by York, Mattie
Before she could knock, the door of room 704 swung open. Time stopped as Alex’s eyes met the dark mysterious eyes smiling down at her. Eyes that hinted of darkened entranceways, smoldering fires and exotic spices. Eyes that sparkled like deep water in the moonlight, or a puddle of black oil trickling down the pavement in front of a mechanic’s shop on a hot summer’s day. Alex took a deep breath and tried to recover her senses, as she took a step back and smiled.
The man standing in the doorway was absolutely gorgeous; tall, dark, tanned, with strong shoulders and features of chiseled perfection. As he turned his head, Alex thought he looked just like one of those Roman marble statues in the ROM. His silver framed glasses alone gave his weakness away and brought him back into the realm of mere mortals.
“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” The man said in a deep rich voice. He let his eyes leisurely roam up and down Alex’s curvaceous body as the two stood in the hall admiring each other. “Please to come in,” he finally said. His accent was rich and deep and sent thrilling shivers racing up and down her spine. He reached out and gently took Alex’s arm to guide her into the living room, his touch making her heart flutter like a million monarch butterflies being released at once.
Alex knew a suite at the Royal York did not come cheap. It was rumored to be the height of luxury in Toronto, and this suite did not disappoint. She was impressed with the elegance; the dark antique mahogany furniture, light cream walls, luxurious Asian carpets, and porcelain vases full of mountains of fresh flowers. Heavy velvet curtains blocked the way to what Alex guessed must be the bedroom beyond double French doors. Although curious to see what that looked like, Alex resisted the urge to rush this encounter. Instead she walked slowly around the sofa to the large bay windows. The late afternoon sun was just beginning to drop, its golden rays kissing the tops of the buildings and lighting the waves of Lake Ontario into a shimmering orchestra of dazzling sparkles. Alex had never seen the harbour look so beautiful. “Please” the deep voice came from behind her, “will you sit down?”
“Yes, thank you,” Alex turned from the window. She sat down on the sofa, holding her jacket tight to make sure the buttons stayed closed. “What is your name?”
“Joseph,” her new client said, pronouncing the J as a Y in a most exotic way. He sat down beside her, leaning back into the couch and resting his elbow on the pillows, “and yours,” he raised one eyebrow, “is Alex.”
“Yes,” Alex smiled. “Where are you from?”
“I am from Tunisia, do you know it?”
“Yes,” Alex nodded, “it is near, it is in,” she paused, really having no idea where Tunisia was.
As Joseph smiled at her, his eyes twinkled and Alex noticed that he had the most adorable dimple on his left cheek. “It is in Africa, near Morocco.”
“Yes of course,” Alex tried to picture it on a map in her head. She didn’t want to offend this gorgeous man by not knowing where he came from. But geography, outside of Toronto wasn’t really Alex’s strong point. She still got confused with Oakville and Markham; she knew one of them had a new IKEA but she could never remember which. Especially since both their downtowns were trendy but old fashioned type villages, and each with a really good bakery. “How do you spell it?”
“T-U-N-I-S-I-A,” Joseph spelled out the letters.
“Ah,” Alex nodded, making a mental note to google it that night. “Yes, Tu-ni-she-ah.”
“I like the way you say it.”
“It's a small country, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But your accent, it sounds, like French.”
“Yes, in Tunisia, French is the official language. Maybe you will know Tunisia as Carthage. That was its first name.”
“Oh, yes” Alex nodded, not knowing Carthage any better.
“I like your name, Alex. It is very strong.”
“Yes,” Alex smiled.”
“Alexandria,” Joseph repeated, rolling the ‘r’ off his tongue. Alex liked how he said it. Alexandria made her sound so exotic. A name reserved only for first born Nubian princesses. Or Tunisian princesses. Does Tunisia have princesses? Alex wondered. She imagined herself wrapped in silks, her hair braided with ribbons of gold and scented with jasmine. She would spend her days looking divinely gorgeous in low cut silk dresses while lounging on top of rich sumptuous pillows and sipping chilled wine. She would be served, and of course, fanned with huge lotuses leafs by only the most young, nubile, half naked men attendants in the land. “I like Alexandria,” Joseph snapped Alex back to reality. “Yes, you are Alexandria. Very beautiful, mysterious, delicate Alexandria. I shall only call you Alexandria.”
Alex looked down and inspected her new manicure. She had no idea what to say. She really wanted to impress him, to sound witty and intelligent, but what would he like to talk about? Alex could feel Joseph’s eyes on her; so finally, she looked up at him. “Would you like to stay out here, or move back into the bedroom?”
“Um... yes, definitely,” Joseph smiled mischievously, “I would like to take you to the bedroom, many times. And, I will say that beautiful name of yours over and over again.” Alex bit her lip as she pictured Joseph calling out Alexandria in the throes of passion. “But, not now. We will have lots of time. Right now, I am enjoying looking at you here and talking with you.”
“Oh, ok,” Alex said, a bit disappointed and a bit relieved, “I’m enjoying talking to you too.”
Joseph smiled a marvelous wide smile. Alex couldn’t help but smile back.
“It’s very contagious, no?” Joseph laughed.
Alex leaned back into the couch and began to relax as Joseph told her more about Tunisia.
Alex jumped when her cell phone rang. Had it been an hour already? “I’m sorry,” she smiled sheepishly at Joseph, “but our time is up for today,” she paused, realizing that she had forgotten to ask for ‘Angela’s business’ when she came in. She would have to ask for it now, even though she hadn’t really earned it. How do you ask for money just for conversation? “We haven’t really done anything.”
“Shush, shush,” he silenced her. “We have done so much. Now I know this beautiful Alexandria. And I know I want to see her again. Next time we will have time to talk more.” Joseph got up and walked over to the side table where he picked up a white envelope that was waiting there. “Here you are. It was most pleasurable.”
When they reached the door, Alex stopped and turned around. Joseph took her gently by the shoulders. “Alexandria,” he whispered and lowered his face to hers. He gently pressed his lips to her forehead as Alex closed her eyes and breathed in the musky warmth of his after shave. “Good bye, my beautiful.”
Alex forced herself to keep walking down the empty hall, and not to turn around because she knew Joseph was standing there watching her. She held her breath and counted her steps until she was safely in the elevator. Then she nearly fainted. What the hell was that? She leaned against the wall and pressed her hand to her heart. Who was that? Who does that? He paid me to come and talk to him? How sexy was he? And that accent! She used the envelope he had just given her as a fan and furiously tried to cool her burning face.
14
“No, I don’t need you for anything else tonight. All the girls are finished. What? Me? No, I don’t need anything.” Angela laughed. “Oh I’m sure you would, but no. Not tonight. Go home.” Angela hung up the phone. She picked up her cigarette and wandered over to the window. She pushed the glass open and stood gazing out over the twinkling lights of the neighbourhood for a moment, and then shook her head and flicked her cigarette out the window.
Dear Diary,
That god damned Ahmed. He is one son of a bitch. I don’t know what to do about him. He’s a good driver though. And he tries his best. He has a good heart. Yeah, he’s a funny guy. And smart too. Not just about money. About the girls. He doesn’t like that Alex. Too stuck up he says. He doesn’t think she’ll stick around. He’s usually right, but I don’t know. I think she might. She likes m
oney. That I know. She’s got that fancy car of hers. And she’ll make lots of money. She wants attention too. I don’t know why. But you know, she might be more in it for the attention then the money. I wonder why she is so damned insecure. She’s sexy as hell. If I had those boobs, damn, my life would have been easier. What am I saying? My boobs worked pretty good for me, hell they still are working damned good for me. Hello to the girls!
Alex, she had her first appointment today. She said it went well. Didn’t give out many details. Wonder if she is a tight lipped one? You wouldn’t think so. I thought she’d be more of a tell-all. And I wanted to hear all about that appointment. Her client sounds goddamned gorgeous. And rich! Don’t know where he’s from though. He wouldn’t say. Mr. Cohen. That’s his name. Don’t know if that’s French. But his accent!!!!. Got me wet just making the damn appointment. Actually he wouldn’t say much, either.
Of course, they don’t have to. Clients don’t usually. But I like to know. Makes it a bit more interesting. Of course, Dora thinks that he’s using a fake name. That he’s married. She said he’s way too good to be true. Probably is. Single men don’t pay for escorts. Unless they’re in rap videos, or they are cold as ice. .
Went to Luann today. Haven’t been writing this journal as much as I should, she said. I don’t know why. It’s a waste of time. My time is too precious for this shit. Sitting and writing dumb shit that happens in my day. But she said it’s important. She thinks I have some horrible rage bottled up inside of me.
“Hello?”
A tall stocky man in ripped jeans and cowboy boots opened the door. He took off his baseball cap and threw it on the bed as he walked through the office. Scratching his head, he walked slowly into the sun room and sank down into the arm chair. Putting his half finished bottle of Molson’s Canadian down on the coffee table, he grabbed Angela’s cigarette case. “You are home late.”
“Yeah,” he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette. “I had some paperwork to do.”
“Is that what we are calling it now? Paperwork?”
“Angela, don’t do this,” the man sighed and pulled at a rip in the knee of his faded jeans, “you know what it is. I am busy at work. That’s it. Don’t read things into shit that isn’t there.”
“Fine,” Angela sighed and took a sip of her wine. She leaned back into her chair and stared at her husband. “Of course, I’m just tired.”
“Me too.” The man took a swig of his beer. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “of having a hot tub. Want me to heat the old baby up? Like old times? Have a bit of fun?”
Angela laughed. Old memories came flooding back to her. Of times when the hot tub was fun. When her and John slipped naked and oily into the hot tub. Times when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. When she would sit on top of him and fuck him until they both screamed. He would grab her ass and pump her up and down, sweat dripping down his face. And he would look up at her and reach for her face, kissing her face, moaning her name, pleading with her never to stop. “No,” Angela put her wine glass down and picked up her notebook, “I’ve got some stuff to do here.”
He stood up and walked behind the couch. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders. “It would relax you.” He whispered, leaning his face close to her ear so she could feel his hot breath on her skin. He began to knead the tight knots with his long fingers while his lips gently brushed her neck.
Angela wriggled out of his reach and grabbed her glass of wine. “Just go to bed. I’ll come up later.”
“Yeah? Ok.” He kissed the top of her head and grabbed his beer off the table. When the door closed, Angela put down her glass and let out a long sigh.
Like I’m going to fall for that!!!!
NO WAY!!! I’m not a goddamned idiot. Light up the hot tub. Like old times. What old times? When did we have fun old times? Stupid Prick!!!!. Ok, fine maybe there were some fun old times. Yeah, shit, ok. We had good times. Like when we just had it installed. God, we were so excited watching it fill up with hot water. And the bubbles. Oh god. The bubbles. We had so much bloody sex in that tub. Yeah. Ok. That was good. Yeah. John was good. God and the things we did. Why were we so crazy? Crazy in love I guess. This was our little hideaway. Our hot tub, our solarium, and our huge bed. With the mirror on top. God what has that mirror seen? Ha! Not much lately. Lots of pillows and photo shoots. No more excitement. I guess that’s just how it works. It comes and it goes. I can’t help it.
Luann said its ok. I don’t have to have sex with my husband. She thinks we are just having a lull. She doesn’t know how he became my husband. I wonder if she would consider us really married?
Sure we got married. Of course we’re married. When we get divorced that prick will get half of what I’ve got. Ha! But no one knows what I got. Not all of it. Sure some of it. The credit card and website stuff. But that’s nothing compared with the cash. Shit. I need to set up a separate bank account. Get Dora to do that. I don’t want anything in my name that he can get his hands on. Why should he have what’s mine? He doesn’t want it anyways. He doesn’t approve of it. All of a sudden, he has got morals? Why did he marry me in the first place? He knew bloody well what I did.
Luann says lots of women my age aren’t having sex with their husbands. Lots of women are sick of men. Sick of looking after and cleaning and servicing. My new word - Servicing. Ha! Luann said lots of women run away and become lesbians. I don’t know about that. I’m no dyke. Nope. And I can’t run away. Where would I go? Can’t leave my boys.
So no, John, I don’t want to have a hot tub with you. Have some fun? Where is the fun? You can just get up on top and do your thing. Well, at least he doesn’t cry anymore. He used to. I don’t know if he knows I know. But when we used to make love, in the beginning he’d cry. Over her. I know. Even on our bloody wedding day. There he was sat in the bathroom crying. Son of a bitch. And me, smiling to the guests, trying to pretend that it was ok. No, no, he’ll be right out. Yes. I can fix it. I can heal it. Jesus Christ.
But I wanted those boys. They are my boys now. They needed a good mother. And he couldn’t deal with it all. Just buried his wife. Gorgeous wife too. Lucky, so my boys are going to be handsome. They needed him to be strong. Need him to be strong now. So they can be strong. And they needed me. Do I want him to leave? I don’t know. I can’t decide. The boys need to see us together right? Two happy parents so they will believe in love. They’ve got to believe in love.
15
Chieko stood just outside the doorway of the crowded classroom and peeked in.
“Yes? Hello. Please come in,” a middle aged woman looked up from her desk and smiled.
“Is this the English Conversation?”
“Yes, please, come in, sit down,” the woman nodded in the direction of the seats. “Now, you must be Chico?”
“Chieko, yes,” Chieko bowed slightly. She scanned the small classroom for an empty seat. The small desks were arranged around the outside of the room in a semi circle and it seemed, were all full of students either talking together or reading with their heads down. As Chieko walked into the center of the room looking for an empty seat, the classroom grew silent. As everyone turned to stare at her, Chieko looked back at the teacher for help, but she was concentrating on the notes on her clipboard. Finally Chieko spotted a chubby Chinese woman removing her bags from the chair beside her, and Chieko gratefully slipped into the empty seat.
“Ok,” the teacher looked up and clapped her hands together. “I think that’s everyone. So let’s begin, shall we? Welcome to English Conversation 101. I am Ms. Macdonald. Now,” she said speaking slowly and clearly enunciating each word, “this is beginning English Conversation. All of you should be able to understand what I am saying now. You are able to read and write in English and are here to practice your conversation skills. Is that right?”
All the students nodded their heads in unison.
“Good. OK. I believe most of you have just recently arrived here in Canada. So, we
lcome to Toronto,” she paused to smile at the students. “You have probably noticed many people are here from different countries. So it will be exciting to discover where everyone is from. First let me explain our class. We will meet twice a week, at this time. For each class, I want you to bring two questions that you have, or two problems or situations that happened to you over the week. Things that you don’t understand. We can try to solve them together.” Ms. Macdonald wrote 1. Two Questions on the white board. “Don’t worry if they seem simple or strange,” she continued. “Maybe your question will help out others. I will also give you a vocabulary list that you must study and research. Each word must be written in a sentence and handed in at the beginning of the class.” Ms. Macdonald turned back to the board and wrote 2. Vocabulary . “During the class we will review the proper use for each word. And finally, everyone,” she smiled, “yes, everyone will have to speak in each class.” Ms. Macdonald wrote 3. Everyone Speaks! “Ok? Are you ok so far? Any questions?”
Chieko’s seat was the closest to the teacher’s desk. She realized with horror that Ms. Macdonald would probably start with her, so she lowered her head and tried to become invisible as possible. An older gentleman wearing a strange turban on his head raised his hand and Chieko breathed a sigh of relief.
As he was speaking, Chieko scanned the crowded room. Ms. Macdonald was right. Everyone looked so different. There were a few young girls huddled together. They looked so nervous yet so excited, Chieko guessed that they were on a language exchange. She knew lots of girls in high school that came over to Canada to study English after they graduated. These girls looked Chinese, though. Probably from Hong Kong, Chieko thought, judging from their expensive clothes and Coach bags. Chieko looked back at the man speaking, she had never seen a man wearing a turban up close. Does that mean he never cuts his hair, she wondered? His voice was so low and he talked so slow, she didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Something about a subway and a finch? A bird? Wait, Finch. That’s a subway stop. Maybe that is where he lives. As she watched him talk, Chieko’s eyes were drawn to a thick gold watch he wore around his wrist. It matched the thick gold chain he wore around his neck. It sparkled in the florescent lights as he waved his hands frantically in the air.