by Cyndi Myers
“Travis and I were married here, did I tell you?” Alice said. “Not in this hotel, of course, but in Vegas.”
“No.” I wondered what had prompted her to mention this now.
“We wanted a quickie wedding and Vegas seemed the right place.”
“A lot different from your Amish honeymoon,” I said, staring up at the elaborate fresco overhead.
She nodded. “Vegas was loud and flashy and exciting. We drank and gambled and generally had a good time, but I think what we were really trying to do was run away from our own guilt.”
She glanced at me. “I thought I’d succeeded for a while, but it never really left, and it tainted our relationship.”
“Because you felt bad about leaving Bobby?”
She nodded. “I loved Travis, but it wasn’t enough. Who would have thought guilt would be more powerful than love?”
Right. Who would? I took a big drink. “Let’s not think about that now,” I said. “We’re here to have fun.”
“Yes, we are.” She was smiling again, even if the expression was a little forced. “Let’s check out the slot machines.”
For the next two hours we flitted from one machine to the next, trying our luck. I favored the ones that were more like video games, with bonus rounds and lots of action to keep things interesting even when I wasn’t winning much.
Alice was a more serious gambler, lingering at traditional one-line machines, feeding them quarters and yanking down the handle with robotic precision.
After a while the allure of the machines faded and we headed for the ticket office to try to score seats to a show that night. We quickly learned we’d waited too late, so we settled for tickets for the next night.
We went upstairs to check on Cocoa and sneaked her out a side door to an alley for a potty break. When she was settled once more, I turned to Alice. “What now?” I asked.
“Dinner. One thing about Vegas—you can eat cheap.”
We ended up at a crowded buffet. Alice’s choice, not mine, but I didn’t bother arguing. When I was overweight, buffets were heaven. Everyone expects you to pile your plate full at a buffet, so I never felt self-conscious about the amount I ate. Just remembering those days was enough to help me keep my portions small now.
Alice didn’t take much advantage of the bounty, either. No wonder she was so skinny. I hadn’t seen her eat a complete meal yet.
We found a table next to a family with two children—a boy and a girl I guessed were around eight and six. The whole family was dressed in shorts and T-shirts, with wheat-blond hair and blue eyes. They could have stepped right out of a brochure that advertised Vegas as the perfect family vacation destination.
I was about to say this to Alice when I noticed her staring at the family, a troubled expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you know them?”
She shook her head and turned her attention back to her plate, but I noticed her gaze kept straying to the table whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.
I ate my sugar-free gelatin and tried not to take Alice’s sudden glumness personally. This wasn’t exactly the glamorous, high-rolling trip to Vegas I’d fantasized about. Where were the champagne, the gambling winnings and handsome men in tuxedos?
I was probably just tired. I was about to suggest we turn in early when Alice shoved her plate aside and stood. “Let’s get out of here. We’re in Vegas, dammit. We should see the sights!”
After the air-conditioned chill of the hotel, the Vegas night felt soft and warm around us. The liquid colors of blue, gold, orange and green neon spilled onto the street and sidewalk and crowds jostled for position like spectators at a Mardi Gras parade.
“Where is everyone going?” I asked as we were pushed along with the throng.
“Let’s find out,” Alice said.
We found ourselves in front of the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino, pressed against what appeared to be a huge lagoon. “Look!” Alice pointed toward a full-size ship sailing toward us. “Pirates!”
For the next quarter hour we watched, mesmerized, as pirates battled a group of seductive sirens. With music, sword-play and acrobatics, the show had something for everyone.
From Treasure Island, we followed the crowd to the Mirage, where a volcano erupted in a spectacular display of color, light and noise. Definitely the thing to wake me up.
“I’m glad you suggested we get out of the hotel,” I told Alice. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss all this.”
“Hmm.” She looked up and down the street, distracted.
“Let’s walk down this way,” she said, and headed off at a fast clip.
I rushed to keep up with her. We headed north up the Strip, away from the newer resorts toward old downtown Vegas. Alice walked quickly, cutting through the crowd, never pausing to look left or right. “Where are we going?” I asked, a little breathless.
“There’s someplace I want to see.”
The crowd was thinner at this end of the Strip. We passed fewer families and obvious tourists and more less-prosperous-looking individuals. I noticed more dark corners and shady alleys and began to feel nervous. “Maybe we should turn around,” I said. “I don’t feel safe down here.”
“Don’t worry.” She patted her purse. “I have my gun.”
I didn’t find this as reassuring as she probably intended. I clutched my own purse tightly to my side and kept an eye out for anyone who seemed suspicious. Unfortunately I’d spooked myself enough that everyone looked suspicious, from a waiter taking a smoke break in an alley to a man in a dark suit who was hailing a cab.
Alice slowed as we neared the starlit exterior of the Riviera. She stared up at the sparkling facade. “This is where Travis and I spent our honeymoon,” she said.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was beginning to realize that an important part of this whole journey for Alice was revisiting significant places from her past.
We stepped into the lobby. Less opulent than some of the newer super-resorts, the Riviera had a retro feel. It was easy to imagine sixties movie stars and high rollers emerging from the elevators or congregating in the bar.
I glanced at Alice. She was looking around, but I had a feeling she wasn’t seeing the Riviera today, but rather the hotel of her younger days. “Has it changed much?” I asked.
“Some.” She ran her hand along the back of a sofa. “I’d never been to Vegas before then, so everything was impossibly glamorous. Not to mention all I wanted to do when we were here was get Travis upstairs and take our clothes off.”
“He was that hot, huh?”
“Almost too hot.” She walked over to a display of photos of past famous guests and studied it. “I think part of our problem was that the whole relationship was based on sex. We couldn’t get enough of each other in the beginning. When that stage passed…” Her voice trailed off and her expression grew distant again.
She turned away from the photos and started across the lobby again. “I need another drink,” she said. “Let’s go to the bar.”
“Not here.” I grabbed her arm and held on. “Let’s go back to the Venetian.” She’d been drinking all afternoon, taking advantage of the free cocktails the waitresses brought to gamblers. Though she was still steady on her feet, if the liquor really hit her I wanted her close to the room.
“I don’t want to walk all the way down the Strip just to get a damn drink,” she said, trying to break free of my grip.
I wouldn’t let go. “We can take a taxi. Then we won’t have as far to go after we drink.”
She saw the sense in this and nodded. “Okay.”
We hailed a taxi and climbed in, and ten minutes later were back in the lobby bar at the Venetian. I ordered a Diet Coke, while Alice asked for a dirty martini.
She drained the first drink with alarming speed and ordered another. I wanted to tell her to take it easy, but was reluctant to start a fight.
When the waitress brought the second drink, Alice took a big swallow. “It’s not t
hat I like them so much,” she said when she noticed me staring at her. “It’s just so much fun to order.” She giggled a little. That’s when I knew for sure she was drunk.
“After this drink, why don’t we go back up to the room and relax,” I said as I followed Alice to a table in a dim corner of the bar. I really was exhausted and figured she was, too.
“Why would you want to do that?” she said, her tone belligerent. “This is Vegas. Party city. No one goes to bed early here.”
“I guess I’m just not much of a party person,” I said. “All the noise and lights and…and the artificialness…are getting to me.”
“Don’t be silly. The night is young.” She took a sip of her drink, then her face crumpled. “The night is young, but I’m not anymore.”
Then she started to cry.
I stared at her, unsure what to do. I leaned toward her, my voice low. “Alice, honey, please don’t cry.” I took her hands in mine and squeezed them. I hated to see her in such distress. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Maybe I can help.”
She shook her head. “No one can help me. I screwed up my life and it’s too late now.” A new wave of sobs overtook her. “I never should have left Bobby.”
“Oh, honey.” I squeezed her hands again. “Does he know you’re still in love with him? Maybe if you told him—”
“No! I told you I don’t care about him anymore.”
I drew back. “I remember you said that. And that you were going back to California to ask his forgiveness. Maybe once you’ve done that you can let this go.”
“Not his forgiveness.” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin, smearing her mascara.
“Then whose?” I asked, puzzled.
She choked back another sob. “I need to ask my children to forgive me.” She buried her face in her hands and rocked back and forth in her chair. “I don’t see how they ever can.”
I stared at her, my stomach heaving. “Children?” Alice had never mentioned children before now. “I…I didn’t know.”
“I don’t have the right to call them my children. I gave that up when I walked out on them to go with Travis.” She shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Can you believe a mother could be so cold? I abandoned my babies to chase after some man.”
I stared at her and tried hard to regain my equilibrium. “How old were they?” I whispered.
“Tina—Bettina—was eight. Clark was six.” She sniffed. “I haven’t spoken to them in almost ten years.”
“Why not? Why didn’t you call?” I took a deep breath, fighting a surge of anger.
“I was too ashamed. I know they hate me. I don’t blame them. I hate myself.” She buried her head in her arms on the table and cried.
I stared at her, torn between sympathy and disgust. How could Alice do such a thing?
Then I thought of things I’d done that were wrong, mistakes I’d made and words I’d said that I wished I could take back. I reached over and patted Alice’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said.
“It’s not okay.”
“No, what you did wasn’t okay, but it’s done. You can’t change it now. All you can do is go back and tell them how sorry you are and work on building a relationship with them. It’s not too late for that.”
She raised her head and stared at me, hope grappling with despair in her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t. Not really. But I know you’re a good person at heart. You could be a good friend to your children.”
“How can you say that after I’ve told you what I’ve done?”
“We’ve all done bad things,” I said. “The hardest part isn’t asking others to forgive us. It’s learning to forgive ourselves.”
I got Alice up to bed, where she all but passed out, then I took Cocoa out again. I watched the little dog sniff around the trash cans in the alley. My earlier exhaustion had fled, leaving me too wired to sit still, but I didn’t want to return to the lights and noise of the casino.
I took out my cell phone and tried to call Martin, but was only able to reach his voice mail. I hung up without leaving a message. What would I say? I’m lonely and depressed and I need you to cheer me up? I didn’t want him to know I was that needy.
I looked at the dog. “Want to go for a walk, Cocoa?” I asked.
She wagged her tail wildly at the familiar word and we set out in search of fresh air and some kind of peace, both rare commodities on the crowded streets of Sin City.
We walked down the sidewalk and I looked for some likely retreat. The neon-lit hotels were too bright and gaudy, the casinos too noisy. Everywhere I turned I saw people who were smiling too brightly and laughing too much, trying too hard to have a good time.
When I came upon a small white church, I ducked inside. Apparently churches, like everything else in this town, never closed. If anyone said anything about the dog, we could leave, but until then I wanted the chance to sit in relative quiet and think.
The sanctuary was tiny, with a half-dozen wooden pews and a simple blue carpet. Arrangements of white gladiolas flanked a white pulpit and a simple gold cross hung on the wall behind this. I stared at the cross and prayed for calm to slow my racing heart.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in. Are you wanting the deluxe package or the Saturday-night special?”
I started and turned to see Elvis walking toward me. This Elvis had the expected white sequined jumpsuit and thick black pompadour hairdo, but his face was weathered and wrinkled, and he studied me from behind thick-lensed glasses. Grandpa Elvis.
“Excuse me, what did you say?” I asked.
“Did you want the deluxe wedding package? It comes with a video and a floral bouquet you can keep.” He looked around the otherwise empty room. “Will the groom be arriving shortly?”
“Groom? Oh no, I didn’t come here to get married!” I laughed, amused that for the second time in a week I’d been mistaken for a would-be bride. I stood to leave.
“No, you don’t have to go.” He waved me back down and took a seat beside me. “It’s a slow night.” He smiled at Cocoa and reached out to scratch behind her ears. “So if you didn’t come in here to get married, why did you come in here?”
I pressed my lips together, debating answering. Why should this stranger care about me or what was happening in my life?
But then, I’d had more practice at trusting strangers this trip—Ruth and Martin, and even Alice who, though she’d been a dear friend to me at one time, was in many ways a stranger, as I’d discovered tonight. “I just wanted somewhere quiet. To think,” I said.
He nodded and looked up at the cross. “This is a good place for that. The world out there can get a little hectic.”
“Are you really a preacher?” I asked.
“Got a license on the wall back there that says I am.” He grinned again, a friendly, open smile as down-home as a grandpa should be. “Next you’re going to ask me what’s with the Elvis getup.”
I nodded. “How does a preacher end up in Vegas as an Elvis impersonator?”
“How does anybody end up anywhere? I came here in 1974 to get a divorce and ended up staying. This place grows on you.”
“I don’t think it would grow on me.”
“It’s not for everybody, I guess. So where is home, young lady?”
Again, I hesitated. But his grandfatherly concern—coupled with his ridiculous costume—broke through my normal reticence. “I live in California. Bakersfield. I’m not sure it’s home, though.” I smoothed my hands down my thighs. “I think I’m still trying to find the place where I fit.”
“Now see, you’re looking at it all wrong.” He angled his body more toward me. “You’re looking for the space where you fit in like you’re a puzzle piece and only one certain slot will do. What you need to do is make a space for yourself. Understand the difference?”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“You find where you want to be, then you make it fit you, see?�
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“That’s what you did?”
He nodded. “That’s what I did.” He looked around the chapel once more. “This life ain’t for everybody, but it suits me. You got to find what suits you. That might mean trying on a few places first.”
He made it sound easy, like buying a dress. “I’m good at shopping around,” I said.
“Then you won’t have any problem.” He patted my knee and stood. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“No. Thank you.” I stood and Cocoa and I followed him toward the exit. “Good night.”
“Good night. You come back when you find that groom. I’ll fix you up real nice.”
I smiled as I walked back to the hotel. Grandpa Elvis made life sound a lot less daunting, as if happiness was just a matter of tailoring the circumstances and situation to fit, the way you’d alter a suit.
And maybe he wasn’t so far off at that. I’d been looking for the place that was perfect for me, but I wasn’t perfect, so why should I expect a place to be? Maybe the idea was to find a place whose imperfections fit my own, and work on improving both at the same time.
“Are you okay?” I asked Alice as we stood in yet another buffet line for breakfast the next morning.
“Yeah. Just a little hungover.” Her smile was sheepish. “I promise you I don’t do that sort of thing often.”
“No harm done.” Our eyes met. “It’s going to be okay,” I said.
“I hope so.”
We decided to get out and see some of the sights of Las Vegas, so after settling Cocoa in the room and hanging the do-not-disturb sign on the door we once again joined the throngs on the sidewalks. The sun beat down like a giant tanning lamp and the heat was a physical weight pressing against us, but it didn’t seem to affect attendance at the fountains at Bellagio.
We stood and watched along with everyone else, taking respite in various boutiques, coffee shops and casinos along the Strip.
We passed the wedding chapel I’d visited the night before, and I told Alice about Grandpa Elvis.
“I think an Elvis wedding would be fun,” she said. “It’s probably a good sign if a marriage starts off with a sense of humor.”