by Ann Mauren
Chapter 36
I wanted my last moments with Gray to be peaceful and pleasant. So I pretended like there had never been any course altering upset between us. It was easy to play sick. I felt that way. Tears were poised to break out any second, lending credibility to the pain I was supposed to be having.
He was so sweet and solicitous that I nearly aborted my plan. It was unbelievably pleasant to have someone so smart and handsome and amazing waiting on me hand and foot like a slave—a very enamored slave. I was an easy mistress. I only required that he keep my water glass full and cold and that he rub my feet. The later assignment was more for his benefit than my own, but I made the best of it. Besides, it gave him something useful to do.
Depending on the answer to my question for the lady at the front desk, I’d be leaving in a few minutes or tomorrow sometime. I sent Gray on an errand down the hall to see if there was any cranberry juice in the vending machine. Once he was gone I made the call.
“Hi. If I needed to ship a box home when would that go out?”
“The mail is picked up at noon. UPS picks up at ten and Fed-Ex at nine. You can bring your package to the business center located just off the lobby, or request a bellman to pick it up.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Gray was incredibly fast. He was walking back in the door just as I’d put down the receiver. He had a bottle of cranberry juice for me, which I now had to drink, even though I hated that stuff. I scheduled two bathroom breaks around the rapid bursts of consumption (by the toilet) of what I considered to be the bitterest of widely available red colored fruit juices—though I would have consumed it gladly if my illness were real.
So according to the front desk lady, I had until about ten tomorrow morning. That was good. It was a relief not to rush. Being cared for like this by Gray for a few more hours wouldn’t kill me. It could make me change my mind, though, and in the end that might be worse.
I knew I was giving him the wrong impression and being horribly selfish at the same time. But I wanted to see him happy, and he was definitely that.
I let him rub my feet for about an hour while we watched a talk show. The host was one of my very favorite celebrities, but his sidekick, Andy, was even higher up on my list of people I loved. When Gray pressed for more I explained that it had to do with understatement, and the fact that, in my opinion, Andy had the best off screen laugh I’d ever heard. Kind of like a soloist in front of the choir that was the studio audience.
Just like always, Gray was amused by my strange preferences and the reasoning behind them. He never seemed to tire of squeezing my feet and toes and I wondered exactly how long he would have kept at it if I hadn’t pulled away to go to the bathroom. While I was in there, the room service food came, so I just hung out until they were gone, since I had my pajamas on by that point.
Gray ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and I had grilled cheese. He’d laughed at me when I asked for that, but I explained that it was my idea of comfort food. Interestingly, my platter came with a juice box and smiley face potatoes. This was a great source of amusement to him as he pulled off the lids and examined the differences in the plate presentations of our meals. And like the thoughtful and overly indulgent lover he was, he’d had another Paul Bunyan style Chocolate Cake dessert sent up, especially for me. He didn’t fight fair at all.
After dinner he brought out the really big guns.
“Ellie, can I brush your hair?”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I knew feeling that good and relaxed around him was a calculated risk—any form of sedation in his presence would be. But I was certain he already had whatever he was planning for me all calculated out to perfection anyway, and given my pretend medical condition, the danger seemed remote.
So I agreed. Peaceful and pleasant. Why not?
It was different having a man I loved brush my hair. It was extremely sensual and at the same time very relaxing. I was sitting on the floor in front of the couch and he sat behind me on the cushions, brushing through my still fairly damp hair—I hadn’t bothered drying it after a long shower. So the brushing felt good, but it wasn’t as smooth as it would have been with soft dry hair.
After a while I suggested that he just rub my head instead, an idea that was received with great enthusiasm as he drew me closer to facilitate my request. I lay stretched out on the couch, with my back to him and my head resting on his chest, while his hands moved through my hair and along my scalp, down my neck and out across my shoulders. It was the most relaxing and enjoyable thing I’d ever experienced.
This is how it could be. What’s wrong with this? Peaceful and pleasant.
I drifted off to sleep uncertain of who I was or what I wanted.
My peaceful passage into nighttime sleep smoothly transitioned into peaceful dreams. One dream was a recurring vision, or really a memory, because it was like watching a movie of something that really happened. I always enjoyed this dream, though I was sure I hadn’t had this one since before Grandpa had passed away.
I was ten years old again. I was with my dad on a date at Applebee’s. Being on a date had led into a discussion about the future and about my getting married someday.
Dad said, “Being single is like being the captain of our own plane. You can fly anywhere you like. And that’s great, especially if you enjoy being in charge and doing whatever you want. But if you fall in love and decide to get married someday, you’d better make sure the man you marry is good enough to be a captain. Because just like in a real jet, you can only have one captain and one co-pilot, and if they argue about where they’re going or how to fly, what can happen?”
“They could crash?”
“That’s right. I want you to be happy and get where you’re going without any crashes in your life. So make sure you choose a good captain, one you can trust with the direction of your life and someone who’ll always treat you like a partner. Will you promise to do that?”
“I promise. I’m going to find someone just like you, Dad.” I announced in perfect sincerity.
He liked that. It was one of the last heart to heart conversations we ever had.
It was a mental love letter from my dad, playing in my mind precisely when I needed to see and hear it. Even in my sleep I was working out what I needed to do and why it was so important.
When I awoke it was to that scopophobic sensation. I opened one eye and then the other. Gray was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. He laughed softly and greeted me with a wonderful warm smile.
I love you, I thought to myself. Too bad I’m leaving today.
Then I sat up straight, slightly alarmed because it looked very well into daytime time outside the window. I turned to look at the clock.
Five after nine. Shoot!
Gray watched all of this play out and asked, “Are you going to be late for an appointment?”
Yes, as a matter of fact.
“I need to get up,” I said in a crackly first voice of the day, heading into the bathroom.
After splashing and drying my face, I tied my hair back in a ponytail and put on some blush for color in my cheeks, a few quick swipes of waterproof mascara and a stroke of lip gloss. I had things staged for departure under the counter. Inside my daypack, which was a decent size, I’d placed couple of fresh, tightly rolled outfits and undergarments. Also stuffed inside were my toiletry bag and a few of the Lush bath bombs I hadn’t gotten to yet. My wallet and passport and cell phone were jammed in outside pouches. The memory card—holding digital copies of my memories—from the new camera was securely wrapped in Ziplocs and tucked in an inner compartment. For good measure I pulled out a huge wad of tissues and shoved them down inside an open pouch as well. On top was the blue ball cap with the Kahurangi National Park Logo given to me by a pretend Kiwi. I zipped the daypack shut and walked out.
Gray looked up from the TV as I stepped back into the room. Appraising my fully dressed and shoed appearance, he said, “Ellie, maybe
you should take it easy today. We can have some breakfast sent up and just…hang out this morning. I think you need a little more time to recuperate.”
His tone was very persuasive. I sighed in response.
“I don’t want to sit around here, Gray. I’ll just end up thinking more about it, and that will make me feel worse. I think I need to get away…for awhile.”
Every word was true, but it had nothing to do with having a U.T.I. I continued with my plan.
“So there was a music box in the gift shop that I saw the other day. I was thinking it might make a nice present for my mom. I want to go down and see if it’s still there, and then see if I can get it shipped to her today.”
He was waiting for me on my couch, long since dressed and ready to go.
“Okay. I figured as much. We have plans with Dad at ten. That should give you enough time. Are you ready to go now?”
Forever? I don’t know. I thought so last night, but now that I’m here about to go through with it…
“Yes. I’m ready.”
I could feel the emotion swelling. I bit back on it. I was already at the door and Gray turned off the TV as he crossed the room to where I was. I was blocking the way deciding on the precise wording of my farewell speech. He looked at me, waiting for me to say whatever it was I was thinking. I breathed deep and said, “Thank you so much, for everything. You’ve been so good to me, much better than I deserve.”
The emotion was seeping through.
He looked a little concerned as he put his hands on my shoulders.
“Of course. It’s my pleasure. Being good to you is the best part of my life. And you’re the most deserving creature imaginable.”
I bet you won’t feel that way in an hour from now…
“I wish that was true. Maybe someday you’ll find the perfect girl for you.”
I had to have the courage to look him in the eyes. He deserved that much. He was still a little unsure about where I was coming from or going to with this, but he joked and said, “Well, until then, you’ll do nicely.”
And he kissed me. It was soft and sweet and heartbreakingly romantic.
“Until then,” I agreed with a smile, after he’d released me, eyes moist but not leaking. Then I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
