by Romi Moondi
I need to get a personal trainer.
As we continued along the trail with James leading the way, I looked over my shoulder at Belvedere Castle. How romantic it might’ve been to go to the highest balcony and soak in the view.
Maybe next time.
The darkness started creeping its way into the park, and the air was getting colder all the time.
I took my mittens from my bag and put them on, silently thrilled that the vanilla/foot cream mixer had preserved my wretched hands for this long.
James turned and watched, still walking but walking backwards now. He even looks cool when he walks backwards.
“What?” I said, glancing up at him with a smile. Silently I hoped he would trip and fall on a squirrel just to wipe away his coolness.
“Nothing.” He looked amused.
“Well I’m glad you find my mittens to be funny, but it’s purely functional. I mean it’s cold you know.” I kicked some snow in his direction, even though he’d wandered further away.
“Are you going to wait for me?” I yelled. “Or just leave me here in the dark with a bunch of rabid squirrels?”
I started walking fast, still fiddling with my mittens and not really looking where I was going.
“I am waiting for you.” His voice was much closer now.
“And by the way,” I yelled, before realizing he was right in front of me.
“Yes?”
“Oh,” I said, now staring up into his eyes. Did he just get taller or am I shrinking? “I wanted to ask, how are you so warm when you don’t even have gloves?”
“Pockets,” he said softly. “Wonderful things.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled.
“Well I would love to put my hands in my pockets too, but whoever made this jacket decided grown-up women have midget hands. Like seriously, look! I can only fit half my fingers in!”
I showed him and shook my head.
“What? Let me see that.” He walked right over and tried to stuff his hands in my pockets.
Uhh...excuse me?
He didn’t make it very far, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. His man-plates were on a way bigger scale than mine. Not that he’d noticed it of course. Unfortunately the pockets were directly over my stomach. Uh-oh! I sucked in and held my breath as he continued to struggle. Did he notice? He might if I didn’t start breathing again soon.
“Small,” he said, staring right into my eyes.
“Huhmm?” I mumbled, trying not to let any air out.
Calm yourself woman!
“Your pockets are very small,” he repeated, before smiling and pulling away.
I exhaled as quietly as I could. This was getting to be hard work.
“Wow, look at that, it’s already dark,” I observed. Not my most intelligent of statements.
James glanced at his watch. “It’s five o’ clock. Let’s go.”
“Go? Where to?” I was starting to feel like a child on a kindergarten excursion. Which meant he should probably hold my hand.
“You will have to wait and see,” he said.
“Okay,” I said grinning. Grinning? Too eager, stop grinning.
I suddenly remembered Laura, and fumbled through my bag for my cell phone.
“Your roommate?” he said, looking at the phone in my hand.
“Yes, her. She’ll be needing the latest location.”
The car was still waiting for us where we’d left it, and I was so looking forward to the warmth it would offer. As I tried to get ready for my latest text to Laura, my phone screen flickered pathetically, eventually fading out. What? I shook it hard and then banged it in my hand, much to James’s amusement.
“Oh that will surely help,” he said.
He was right, nothing worked. The phone was dead.
“Could I ask a big favour?” I said, looking at James as he stood by the opened car door. “My cell phone just died, but if we go past my hotel I can let Laura know I’m okay.”
Smooth! I should have thought of this one earlier. “Here’s my hotel room, James. And here’s the bed...”
“Sure we can, we’re heading across there anyway.”
“Great, then let’s go!”
James took my hand and I stepped into the car before he followed. I could tell that I was getting used to this.
Best day ever.
***
At first, James insisted he stay in the car when we arrived outside the hotel, but there was no way that was going to happen. He had to meet Laura, so I could score some major points and trade gossip on the plane ride home. Would she even be in the room? Maybe she was lounging around naked and James would dump me for her. Would that happen? Of course it wouldn’t. Was I actually having an argument with myself?!
“So which floor?” he said, as we stood in the elevator.
“Oh umm...fifteen.” He pressed the button as I firmly held the key card in my hand.
It suddenly occurred to me that if Laura wasn’t there, James and I would have the room to ourselves. Me, him, and a bed.
Before I had a chance to overanalyze too much we were standing in front of my room.
I unlocked the door and then instinctively knocked. “Laura?” I called out.
I opened the door to find a dark and empty room.
When I hit the light switch I immediately regretted it.
The place was an absolute mess. I’d completely forgotten how I’d tossed out the entire contents of my suitcase that morning, while desperately searching for my silver earrings.
Oh my god, is that my PADDED bra on the floor?
Laura meanwhile had all her belongings neatly tucked away in her suitcase.
Hmm...
James followed me in and I watched his reaction as he took in the mess. I definitely saw a flicker of something in his eyes.
“God! Laura is such a spaz!” I quickly said. “I can’t believe she dumped her whole suitcase like that!” I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.
He seemed to buy the story, so I scrambled for a pen and paper to write Laura a note. I needed to tell her I was still alive, but really I was hoping that James would just push me onto the bed. Oh the bed! I turned around and couldn’t help but notice how cozy my bed really looked. It’s not like I believed anything would happen, but that didn’t stop the movie from playing a loop in my head. In this case the reel was the one where he stared at me hard, then threw me to the bed with one easy swoop. And things would get a little more intense after that.
“Everything okay?” It was James. I was dreaming not writing. Laura!
“Oh yes sorry, all good. Just figuring out what to write.”
“I see.” He looked at me oddly and I wondered what he was thinking. Meanwhile all I wanted was the movie in my head to resume.
But could I ever really say that my life was a movie? When my day started out with vomit, and covering my hands in foot cream?
This ain’t no lovey-dovey movie.
“If you need something to write, how about: ‘Hi Laura I’m fine, my phone died and I’ll talk to you later’?”
“That’s just what I was going to write!” I scribbled the words out, folded the note into a little paper tent and left it propped next to the television.
“Alright,” he said. “On to the next stop.”
***
By the force of some weird voodoo curse, the evil clock had shifted forward to half past eight.
But what did I even know about the clock? I was too busy having the time of my life.
James had taken me to a lovely restaurant in Little Italy. No sushi bar, thank God. It felt so rustic and the ambience so romantic, that I’d forgotten we were even in New York. As for my belly it forgot all about my mother’s cooking, thanks to the freshest fettuccine and silkiest four-cheese sauce I’d ever tasted.
In terms of close contact I could only thank the wine, as halfway through the bottle our bodies had gotten closer. I wouldn’t call it anything crazy on the physi
cal level, but it was nice to know I had a shoulder to lean on, when the wine got to be a bit much.
Despite all the wine, we were knee-deep into our mutually favourite topic: writing. I was amazed at how he could carry the discussion, and I never felt bored for a second. We talked about some of our favourite authors, the first book we remembered from our childhood, and the one book we had read the most number of times. Mine was “Jane Eyre” and his was “The Thirty Nine Steps.”
I liked it better this way. I felt like I was getting to know him, and I didn’t feel pressure to explain my goals or how and when I would accomplish them. Goals are too scary, and could this night just never end please? Thank you.
I changed the subject by pointing to our empty table. “So what’s for dessert?” Does that make me sound like a pig?
He shook his head. “No dessert here I’m afraid. How about we go somewhere else?”
“Somewhere else? You really have this day all planned out,” I said smiling.
I love this guy!
“There’s too much New York to stay seated in one place.” He signaled to the waiter for the check.
Okay James Caldwell, you lead the way…
***
I looked all around me and smiled.
“How do you find these adorable places? First, that amazing restaurant, and now we’re in the cutest little French café. I don’t even know what it’s called!”
Well actually the sign out front was a good indication. We were sitting in the Café D’or on Lexington Avenue, and the entire room had a warm yellow glow. The large Christmas tree in the back made it seem even cozier.
“These places aren’t hard to find,” he said. He smiled as he fed me another bite of cake.
It is December 19th, and James and I are feeding each other cake in New York City. I am officially in heaven!
We continued to talk and make each other laugh. Often when I’d laugh a lock of my hair would fall across my face, and somewhere along the way, James had taken it upon himself to tuck those errant strands behind my ear. It was one of those tiny moments I’d never ever get from an e-mail or the phone, so I tried my damndest to savour each one.
“Do you see that waiter over there?” I whispered, pointing to the back of the room.
“The one with the really large forehead?” he whispered back, his face only inches from mine.
I nodded. “He looks like Jack Nicholson. But a less angry version.”
“Jack Nicholson wasn’t always angry,” he said. “He has that huge smile, remember?”
I shook my head. “No, you’re thinking of the Jack Nicholson who played ‘The Joker.’ I’m thinking of the angry Jack Nicholson from ‘The Shining’. Have you ever seen that movie?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“That movie freaked me the hell out.”
“You mean the scene when the blood rushed down the corridor?” He shuddered.
I smirked. “Forget the blood, it was those little twin girls, the dead ones that kept showing up as ghosts. I’ll never trust twin girls after that.” I helped myself to more of the cake while he stared at me dumbfounded. Should I be limiting my cake intake or go with the flow?
“Well it’s not the girls’ fault,” he said. “They were murdered in the hotel!”
“That doesn’t mean they should go around haunting people! And seriously, how ‘bout pay more attention next time, so you don’t get murdered in a hotel? And they were twins for God’s sake, not even one could survive?”
He laughed. “Right. How about I never write a horror film, and if I do you have my word there will be no twins in it?”
I suddenly realized I’d been ranting.
“Thank you!” I said, stretching and dropping my hand onto his in one quick motion. How was that for a smooth move? Did he notice? Well it’s just sitting there lonely on the table…
He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly eleven. We will have to wrap things up now.”
He pulled his hand away from underneath mine. I thought about hanging onto it and dragging him across the table. We haven’t even begun! But that’s all it was – a thought.
James paid and once again we found ourselves outside at the foot of the curb, the car’s humming engine inviting us in for some warmth.
“James,” I said, suddenly grabbing his hand and bringing us to a stop before we reached the car door. He turned and looked at me.
“Yes?”
I looked at him for a second then decided against it. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”
I stepped past him and into the waiting car.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The ride to my hotel was quiet. I had no idea what was going through his head, and he kept it to himself so I did the same. Couldn’t we just stay here forever? Perfect days like this came around maybe once in a blue moon, and well…hadn’t I earned the right to turn it into a lifetime? Couldn’t I just get on the plane with him and go to England, meet Mum and Dad, eat crumpets and sip tea? I could even learn to understand soccer, it was just two teams right? How hard could it be? What was his favorite team again - Chelsea? And music – yes music, I could listen to Robbie Williams all day…but did he even like Robbie Williams? Or we could share dusty old books by DH Lawrence, before heading back to the sun and blue seas of Barcelona. But if he ever comes near me with those green olive things we are going to have a problem.
“We’re here sir.” The driver looked back for instruction.
NOOO!
“Thank you Martin. Do you mind waiting here for a bit?”
“No problem.”
We climbed out of the car and into the hotel lobby.
Why had the day slipped by so incredibly fast?
“Come up and meet Laura?” I asked, as we stood on the shiny marble.
James pointed at a big leather couch near the elevators.
“Do you mind if we sit here for a moment?”
I shrugged my shoulders and we sat. The lobby was empty, except for the night concierge and a cleaner at the other end.
“I wanted to give you a little something,” he said. “It’s a Christmas present.”
He pulled a small rectangular-shaped object wrapped in green paper from the inside of his coat.
I was in shock. “You actually got me a present?”
He smiled. “It’s nothing lavish or anything. But open it.”
I studied the package. “How did you even fit this inside your coat?”
“Well Roms, men’s coats aren’t made with tiny pockets.”
I burst into laughter. My laughs echoed all through the lobby, and it felt so good that I almost forgot he was leaving. And then a second later I remembered. Dammit.
“By the way my name is Romes, not Roms.” I rolled my eyes at him, before ripping open the package then stopping in my tracks. I froze. It was a book entitled “Writing a Novel,” written by Nigel Watts.
“It’s nothing big or flashy,” he quickly said.” “But it remains one of the simplest and easiest-to-understand guides to writing a novel. The fundamentals should you ever get stuck.”
I shook my head in amazement. “You really think I’m going to do this don’t you…”
“And you don’t think you are?” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “Roms, it’s not my expectation that you write a novel. That can only come from you. Just don’t forget there’s a story inside you kicking and screaming to get out.”
It was too late to be a tough girl now. The pathetic little tears started dripping, but now they were falling for a totally different reason.
James put his face close to mine and I could feel his concern. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I managed to say. “I’m just happy.”
“Happy? This is you when you’re feeling happy?” He couldn’t help but laugh.
I smiled through the tears. “You know what I mean! But anyway thank you.” I stared at the book for a little while longer, then turned to place it saf
ely in my bag. And that’s when I remembered.
“Oh damn,” I said, wiping away the tears.
He looked at me with surprise. “What’s the matter?”
I was staring into my bag and feeling like a total idiot. “It’s just I got you a present too, and now it’s going to seem ridiculous.”
He smiled. “You didn’t have to get me anything. And whatever it is I’ll love it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I said, as I pulled a small rectangular package from my bag. It looked a lot like his, except mine was wrapped in red.
I handed it to him and winced. “Here you go.”
He ripped it open with a look of excitement in his eyes. And then he froze. “‘Export to Ecstasy’? Is there a punch line here that I’m missing?” He was smiling, though clearly bemused.
I looked up at the ceiling and wanted to burst right through it. Maybe fly away to a land with bigger losers than me. I dropped my eyes and sighed. “I can’t explain it, and I swear I haven’t read it. But all I can say is, I saw it on the shelf when you told me about New York, and the next thing I knew I was asking you if I should visit.”
He stared at the cover again, and suddenly appeared less confused. “Ah, I see it now. Girl with large bosom hops on a plane and embarks on a journey of ecstasy. So you’re like this girl then, yes?”
“Minus the inflatable boobs. And the ecstasy.” I blushed. “I was going to put a little message inside, but I don’t want my name to be associated with that title.”
He laughed. “Yet I’m supposed to put this in my bag, and embarrass myself at airport security?”
I made my most serious face. “If you toss it in the trash, I will never speak to you again.”
He raised his eyebrow. “But you’ll never know.”
“But my soul will know…” What the hell am I going on about? Change of subject quick!
“You didn’t meet Laura yet – come on!” I stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the couch.
***
On the fifteenth floor I paused outside my room and pressed my ear against the door. “I think the TV’s on,” I whispered. “She’s probably still awake.”