any city center. Lots of buildings and parking lots. When I expressed this thought to Thomas he smiled. “I think you might change your mind when you see the strip. We’re kind of driving behind all the action right now.”

  My first sight of our hotel confirmed that sentiment. A massive white marble facade surrounded the circular drive into which Thomas pulled up for the valet. “Wow,” I said, stepping out of the car and glancing up at the entrance. “This is gorgeous.”

  “A lot of the people I talked to said it was the best place to stay on the strip.” He handed his keys to the valet driver and thanked him before coming around to take my arm, our rolling suitcase in his other hand. “It’s right in the middle of everything, and it’s supposed to be pretty luxurious.”

  “I’m sure that’s why you picked it,” I said, sliding an arm around his waist. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that your favorite director shot a movie here.”

  “You figured that out, huh? What can I say, Ocean’s Eleven was awesome, and Steven Soderbergh is a god to me.”

  The lobby of the Bellagio was amazing. I had no idea if it was like this on the rest of the strip, but I was totally blown away by the wide open space inside, the smooth marble floors, the vibrant colored glass sculpture on the ceiling, and the glimpse of an indoor garden at the far end. The casino was loud and bustling, even in the middle of the afternoon, and the entire place buzzed with soft music, the thrum of conversation, and running water from the indoor fountains. As Thomas led me to the counter to check in I felt like I was at a tennis match, my head snapping back and forth between all the details I wanted to check out.

  I wasn’t really listening as Thomas checked in—until I heard the clerk say something about suite level concierge service. I shot a glance at Thomas, but he just raised his eyebrows at me.

  Sure enough, a suited hotel employee came over and introduced himself to us as a member of the concierge service. “Let me get someone for your bag,” he said, after we’d shaken hands.

  “Oh, that’s fine,” Thomas said. We were only staying for two nights and thus had only brought one carry-on size suitcase between the two of us. “I’ve got it.”

  “If you’re sure, sir,” the concierge said. “I’ll be showing you to your suite. If you have any questions or need anything at all, please let me know.”

  “Suite?” I asked Thomas as quietly as I could so the concierge wouldn’t hear me.

  “Remember you said you weren’t going to say a word about money on this trip, Lizzie. We both agreed that we needed to relax.”

  “Yeah, but you said you weren’t going to go overboard.”

  “I didn’t.”

  We reached the elevator before I could say any more.

  “You’ll need to insert your key in order to get to the upper level,” the concierge said, slipping a card into the slot on the elevator before pressing the button labeled “35.”

  I scowled at Thomas, but he merely raised his eyebrows as if he had no idea what I could be thinking.

  The concierge explained the various hotel amenities to us and the ways he could help us take advantage of them. “I can make reservations for you at any of our fine
dining establishments or for any of our shows,” he said. “We also have a wonderful spa facility that I highly recommend.”

  “Ooh, didja hear that, Lizzie?” Thomas asked, smirking at me a little. “Spa facility. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

  I shook my head at him, trying not to smile. I knew it was stupid to agree not to say anything about money during this trip. He was going to splash out at every opportunity now, just because he could.

  “Visiting the spa sounds wonderful,” I said, smirking right back. “I think you could use a pedicure for those gnarly feet of yours.”

  The concierge didn’t seem to know how to react to that, so he turned his attention to the blinking floor monitor above the door. We were climbing rapidly, but the ride was smooth—it barely felt like we were moving at all. “Ah, here we are,” the concierge said at last as the elevator doors slid open on floor thirty-five. “Your suite is right this way.”

  He opened the door and gestured us inside. I couldn’t keep from gaping.

  Okay, so in principle I was totally against Thomas spending tons of money on me. Money in general made me uncomfortable, and I usually felt out of place when surrounded by total luxury. But as soon as I saw that room, none of that mattered. It was spectacular.

  “Wow,” I whispered. We seemed to be floating above the entire city, which we could view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The entrance opened onto a sitting area, and I could make out a plush king-sized bed in the connected bedroom. The furniture was gorgeous, clearly very high-end but still comfortable looking. The centerpiece, though, was the view. It seemed to go for miles in every direction, completely unobstructed. For the first time in our relationship, I couldn’t have cared less how much it cost—the room was gorgeous and I was thrilled to be staying there.

  On an impulse, I threw my arms around Thomas’s neck. I saw his pleased but surprised look before I buried my face in his shoulder. “This is amazing,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He laughed. “You’re very welcome.”

  “It is quite a nice view,” the concierge said, smiling at us.