by Lacey London
Putting down my now empty glass, I wander outside to the balcony and breathe in the warm air. It may be almost midnight, but the bar below is still in full swing. I watch a group of happy holiday makers laughing and clinking glasses, as the water splashes happily on the sand behind them. The lovely chirping of crickets provides a beautiful white noise to the picture perfect scene. Happy, holiday bliss.
If Mexico looked pretty in the daytime, the dark of night really brings out something special. The normally turquoise waters are now a shimmering sheet of black under the moonlight and the roaring waves have resorted to a gentle sigh, making the whole beach feel a million times smaller than it was just a few hours earlier. You almost feel cocooned by the darkness, safe in it’s warm shadows.
‘Are you sure you don’t want this last brownie? I’m not gonna ask again?’ Oliver stumbles out on the balcony and wafts the gooey treat under my nose.
‘Definitely sure. You knock yourself out.’ Slipping my arms around his neck, I watch him demolish the cake in one huge bite. ‘I wouldn’t mind a refill though? Is there any more wine?’
Shaking his head, he leans against balcony wall. ‘I think we’re all out. I’ll go down to the bar and grab another bottle.’
‘You don’t need to do that, just phone down for one.’
‘I honestly don’t mind. Besides, I could do with stretching my legs a little.’ Planting a chocolaty smacker on my lips, he disappears back into the room.
Hearing the hotel room door clunk shut, I take a final breath of sea air before tip toeing into the bathroom and filling the bath with bubbles. As the hot water splashes into the tub, I search the many cabinets for complimentary toiletries. It doesn’t take me long to find a whole drawer of them. Lotions, potions, even a tiny basket of beautiful, red rose petals. Suddenly feeling rather romantic, I grab the basket and run over to the bed.
Making a pretty trail of petals from the bed to the bathroom door, I dim the lights and dig out my phone for some music. Scrolling through the music folder, I settle on Adele and hit play. Looking around at my handy work, I feel quite pleased with the result. What a difference a handful of petals can make! Realising that he should be back at any moment, I whip off my PJ’s and crawl into the giant tub. Who says romance is dead?
Looking down at my now wrinkled fingers, I shake my head in annoyance. This water is freezing! Where the hell is he? It must have been at least an hour since he left, it can’t take that long to fetch a bottle of bloody wine. We are right above the bar for God’s sake!
Frustrated, I grab a fluffy towel from the hand rail and stomp out of the bathroom, leaving a path of damp footprints in my wake. So much for the romantic bubble bath. He should have known that I would be planning a spur of the moment surprise. Aren’t men supposed to be mind readers?
After tugging on a fresh pair of pyjamas, I take my phone and crawl under the bed sheets. Calling Oliver’s number, I wait for the foreign dial tone, only to discover his mobile phone vibrating loudly on the dressing table, along with the room key. Great, not only has he decided to ditch me, he has ditched me without his key. Throwing back the covers, I swap my comfortable PJ’s for a jersey dress and stuff the room key into my pocket, along with his mobile phone. He might have found something more entertaining in the bar, but no one wakes me up and gets away with it.
Striding down the marble lobby, I follow the sound of soft music down the spiral staircase until I find myself in the bar. Considering it is way after midnight, there isn’t a spare seat in the room. I weave between the bar stools and glass tables in search of Oliver. Banging my knee on an almost invisible chair, I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out in pain. Why does it have to be so bloody dark in here? Who made the rule that humans can’t dance with the lights on? I take a couple of steps towards the dance floor and bat away an overly excited, rather drunk Russian man. He definitely isn’t here.
A little puzzled, I make my way back out of the bar before having one last check over my shoulder. Suddenly a little worried, I take a seat near the lifts and fiddle anxiously with a coaster. I hope everything’s OK. I mean, you hear about things like this all the time, don’t you? Man goes to get wine, man doesn’t come back, man ends up chopped into little pieces and being served in the local kebab shop. Oh, God! I’m going to end up on the news!
Taking a few deep breaths, I chastise myself for always jumping to the worst case scenario. Let’s think rationally about this. Chances are, he came down to the bar, bumped into his parents and perhaps went back to their room for a drink or whatever. Yes, that is most likely what has happened.
Sliding out of my seat, I am about to head for the stairs when I spot Erica snuggled into a plush booth towards the back of the room. Not being able to resist saying hi, I make my way over. Secluded by the darkness, it is difficult to see who she is chatting with, but the closer I get I can clearly see that it is not LP.
As I approach the booth, I hear Erica purring with laughter and my lips automatically stretch into a smile. The music steps up a notch as bright strobe lights flash around the room, providing me with a moment’s insight into the mystery guest.
Is that? No! It can’t be! It is!
It’s Oliver.
Chapter 30
Ducking behind a pillar, my heart begins to pound in time to the music. I take another peek into the booth, just to confirm what I already know. What is going on? He hates Erica! Oliver’s cheeks are red and his shirt is unbuttoned a little too much for my liking. Looking down into his empty glass, he shakes his head as Erica takes his hand and holds it to her chest. A wave of nausea washes over me and I feel physically sick. I actually can’t believe what I am seeing and worse, I can’t hear a word that they are saying. Taking a menu from an adjacent table, I hide my face and slip into the booth opposite.
Straining my ears against the thudding music, I try to listen in to their conversation.
‘...doesn’t understand you like I do...’
‘...never forget you...’
‘...you amaze me...’
‘...what do you see in her...’
‘...not right for me...’
‘...love you...’
I drop the menu on the floor and flee from the bar as bile rises in my throat. How could he do this to me? How long has this been going on? Did he know she would be here? Why did he want me to meet his parents if he was having an affair? A million questions whirl around my mind as I run up the staircase as fast as my legs will carry me. Fumbling in my pocket for the room key, I buzz open the door and run straight into the bathroom as the mountain of room service I consumed earlier makes a break for freedom.
Wiping my mouth, I rest my sweaty forehead on the cold porcelain. I feel like I have been run over. This cannot be happening to me. Pushing myself to my feet, I splash cold water on my face and take a few deep breaths. Have I really just caught Oliver cheating on me? My wonderful, amazing, beautiful Oliver? I need to get out of this room. Tossing my passport, phone and a handful of clothes into my handbag, I take one last look around the hotel room and make my way to lift.
The second I jab the shiny button, the doors ping open. Staring in the mirror as I ride down to the ground floor, I realise that weirdly, I don’t feel upset. There are no tears, I don’t look sad. I just feel empty, ill almost, as though I am getting over some terrible ailment.
Striding through Reception, I march straight outside to the taxi rank, clutching my only bag with everything I have. After asking the driver to take me to the nearest hotel, I slide onto the back seat and look out of the window as we pull away from the hotel. Whizzing through the palm trees, I watch the moonlight bounce off the sea until we come to an abrupt stop outside a huge, terracotta building.
I slip the driver a handful of pesos and heave my bag up onto my shoulder, before begrudgingly making my way inside. The hotel has a naturalistic theme, with earthy tones and wild life imagery on every wall. In any other situation, this would be a very nice place to stay. It seems a whole
lot quieter than the hotel I have just fled from, but if it is away from Oliver and his over inflated mistress, it is good enough for me. It all makes sense now, the unexplained crashing of our dinner, Oliver’s overwhelming disliking of her and the whole shopping trip thing.
‘May I help you?’ A tiny lady behind a very big desk offers me a friendly smile.
‘Erm, yes. I need a room please, just for tonight.’ My voice sounds dry and hoarse.
‘No problem. We have a Junior Suite available at a reduced rate?’
Digging out my purse, I look at my credit card dubiously. ‘Actually, a standard room will be just fine. Whichever is the cheapest that you have.’ I push my card across the desk and hope that it doesn’t decline.
She runs my card through the machine and takes my contact details, before handing over a key labelled A21.
‘You are in room A21 which is down the lobby on the left. If you need anything at all, just call down.’
‘Thank you very much.’ Stuffing my purse back into the overcrowded handbag, I wander down the lobby in search of my bed for the night.
Even in my dazed, confused state, it doesn’t take me long to find it. Slipping the glossy key into the card reader, I push open the door. The tiles are warm under my feet as I walk over to the bed and crawl under the sheets, not even bothering to turn on the lights. My whole body aches as though I have been involved in a car accident. What am I doing here? Just two hours ago I was in a roll top bath waiting for my boyfriend to return with a bottle of red.
This whole thing is insane. The dark room taunts me as I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can. Erica and Oliver. Erica and my Oliver. Erica was holding Oliver’s hand. His shirt was unbuttoned.
‘...you amaze me...’
‘...never forget you...’
‘...love you...’
My mum always said it’s better to stay up and fight than to sleep on an argument, but what if you have already lost?
Chapter 31
Peeling back my sore eyelids, I wince at the incredible pain that is shooting through my temples. From my head to my toes, my entire body feels bruised and raw. That was a horrendous night’s sleep. My tired eyes gradually focus on the strange, beamed ceiling. What the hell? It takes me a moment to register where I am and a minute more for the previous night’s events to come flooding back to me like a terrible nightmare. Oliver. Erica. The bar. Oh, God.
Feeling utterly broken, I wipe a stray tear that has escaped my right eye. How is this my life? How have I gone from flying to Mexico to meet my Texan in-laws, to fleeing the hotel after catching my boyfriend in a compromising position with a Barbie doll? Shaking my head, I run my fingers through my knotted hair before rolling onto my side.
I pull back the floral covers and hold my throbbing head in my hands, trying to collect my thoughts. Bright sunshine fills the room as I try to make sense of what the hell I am doing here. A part of me is expecting Ashton Kutcher to run out with half a dozen cameras and the whole thing to be one big, not very funny joke. It takes all of my energy to drag my over flowing bag up onto the bed. Tipping it upside down, I fish through the random mix of clothing for my mobile. It takes me a few deep breaths before I get the courage to look at the screen. Not knowing what I want to see, I unlock the screen as my pulse races.
Seeing that I have zero missed calls make my heart sink. No pleading voice-mails, no text message begging for forgiveness. Nothing. Is it really over? Not wanting to have a complete meltdown, I shove the offending handset under the sheets and push myself to my feet. The tiled floor is toasty and warm as I pad around the room. It is only a third of the size of the suite Oliver and I had booked, but it is every inch as comfortable. The bed that I have been curled up in all night is actually huge and a lot more inviting than it looked last night. In a weird way, I think I would rather stay here.
Realising that I don’t even know where I am, I wander out to the terrace. Instead of the mesmerising sea view that I am now so used to seeing, I am presented with a rather intriguing jungle scene. A lazy hammock swings back and forth in the gentle breeze, surrounded by an array of beautiful palm trees which wrap around the terraced walls of the hotel. You can almost hear the spider monkeys jumping between the branches, as the strong sun blares down through the leaves, enticing you into the swaying hammock.
I lean over the wall and watch a couple of prehistoric looking iguanas scuttle along the sandy path, stopping only to bask for a moment in the sunshine. That’s exactly what I should be doing right now, sunbathing with my boyfriend, our only care in the world being where our next cocktail is coming from. Thinking of cocktails makes me realise that I am terribly thirsty. Stumbling back inside, I yank open the mini bar and stare at the rum, before reaching for an overpriced bottle of spring water. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol might be tempting, but I don’t fancy dealing with a hangover as well as a break up. Besides, there isn’t any tequila.
Hearing the distinct sound of rolling suitcases outside the door, I am suddenly aware that I may have to check out soon. The thought of going back to the hotel and Oliver is more than I can face right now. I do have my passport with me. Maybe I could just go straight to the airport. A quick glance down at my slept in jersey dress and flip flops tells me maybe not. Besides, I at least need to brush my teeth and get some fresh underwear. I may be heartbroken, but I still have my pride.
I clutch the bottle of water and curl up on the bed, trying to forge a mental plan. Let’s look at the facts here. I am going to have to see him again at some point. I have been practically living with the man for the past six months, all my belongings are at his apartment and his are at mine. What a mess. I suddenly feel rather homesick. I miss my house. I miss my bed. I miss my friends.
Thinking of Marc and Lianna sends me over the edge. A salty tear lands on the pillowcase, followed by another and then another until I am one big ball of sadness. I pull my knees up to my chest and allow myself to cry and once I start, I can’t stop. My whole body is throbbing as I wail into my dress. I just want to go home.
Wiping my eyes, I tie my hair up off my face. I may have been crying for an hour, I may have been crying for five minutes, I really do not know. What I do know, is that there is a knocking at the door, a very loud, authoritative knocking. Fantastic, I must have missed the check out time. Running over to the door, I fumble with the lock. Why won’t it open?
‘Just give me a minute! I’m having a little trouble with the lock.’ Frantically wiggling the handle, I kick the door frame in annoyance.
I really do not need this right now. Why is the universe conspiring against me? What have I done to deserve this? I pull the handle as hard as I can and let out a frustrated gasp, but it does little to help matters. As I fight with the uncooperative door, the knocking gets louder and louder until it is unbearable.
I put my eye to the peep hole and recoil in horror.
Oh, no.
What the hell is she doing here?
Chapter 32
‘Clara! Clara! You better open this goddamn door before I break it down!’ Janie’s irate voice comes through the door before I can plan my escape. ‘Don’t even test me girl ‘cos I’ll do it. You’ve got to the count of three and then I’m coming in there!’
What is going on? How did she even know where to find me and why is she shouting at me? Looking around for a place to hide, I debate jumping over the terrace, but think better about it when I hear Janie start shouting numbers.
‘One...two...’
‘OK!’ I take a sharp intake of breath and lean against the door. ‘Alright, you win, but I honestly can’t open it. It’s stuck.’
‘For the love of God! Did you not just hear me? I will break this freakin’ door down!’
‘I’m not playing around, Janie! The key isn’t working!’ I yell back, trying my best to unlock the door.
‘Well you better make it work!’
Realising that she isn’t going to give up without a fight, I slide the key under the door
before moving towards the bed for safety. ‘You will have to try it from your end.’
There is a lot of banging, cursing and shouting, before I hear a small beep and the door flies open. Trying to stay out of harm’s way, I bite my lip nervously as in strides a very angry, very sweaty Janie.
‘You, young lady have got some serious explaining to do. My son is going out of his mind over there. What do you think you are playing at running off like that?’ Diving into the mini bar, she takes the bottle of rum and drinks it in one gulp.
She can’t be serious? ‘Are you kidding me? I catch your son cheating on me and I’m the one who has got some explaining to do? You really are something, Janie.’ Feeling my blood start to boil, I cross my arms and try not to say something that I will later regret.
‘Do you have any idea how worried... wait a minute, cheating? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about Erica!’ Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I turn away before she can see.
‘Erica?’ Spinning around, I see that she looks genuinely confused.
Not daring to speak in case I crumble, I resort to a sad nod of the head.
‘What about Erica?’
‘They’re having an affair!’ My voice becomes extremely high pitched. ‘I caught them!’
She stares at me like I have grown three heads and started speaking Mandarin. ‘You better start talking.’ Beckoning me over to the bed, she grabs a handful of vodka minis and passes one to me.
‘It was last night.’ Just recalling it makes my voice start to break. ‘We were having a lovely night in with room service and we ran out of wine. I said we should phone for some, but he insisted on going down to the bar himself.’ I take a shot of vodka and wince at the burn.