The Yellow Suitcase

by L. W. Clark

  The knock on the door knocked my entire body. I opened the door and saw Gilles standing there, so handsome. He was wearing a light grey dress shirt with a dark blue sport jacket and dark grey fitted pants. He smelled fresh and looked fantastic. He was standing there for a while as I held the door, and we stared at each other, speechless. I smiled and blushed. My heart was racing.

  He stepped into the room, came close to me, hugged me and kissed me on my lips, for a long time. It felt like he was holding that in for a long time. I melted. He held me tighter and pushed me against the wall. He kissed me more and touched my breast through the soft fabric. He kissed my neck slowly and went down to my breast. The wrap dress with an open cut collar was perfect for easy access. I felt his lips on my breast. I felt warm and high as he kissed me. He was hot when I touched his hair and felt his face on mine. He was back to my lips, and kissing me slowly, until he stopped and moved back.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “You look beautiful. Those lips, your breasts, your body. You’re so sexy. The dress you’re wearing. It’s quite sexy too.”

  We sat on the couch. He made a phone call as my heart’s pounding started slowing down. Room service arrived with champagne. When the waiter left, Gilles softly kissed me again. I was losing myself in him. He stopped and picked up the champagne glass.

  “Cheers,” he said, taking a drink. “Are you happy with your shopping?”

  “Very. I got beautiful clothes, shoes and bags. Thank you so much, Gilles.”

  “My pleasure. I hope I’ll see more of them tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course. I can’t wait to wear them.”

  He became serious, but he still had a smile on his face.

  “I love being with you, Alyssa. You’re such a beautiful girl and have such a great personality. What I really love is that you give me some kind of energy. I can’t explain it. But … I want to be honest with you,” he paused. “I’m in a relationship.”

  “You are?” I asked, searching for the right tone and questions. “Are you married?”

  “No, no … I’m not married,” he said with a smile. “But I’ve been in a relationship with someone for many years. I’m truly in love with him.”

  “I thought I was the one who needed to go to school for English,” I smiled. “But maybe you need to join me?”

  “What do you mean?” he smiled, taking my hand.

  “You said you’re truly in love with him, instead of her,” I said, so proud of my English.

  “It is him. And you know him.”

  What? I heard it, but it’s not sinking in. My heart is pounding so hard. All these emotions. I’m so happy being with him, and with the intimacy between us. Look at him. His face, his eyes. They look better than when we first met. I don’t want to talk about anything. I don’t care about anything. I want him. Now. I want to enjoy the joy of life. And the love he feels for me. Right now.

  I sipped some champagne and put the glass down. I took both his hands in mine and moved closer to him. I kissed him slowly. He kissed me back, more passionate than ever. He relaxed, becoming free to explore his desires with me. He touched the dress, unzipped it, and touched my body.

  I think we’re going to be late to the party.

  We made love, and it was beautiful.

  We were both calm and high as we sat together on our way to the party. We didn’t continue the conversation we started in the hotel room. After the champagne and burning so many calories from our long love-making, we were both looking forward to the party. We arrived at the house. The dinner party was outside in the backyard, with hundreds of people. We missed the cocktail hour and people were on their way to the tables for dinner.

  “What a perfect time to arrive,” Gilles said.

  “I’m starving,” we both said at the same time, and we laughed.

  Gilles was holding my hand once again. He was introducing me to everyone as his girlfriend.

  I’m his girlfriend?

  It was a lovely evening with interesting conversations and delicious food and wine. We went back to the hotel bar where Mark was waiting.

  “You look so beautiful in this dress,” Mark said. “Wait, no. Actually, the dress looks more beautiful because you’re wearing it. I love it.”

  “It’s because of you, Mark. You chose for me.”

  I gave him a big hug. After a couple of drinks, I said goodnight and went to my room.

  My head is spinning from … from … I don’t even know. I don’t want to think about anything. I don’t care about anything. I’m numb. My mind is disconnected from me. I just love it. My heart is full of joy, love and honesty.

  I felt a tingling in my entire body as I fell into a deep sense of gratitude. I drifted off to sleep in the big comfortable bed and had the sweetest dreams ever.

  The next morning, I skipped breakfast with Gilles and told him I’d meet up with him later. I had so many questions I wanted to ask him, and myself. I stayed in bed, thinking. I tried to understand what he told me, but it was hard.

  We met in the hotel lobby. He looked fresh, energized and happy. He kissed me and complimented my new outfit. I was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with a blue linen jacket.

  “Where’s Mark?” I asked. “Isn’t he joining us?”

  “No, Mark wanted to see a friend who lives nearby. He left right after breakfast. But he’ll be flying back with us.”

  We walked around the city. He showed me the White House and the Capitol. We went to the Museum of Natural History and visited the Lincoln Memorial. It was all so interesting, and great to see them with him, since he explained everything. We were out all day. We kissed and hugged. It was a day of love, knowledge and pleasure. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay with him, to be with him, in love. We went back to the hotel and up to my room.

  Flying back to New York was bittersweet. I knew my mini-vacation was over, and I wasn’t sure where things would go with Gilles. But seeing that lavish lifestyle? It motivated me to work and study harder.

  Monday morning was rough. I stayed up late doing homework. I was so sleepy at school. I wore my usual clothes at school. I didn’t want to wear my new clothes and stand out from my classmates. At lunchtime, we all went out to see an exhibition nearby. Even our teacher joined us, and we all had a good time. I was making great progress with my English. I was becoming more confident that I could understand whole conversations, most of the time.

  Gilles wanted to see me Tuesday night. Kalian never called me, so I thought (hoped) everything was all good with Anna and Michael. I met Gilles downtown. It was just one day, but I missed him. When he kissed me, I missed him even more.

  “You must be hungry. Did you eat today?” he asked.

  “I’m OK,” I said. “I had some lunch at school.”

  “Some lunch? What do you mean ‘some?’ What did you eat?”

  “I had coffee and a banana.”

  “That’s it?

  He sounds like a parent.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go have a good meal.”

  I held his arm as we made our way to Balthazar. I’ve never been to France, but from the pictures and movies I’d seen, it felt like we were suddenly in Paris. Like most people, I dreamed of seeing Paris one day, but only in a romantic way. I didn’t want to go there with my family or friends. I only wanted to go there with someone I loved.

  “Does France look like this?” I asked, “I mean Paris cafes? The atmosphere?”

  “Pretty much,” he said. “I love this place. I come here whenever I miss Paris. Have you ever been here?”

  “Never, although I’ve stared through the window a few times.”

  The food and wine were so delicious. It felt like home cooking. It was so cozy, especially with him.

  “Are you going back to work?” he asked.

  “Yes, tomorrow morning,” I said.

  “You didn’t get fired, did you? That would be fun.”

  That’s annoying.

  “Fun? Wh
at do you mean? I hope I still have my job.”

  “I’m only joking,” he said. “I meant it would be fun if you could just stay and not leave for work.”

  “I have to work.”

  What kind of joke is that? And why are we even having this conversation?

  I wanted to say more but I didn’t. I just put my head down and continued eating.

  “Please don’t be mad at me,” he said, touching my hand.

  “I’m not,” I smiled.

  “Exactly what do you do at work?”

  Now I’m getting annoyed. What’s wrong with him? This place is so comfortable and romantic. I don’t want to talk about my shitty job here.

  “I clean, iron, do laundry, cook. I take care of the kids once in a while. Why do you ask? And why do we have to talk about my job right now, especially here, together, in such a beautiful place?”

  “You’re right, and that’s exactly why I asked. All those jobs you do at work? I don’t want you to do them anymore. You don’t have to.”

  “Oh really? Why is that?”

  “I’ll provide for you.”

  What is he talking about? I thought I was honest with him about my life situation and plans.

  “Thank you, Gilles, that’s very generous, but it’s not just about me. There are people I need to take care of back home.”

  “I know, so let me make this clear. I’ll give you the money, so you don’t have to work. That’s what I mean when I say I’ll provide for you. For you and your family. This way you can go to school full time and focus on your studies.”

  I put my knife and fork down and stared into his eyes, not saying a word.

  “Please, let me do this,” he said.

  “And who are you, Gilles? What exactly do you do?”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The next morning was tough. The alarm rang at four-thirty in the morning, as usual.

  Why does the morning come so fast when I have to go to work?

  I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I moved so fast I felt woozy, probably from all the wine I drank the previous night. I was tired and sleepy, but I ignored all that and kept moving. I furiously brushed my teeth to finish quickly. I looked in the mirror, saw my face and I slowed down. Slower and slower, until I stopped brushing my teeth, and smiled.

  Ah, I don’t have to go to work. I’m done with housework for others. I’m free.

  Soon I became a full-time student. Throughout the summer and fall of 1997 I was seeing Gilles more often. I was becoming closer to him and learning more about his character, and we learned to trust each other. We were socialites at dinner and various charity events. Sometimes we would have dinner at Gilles’s with Mark, which always included too much wine and many, many laughs. I never stayed over at his place. It didn’t matter what time it was, I always went back to Brooklyn.

  It was a fun but confusing time with Gilles. He was a great lover and companion, but I knew he was in love with someone else. I never went deep into that subject with him, until we talked about my school situation and I told him that my visa would expire soon. I would have to leave and go back to my country. My English had improved, and it would give me a huge advantage for a new career back home.

  “I want you to listen to me carefully,” Gilles said.

  He held my hands as he spoke to me on a crisp November evening at the Bubble Lounge in Tribeca.

  Time for the breakup. I knew this day was coming. My heart is sinking, but I’m going to face him bravely and hold my emotions. Actually, this is good. It will motivate me even more to go back home. It’s OK. Really. I can do this.

  “I want you to marry me,” he said.

  He paused without moving his eyes from mine. He looked at me for a while, like he was trying to see through me, to read my thoughts.

  “I know we haven’t spoken about my personal life,” he said. “You’ve been very respectful in not asking me anything about anything. But I want you to know the truth, and I want to be honest. I want you to be the closest person in my life, in my everyday life. I adore you and love you. You have changed me. You have no idea what you’ve done to my life, and to me. In an incredible way.

  “I want to marry you. I know we can be very comfortable together. I need a marriage for my business and career, and for my family and other people I need to be around. Mark and I have been together for about seven years. It has always been secretive, and we’ve tried our best to be discreet so that it wouldn’t be known. Unfortunately, this is still a controversial thing today, and some people are prejudiced against a relationship between two men. It can be quite emotional on both sides. I don’t like to live this way, but I absolutely cannot announce my love for Mark because of my business. My career would end badly. My family is nice, but conservative, so I’m not honest with them either.

  “Anyway, rumors have started to spread around town about me and Mark. The looks we’ve been getting from others lately have been bizarre. It’s suffocating and uncomfortable. I screwed up a couple of times when I drank too much and showed affection to Mark in public. I’ve been denying it, but no matter how much I do, some people don’t forget and are likely to talk. Unless I can effectively cover up my orientation with a marriage, the rumors, gossip and insults will overwhelm us. If you and I get married, it would help eliminate this drumbeat of gossip. It would provide some evidence that I’m straight.

  “But this is not just about me and Mark. I want to help you. You can stay here and live freely. Because we’ll be married, you’ll be eligible to apply for papers and become a permanent resident. I can give you a wonderful life. You and your family will be worry-free. I guarantee it. We’ll live together like a husband and wife in my house. You’ll come to dinners, events and some business trips with me. You can go to school and enjoy the city. I’ll continue with my clandestine life with Mark. I will always respect you, Alyssa. And we will have a faithful, straight marriage. You’ll never hear gossip about me or ever see me out with anyone else. I promise.”

  He was confident and passionate. He was smiling, waiting for me to say something. I looked at him, my mouth open, astonished. I picked up his glass of Macallan scotch, drank the whole thing and put the glass down. My hands were shaking.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, “I don’t understand many things. I’m not sure what to say. Are you serious? Does Mark know about all this?”

  “Yes, and he’s fine. He’s fine because he loves me and will do whatever is best for me. He’s very supportive. He doesn’t want to lose me, and I don’t want to lose him. This way, we can be freer in our relationship. Why would anyone view me with suspicion when I have you? Mark said he’s fine with the marriage because it’s with you. If it were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t be happy. He loves you. He loves being around you. Please try to understand. I only ask that you take me seriously. We can have a wonderful life together.”

  I left. I was shocked, confused and excited. Somehow, I was smiling and frowning at the same time. It’s like when you watch a movie and something suddenly scares you and your face freezes—eyes and mouth wide open. I think my jaw was open for three days.

  I don’t know why but November always seems to go by quickly. It was now Christmas time, when the most beautiful colors, decorations and feelings of warmth surround the city. It was a feeling of love, life and freedom, and there I was, at City Hall.

  I was standing next to a man who was a great lover, a good person, intelligent, generous, lovable, weird and happy. A handsome, stylish, high-quality gentleman, who was one of the wealthiest people in the city. This was the man I was about to marry. We got married privately, with Mark as the witness. Gilles decided we’d get married first and announce the news later.

  My husband, Gilles? He’s originally from France and his parents still live there, in Paris. His family has been wealthy for as long as Gilles can remember. He has two sisters who also live in France and are married to French guys. His family is steeped in French culture and traditions. I mean th
ey are very, very French. It was a huge concern for them that Gilles wasn’t married, and it would be a huge disappointment to them that he didn’t marry a French girl. Their other worry was that Gilles was the only man left to carry on the family name. The parents were obsessed about Gilles getting married and having children, especially a boy.

  Gilles’s father was a diplomat, and when he was given an American assignment, the family lived in New York, where Gilles received his education. He fell in love with Manhattan and never left.

  Gilles is the founder and C.E.O. of a successful hedge fund. He is well connected with wealthy people. Businessmen, celebrities and socialites. His company is rather small, relying on a few smart people and technology to run the business. They create various economic models that are used to generate program-trading algorithms. The company’s models and funds have made a lot of people a lot of money over the years.

  Gilles is always busy, at his job and in his personal life. He is the kind of guy who is hyperactive and always doing something. He loves traveling, good food and great wine. He enjoys going to the movies and off-Broadway shows. He’s always reading, and taking long walks in parks. Any and all parks. I was all over New York City’s parks with him. The only thing he loved more than the parks was coffee. He was a coffee maniac. Parks and coffee. All very French.

  I moved in with Gilles the day after we got married. A driver picked me up in Brooklyn. Silvia cried. I promised her we would see each other often. Me and my yellow suitcase were at Gilles’s front door when I rang the bell. The door opened to a big warm welcome home for me. Party music was playing loud, Gilles and Mark were drinking champagne and dancing around. Mona was in the kitchen preparing dinner. French food, of course. I saw all the love and fun and joined the celebration. We soon wore ourselves out.

  We sat down at the dinner table and drank more champagne while we waited for Mona to finish her works of art. Everyone was happy. After dinner, Mona brought out the pièce de résistance, the napoleon. She baked it especially for me. She also made French macarons to celebrate the marriage.