The Yellow Suitcase

by L. W. Clark

  One day that spring I got an email from a woman named Rachel Beasley. Rachael wrote that we had a mutual friend from my home country. She owned an art gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona, and she wanted to get to know me. I didn’t reply to her email. But as I was thinking about a trip back home, I began to wonder who she was. How did we both know the same person? I started thinking about my family and all of my friends who I hadn’t kept in touch with. I missed them. I even dreamt about seeing them one sunny morning. It felt so real I didn’t want to open my eyes. I had these great feelings rising in my body. I felt warmth, love and joy. I saw how much fun it would be spending time with them. I could see my friends and explore my home city again, with them. I wanted to see them.

  “Gilles,” I said that evening. “When school is over this semester, I plan to go see my family. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come with me.”

  He looked at me, and then looked out the window.

  “Thanks,” he said. “That’s great, but you know … when exactly are you planning to take this trip?”

  “I was thinking sometime this summer.”

  “Summertime? Hmm…” he moved to his desk. “We have so many events this summer. I need you to be with me.”

  “I will be with you, but I’d really like to go, for at least a little while. At least a month.”

  “A month? I don’t think so. Listen, my darling, I need your help with the Hamptons house. You know, we need to prepare it for summer and make some changes to it. We’re going to be there for most of the summer. We’re booked almost every weekend, entertaining a lot of clients and friends. You know how important this is to me and my business. How about we plan on going a little later, perhaps in the fall. You haven’t seen them in years so you can wait a little bit longer, right?”

  He smiled and gave me that look.

  Damn. That look. I always say yes.

  “How about we send your family somewhere on a long summer vacation? As a gift from us. Anywhere they want to go?”

  “Thank you, that’s very nice and maybe we should do that,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I get to be with them, and it’s not just about seeing my family, it’s also about all my friends. And in the fall, I’ll be busy with school and won’t have time to travel.”

  He just stared at me, not saying a word. I left to go to my bedroom and sat down.

  Am I sad? Upset? Yes and no. I don’t get why he doesn’t understand my feelings and the importance of seeing my family and friends. Why does he act like that? Whatever the reason, that’s what it is, for now. No point in making a problem out of it.

  I just went to sleep.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Rachel Beasley. She popped in my head right after I woke up. I found her email and out of curiosity I replied. She responded right away, and we started a conversation over email. She seemed nice and interesting, simple and funny. I liked her responses, so when she asked if we could speak, I didn’t hesitate, and we exchanged phone numbers.

  I had become a rather private person, but I also thought you could take that too far. It’s good to be cautious but also open to meeting new people. Over the past few years I’ve met so many people from events with Gilles, hundreds of them. I know a lot of people, but only a few friends who I can talk to and trust on a personal level. I try to keep the right balance with them. But exchanging emails with Rachel was different. I felt a connection.

  She called me the next day. It was awkward in the beginning but soon we were chatting easily, like typical girlfriends. We talked about New York, fashion, movies and just about everything.

  “Well, we’ve been talking for a while,” I said. “If you don’t mind, please tell me why you reached out to me?”

  “You’re right, there was a reason,” she said.

  “So, who is this mutual friend?” I asked. “I’m just curious.”

  “I met Jasmine Ho recently,” she said. “We were chatting, and she mentioned you, which reminded me that I saw you and your husband on the cover of Architectural Digest.”

  “Ah yes, Jasmine. I’ve seen her at several events.”

  “Those are beautiful pictures of you and your husband. When I looked at the pictures, I recognized you right away. You look the same as you did when you were younger.”

  “Thanks, but wait. How do you know what I looked like back in the day?”

  “I’ve seen your high school yearbook pictures.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I went to college with our mutual friend.”

  “That can’t be. None of my friends came to America to go to college. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

  There was a silent pause.

  “Yes, I’m sure. You know him well. Maximillian.”

  Maximillian? Of course, Maximillian…. Yes, high school. I was shocked. My mind lit up with so many questions.

  Hey, calm down. Take a deep breath and get your act together.

  “Yes, of course. Max,” I said. “How is he?”

  “He’s doing well. He’s Chief Technology Officer at some eCommerce company. He’s married with one child. A four-year-old girl.”

  “Wow, that’s great. I’m happy to hear he’s doing well. Where does he live now?”

  “It’s funny but after college we ended up living near each other here in Scottsdale. It’s a big reason we’re still friends.”

  “What a coincidence. Wait, how did you find out he knows me? You recognized me from a picture? I’m confused now.”

  “When we were in college Max showed me pictures of when he was growing up and there were a few pictures of you. When I saw your pictures in the magazine, I recognized you right away. I have a good visual memory. He told me so many stories about you. I feel like I know you.”

  “Interesting, I’m impressed with your memory.”

  “I just thought it would be nice to connect with you since we both know Max, and I also thought we might have a mutual interest in art, since your home is so beautiful.”

  “Of course, yes. I’m glad you contacted me. I’m always happy to meet interesting people, especially artists like you. I always admire creative people. I wish I could do that.”

  “I come to New York every now and then. Maybe we can meet up?”

  “Sure, sounds good.”

  “Great. I’ll give you a call. Talk to you soon.”

  “OK, bye.”

  Maximillian. My first love. Someone I’ll never forget. What a small world. Someone was able to connect us, here in this country? I guess so. Nothing would surprise me after what I’ve been through. Even now, look at me. Most of my life has been full of surprises. I wonder what he looks like now, or what kind of person he’s become. Who’s his wife? Does his child look like him? I remember when I thought I couldn’t live without him, and all the pain I felt when we broke up. I thought my life was over. I have so many happy memories of when we were together. He was so crazy—happy crazy. I wonder if he still has that personality.

  When I think of him, I miss him. I’ve thought about him now and then, just wondering where he’s living or what he’s doing. Maybe the universe took my questions and just sent me the answers. I’m glad to hear he’s doing great, but I don’t think I want to hear more about him. We live separate lives now. We’re both doing well. If Rachael calls again, I’d rather not know any more details about him.

  “Gilles, would you like some coffee before we leave?” I asked one morning.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “Let’s grab some outside. Are you ready? We really need to go.”

  Need to go? We’re only going across the street to Central Park. He’s Type A, even when it comes to going to the park.

  After reading the newspaper and having a cup of coffee, the beautiful weather made me so relaxed and comfortable. I put my arm in his and my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes for a few minutes. But I had some things on my mind.

  “Gilles, can I ask you something?” I asked.

  “You just did,” he sai
d.

  “Why is it that every time I try to plan a trip to see my family you always want me to reschedule it to a later date?”

  “I do? How many times have I done that? It’s probably just a coincidence, you know, with scheduling conflicts.”

  “Coincidences? I don’t think so. What is it? Why don’t you want me to go? I think you should at least consider it. You know my feelings towards my family, and I haven’t seen them in years.”

  “Of course, I’m considering it.”

  “So, what is it then? We can tell each other anything.”

  “Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.”

  “I only want to go for a month. I thought I’d spend some quality time with them. Is a month too long?”

  “A month is a long time for any trip, regardless… but the truth is … it’s just that … I’m afraid you’ll go and won’t come back.”

  “What? Oh Gilles, that’s absurd.”

  “I know, I know. It sounds silly. But I’ve had thoughts you might go and feel so comfortable and happy with your friends and family, and maybe see your ex-boyfriend or who knows. Something or someone might stop you from coming back here.”

  “Gilles, you have Mark. Even if I did stay there, which I won’t, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. It’s funny though, I thought something similar. What if I come back and you don’t want me anymore?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “But it will happen. One day … we will go our separate ways. One beautiful day …”

  I hugged him so tight and spilled the rest of my coffee on his brand new, light blue scarf.

  “Cheers!” I said as we laughed.

  Rachel Beasley called and left a message. She said she just called to say hello and would like to chat again. I was glad to hear from her but at the same time I wasn’t interested in doing this best friend forever kind of thing. I just spoke with her a couple of days ago. She seemed rather aggressive. But after a couple of days, I called her back.

  “I’m so happy to hear from you,” she said.

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy the last few days and didn’t get a chance to call you back sooner.”

  “It’s all good. I just wanted to call to say hi, but another reason is … I thought you should know that Maximillian still has feelings for you. He still loves you. I thought you should know.”

  I paused, my heart accelerating.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about Rachel. It’s been such a long time since…. and… you said he’s married.”

  “Yes, he is, but he loves you.”

  “And I’m married. Remember?”

  “I know, but this has nothing to do with marriage. It has to do with love. Marriage can be one thing, one story, and a happy marriage can be another.”

  “Of course, but why are you telling me all this?”

  “Like I’ve said, Max and I have a great friendship. I know him. He regrets losing you. I asked him if he still thinks of you and he said yes, every day. As much as he’s a good husband and father, and a great person, we all want real love. I don’t know anything about your personal life, except what I’ve read, but I know about his. I wanted to share this with you, that there’s another person in this world who thinks of you, and who has feelings for you.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “I appreciate every single person who has given me even a tiny bit of attention. It’s so wonderful to hear that but … I wish him much happiness. I really do. I’m sure he’ll find real love in some way, with someone else. Thanks Rachel, I need to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Summer 2001, Southampton, NY

  My head and body were aching. It took a lot of work, but the Hamptons house was ready to go. Ready for a busy summer with lots of guests and parties. The large house looked beautiful, with fresh paint, beautiful decorations and surrounded by colorful fresh flowers. It smelled like summer and felt lively.

  The twin gabled house was white on the outside, with dark blue trimming and a dark grey roof. The first floor was all open, with a large foyer flowing into a sitting area, and a staircase to the right that led to the second floor. A step down from the sitting room was the dining room, which looked out on large paneled glass doors that opened onto a large outdoor area with more than enough space for entertaining. At the far end of the outdoor area, it was a few steps down to the infinity pool, which overlooked the ocean near the edge of the property. To the right of the sitting and dining rooms was an open, large gourmet kitchen with all the latest appliances, and to the left was a large living room with all the electronics and a Steinway baby grand. The living room also opened up to the space outside. All the walls were painted with soft pastels, some with wide, two-toned strips that looked like wallpaper. The floors were finished with a light beige Italian stone from Tuscany. All the furniture was modern chic, with an emphasis on simplicity and comfort.

  As you reached upstairs, there was another sitting area, with large glass doors that opened out to a balcony, with a view of the outdoor area and the ocean. All five bedrooms were upstairs, each with its own bathroom.

  Summer in the Hamptons was all about fun. All the Type A personalities seemed to soften around here. Maybe summer does that to them. Maybe the weather warms their hearts and minds. Maybe the free time makes them calmer, at least for a little bit.

  These wealthy people could easily afford to take the whole summer off and completely relax but they didn’t. While they’re kind of vacationing in their beautiful houses, they still take business calls and travel here and there on business trips. That’s their lifestyle. They never relax completely. It would be boring for them. It’s fascinating that they want more. More business, more money, more power. There’s never enough.

  We scheduled all the events. Cocktail parties, dinners and some charity events. One of the largest events was a big family dinner, when Gilles’s entire family visited for a few days. Other events were with friends and business colleagues.

  One Friday evening I got a call that no one ever wants. Mark was in a car accident while driving out to the Hamptons. All they told us was that Mark was in the hospital. I didn’t know his condition. I was on my way to the hospital when I thought about his parents’ car accident.

  I saw Gilles sitting in the hospital lobby with his head down. I was afraid to reach him. I didn’t want to hear any bad news. I sat down right next to him without saying anything. He didn’t say anything to me either, for quite a while.

  “He’s alive, thank God,” he said finally. “He’s going into surgery. He has internal bleeding and a broken arm and leg.”

  “Thank God. They can stop the bleeding, and broken bones can heal,” I said as I hugged Gilles.

  I saw his tears on the floor, and I cried.

  We stayed at the hospital until they let us see Mark. Mark’s right arm and left leg were wrapped in casts. While we were standing at his bedside, Mark slowly woke up and looked at us through glassy eyes.

  “Hey, are you two OK? “he whispered. “You both look so scary. I’m not dead yet. Am I?”

  “No, not yet,” Gilles said. “But if you ever do that again, I’m going to kill you.”

  Mark started to laugh but it hurt too much.

  “Stop,” he said. “You’re killing me now.”

  Mark stayed in the city all summer. He wasn’t able to get around much and he needed a lot of help. He stayed home with his housekeeper, who helped him during the day. She took great care of him, like he was her son. I visited him at least twice a week. I needed to be there for him. He was family. We would have lunch or dinner, and of course, he would tell his great, funny stories. I’d comb his hair and give him a homemade facemask so he could still have a fresh and healthy look. Gilles stopped by whenever he could.

  One weekend we hosted a dinner party in the Hamptons for business friends and their spouses. Drinks were flowing, and the crowd became louder as they hung out by the pool. I thought about Mark and felt sorry for him. He
had to spend his summer in those heavy casts mostly by himself while we were enjoying ourselves on a beautiful summer evening.

  “Are you OK? You seem a little out of it,” said Tom, one of Gilles’s business friends. Before I could even answer, he took his phone out and turned away.

  I saw Tom a few times here and in the city. He rented a summer house every year. He was much younger than Gilles, I’d say around thirty-five. But he looked mature for his age. His face and eyes had that sad, old look. He was one of those Wall Street guys who were always stressed from work. Always checking his phone for the latest crisis that would divert his attention, and he’d make a call with a gloomy face.

  Tom and Gilles seemed to get along well. Gilles would have long conversations with him. It seemed like smart, older people like to hear from smart, younger people to take in their energy and get new ideas about business.

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I had to make an urgent call. I have to leave shortly after dinner since I promised some friends I’d stop by their party. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  “Thanks, but no, not right now.”

  Tom would always approach me at these parties to say hello and ask if I needed a drink. If I had a drink he would watch until it was almost gone and ask if I needed a refill. I think he’s always been friendly with me because his age was closer to mine than others in the crowd. He would joke a little and give me compliments. He was kind of like, “stay closer to me than any of these other dudes.”

  “You look great, as always,” he said.

  Another compliment, right on time.

  “Thanks.”

  “This summer the house looks even better because of you. You make it look better.”