Cuts Like Glass

by Dana Feldman

  “Great. Then get showered and dressed and I’ll wait out here. The car will pick us up in an hour.”

  I go to grab my purse, but he takes out my cell phone. “No need for this tonight. Tonight is all about us.”

  I thank God that I had the forethought to change the code that locks my phone as well as erase all text messages. I just hope that nothing new comes in while I’m getting ready. I have to trust that Evelyn has an eye on me, or at least has some of her officers somewhere close by. I tell myself this but haven’t seen anyone tailing us. I pray that we don’t slip through her fingers tonight. My luck, they’re on a food run. Please be watching, I pray.

  As I’m getting dressed I notice how skin-tight the dress is. Not much room to hide the gun Bob gave me. I find a small handbag and am able to just squeeze it in. I put some makeup on and decide to leave my hair down and wavy. A touch of red lipstick, and I’m ready to go. As I slip the shoes on I can tell that these will have to go if I need to run.

  I watch his face when I walk out into the living room. He can barely contain himself. I need to act like the girlfriend that he fell in love with, if I’m going to survive this night. I haven’t had much luck with men and boats, but here we go.

  “You look beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  He reaches out his hand for mine and pulls me into his arms. He smells so good, feels so good.

  “I love you so much, Ella.”

  I say the words back to him. And I mean them. I do love Peter. I’m also afraid of him, what he’s capable of doing. I’ve seen it already. I’ve never been so torn about anyone. With Gabe it was very different. I fell so hard, so fast, in love with him. That first year was pure love, happiness.

  Everything after that was a hell I’d never wish on anyone. The love was lost with him. With each verbal or physical punch, I loved him less and less until I hated him.

  Peter has never raised a hand to me, has never been anything but gentle. And his words have always been kind. He’s never been cruel to me the way Gabe was. His comment the other night about my neck being breakable was followed with gentle kisses. This is where I’m confused. I haven’t seen the side of him that I saw in his father, but I sadly know that it’s there.

  I’m reacting, even now, to his kisses. My body and his are in tune. Evelyn may not think that this love is real but it is. That might just be the saddest part of it all.

  “I planned a wonderful evening for us,” he says, as we leave the apartment. “The car should be just out front,” he adds, checking his watch.

  We walk down the hallway hand in hand. To the neighbors coming and going we look like the dream couple. I can only imagine what, from the outside, we look like together. I look up at him, and he’s so gorgeous. I’ve never seen him dressed up like this, and now that I think about it, he’s never seen me looking this way either.

  When we get out front there’s a black Bentley waiting for us. It’s unseasonably cold, and I watch my breath in front of me as I speak to Peter. I want to go back and get my coat but he removes his, and he wraps me up into the thick wool. His arms are around me as an added barrier from the cold, but I continue to shiver.

  A man is standing by the car. He’s wearing a black suit and I notice how shiny his shoes are. He matches the perfection of the car.

  “Tony,” Peter says cheerfully. “Good to see you.”

  “You, as well, sir. Ma’am,” he says, opening the back door for us and helping us from the curb into the plush backseat. I can smell the fine leather as I get in. Peter scoots in just beside me, his hand grabbing mine again.

  I’m praying that the mood of the night remains light and happy. I have no phone. I have no escape if things don’t.

  “So, you know where to go?” Peter asks Tony.

  “Yes, sir,” he replies, and I watch as he punches an address into the GPS. “We should be there in just a few minutes.”

  “We’re staying in the marina?”

  “Is there a better place for a dinner-cruise?”

  I shake my head, relieved that we’re not going to be leaving the area. I want to stay local. I know the lay of the land here. I feel some safety in this.

  I lean in close and whisper in his ear. “Why’d you go through the expense of renting a Bentley just to drive a few miles?”

  “Because,” he says, looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen. “I want tonight to be perfect. No detail is too small.”

  And then it hits me. I know that look. I’ve seen it once before. He’s going to propose to me tonight. Thankfully, Tony asks him some question or other about the basketball game from the night before. This distracts Peter just enough so that my less-than-thrilled reaction isn’t noticed.

  I spend the duration of the ride thinking about my earlier conversations with Bob and Evelyn. I feel that I’ve found my own little family of sorts. Bob has become a fill-in father and Evelyn, well, if I ever were to have had a sister, I’d have been lucky had it been her. And then I think of Chris.

  There’s a simple truth to him that is refreshing. With him, what you see is what you get. He’s so honest, so real. I miss him. We used to talk all the time, and lately, it’s dropped off to maybe once a week. It was good to see him, though extremely strained, the other night when he came over. And Peter’s over-the-top show of affection towards me in front of him, left things a bit cold between us.

  As we pull up to the dock, I’m startled as we park directly in front of a yacht. There are no other boats docked on either side so I’m assuming that this is ours for the night.

  “Oh my God, it’s absolutely stunning, Peter!”

  He helps me out of the car and we walk towards the boat. Peter hands Tony a wad of bills as a tip, and we head towards the ramp where another man, dressed in all white from head-to-toe, greets us.

  No one else is around. Californians stay indoors when it gets this cold. A thick layer of fog encases us so that all you can see is a few feet in any direction.

  I know that Peter had a trust from his father but up until now, he’d seemed to be holding onto it. Any money that he was spending was for one charitable cause or another. I’ve always known him as a jeans and t-shirt guy that BBQ’s and drinks Coronas. I’ve never seen this side of him.

  “Good evening, sir, madam,” the man says. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties, and small in stature. He has a British accent and is friendly, yet a tad robotic in his speech and manner.

  “You can address us by our first names. I’m Peter and this is Ella.”

  “All right, Peter, Ella, this way. I’m Aaron and I’ll be here to make sure that you have everything you need tonight.”

  We follow him up a narrow ramp onto the yacht.

  “Are we staying overnight?”

  “Yes,” he says. “Is that all right?”

  “Of course,” I reply, as nerves shoot through me. “I just didn’t pack anything.”

  “I know what you like. I’ve made sure that you have everything you need.”

  I’m admittedly impressed with his attention to detail. We follow Aaron as he gives us a tour of the place. It’s beyond words. We walk through brass pillars at the stern of the yacht. The main deck that we’re on is all windows with breathtaking views on all sides. An electric fireplace is on. The lower deck is where the galley and laundry facilities are located. This deck is where the main living areas are located and the top level is where the three bedroom cabins are. The master, we’re told, is just up the steps before us at the bow.

  “I’d like to go and take a look, use the ladies room, if you don’t mind. Meet you back down here in a few minutes?”

  “Yes, of course,” he says, and kisses me softly.

  I can feel him watching me as I walk up the steps. I know how I must look in this dress. I have forgotten what it feels like to wear such high heels but I’m quickly getting the hang of it again. Muscle memory, I assume.

  The master bedroom cabin is marve
lous. A huge king size bed sits in the center of the room against a large wall of glass. There’s another fireplace with a faux leopard rug in front of it. Two love seats in the shape of half-circles are situated just to the left of the fireplace. I press a button at the edge of the bed and a huge flat screen television slides up without a sound.

  I can see that the sun will be setting within the next half hour and Peter had mentioned wanting to have a drink together on the deck to watch.

  I figure that I have ten or so minutes to freshen up. I walk into the luxurious bathroom of beige marble and brass. On the countertop is a set of products. The man wasn’t kidding. He’s been studying me and he knows everything that I like.

  There is the face wash and cream that I use. The makeup products and perfume that I like are all lined up. I look in the shower and he’s made sure that I have the hair products that I use and then I look in the closet just off the bathroom and there are clothes for us both; lingerie for me for after dinner and an outfit for tomorrow.

  He’s thought of everything. I quickly use the restroom and spray some perfume on and touch up my makeup. Before I go downstairs to join him, I remove the small pistol from my purse and hide it underneath the bed on what is usually, my side. I’m always on the side closest to the bathroom so I assume it’s a safe place to put it for now. I don’t even know what I was thinking, bringing it. I’ve been on edge.

  Look at all the trouble that he went to, just to make tonight special for us. And besides, with the small crew on board, what could possibly happen?

  I take a deep breath and head down the steps to where Peter is waiting for me on the main deck outside.

  “A drink?” he asks, already with one in his hand.

  “Yes, please,” I say, and Aaron comes up.

  “What can I get you?”

  “What are you having?” I ask Peter.

  “A scotch.” He rarely drinks hard liquor.

  “I’ll have a martini. Vodka please. And extra olives.”

  Aaron is off getting my drink and I’m left wondering how much I’ve missed when it comes to Peter. He seems to know everything that there is to know about me and I didn’t even know he was a scotch drinker. I’m seeing a pattern here of me not knowing enough about the people in my life, and I vow to change that, to pay more attention in the future.

  I thank Aaron when he returns with my drink. I’m relieved that Peter and I are not alone. Maybe I overreacted earlier. There is a chef downstairs, Aaron always within earshot, and a captain, who we’ve yet to meet, joining us on this excursion.

  “Let’s sit over here,” Peter says, motioning for me to follow him to a set of deck chairs close to the railing. “The view here is amazing.”

  I look over the railing and can see the sky as it prepares itself for sunset. It’s as if a painter came by with a brush and palette and painted the sky with flecks of pink and orange and added a few flecks of yellow for dramatic effect.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I say.

  Just then, the chef, in full uniform including the large white chef’s hat, and the captain approach us.

  “I apologize. I should’ve greeted you both when you first got here but I was stuck on a work call. I do hope that Aaron here has been helpful.”

  “Yes, he has been wonderful,” I say.

  “I’ll be your captain for the evening. People call me Captain Mike and this here is your chef, James. Our goal is to make tonight one of pure pleasure and perfection.”

  “Thank you,” Peter says, shaking their hands. “We look forward to it.”

  “I’ll be bringing up some appetizers shortly,” James says. “Peter and I went over the menu, and I believe that you’ll like everything that we’ve chosen for you.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I’m certainly hungry.”

  As they walk away, Peter runs his hand up my thigh. “I’m very pleased to see that you’ve gotten your appetite back. The dress fits just right. You were getting a bit too thin. I like you healthy and curvy.”

  I put my hand on his and stop him as he tries to go up my dress. “Not here. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly alone.”

  “I’m a patient man. I can wait,” he says, his hand now on my knee. “A toast?”

  “Ok,” I say, and lift my glass to his.

  “To love, to us. Cheers,” he says, and clicks my glass with his.

  “Cheers,” I say, and lean in as he does. When he kisses me, I can feel it all over. I melt. These feelings are beyond confusing. Maybe Evelyn is mistaken. I know she means well. But Peter loves me.

  With each delicious course, I can see how much effort went into this night.

  “When did you have the time to plan all of this?” I ask, just before he feeds me a prawn soaked in butter and garlic.

  “I’ve been working on this for the past few weeks. I’ve always imagined what it might be like to really fall in love. Everyone always told me that I’d just know. And with you, I do.”

  I’m at a loss for words. There’s really only one right thing to say in a moment like this.

  “I love you, Peter,” I reply, because it’s true. I do love him. I just don’t fully trust him or his motives with me. And I don’t want to marry him, or anyone for that matter.

  But I know what’s coming, and I’m trying my best to prepare for it. The last thing in the world that I’d ever want to do is to hurt him. Or anyone. I’m not that person. But I feel trapped on this boat, in this relationship, and I don’t know what to do.

  And then another course comes, and another. I keep waiting for it to happen. After dessert and dancing on the deck in the moonlight, the night has officially started to wind down.

  “I have to take these off,” I say, removing my heels.

  “Here, let me,” he says, lifting my aching feet onto his lap. He begins to massage my feet. I close my eyes. It feels so good. I can feel as the boat slows down, and we’re pulling into yet another harbor.

  “Where are we?” I ask, sitting upright.

  “Ventura. We’ll dock here for the night.”

  “Sir,” Aaron says, with a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. “We’ll just be at the hotel across the way. See you in the morning. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  They exchange pleasantries and I watch as the chef and captain follow him off the boat and down the ramp. I was so distracted by the drinks and food I hadn’t even realized how far we’d gone. He says it was part of the surprise.

  “We have the place to ourselves,” he says, lifting my left foot up to his mouth. He starts to kiss my foot and is starting to work his way up my calf. Gentle kisses behind my knee and up my thigh send shivers through me.

  He stops suddenly and I realize that my eyes are closed. I open them to find him kneeling before me on one knee.

  “I promise to finish what I started,” he teases. “But first, there’s something that I want to ask you.”

  He pulls a black velvet ring box from his breast pocket and opens it before me. A stunning diamond shines against the black.

  “Ella, from the very first time you came to visit me in the hospital, I knew that there was something different and very special about you. From that day until now, I’ve only wanted you. Will you marry me?”

  I don’t respond. I just sit there, my mouth agape. I can’t say I’m shocked. I knew this was coming. And I know my answer. So does he after several seconds have passed.

  “I’m so sorry, Peter. I can’t marry you. I can’t marry anyone.”

  As he gets up, he shuts the ring box and puts it back into his pocket. He’s walking away from me, over toward the railing. My heart sinks and an ache follows.

  “Peter, please, understand where I’m coming from. It’s not you that I don’t want to marry. I don’t want to marry anyone again. Ever.”

  I’ve walked up just behind him. I carefully put my hand on his back, wishing that he’d turn around so that we can talk about this. I don’t expect what comes next. Not knowing his own
strength, he pushes my arm away from him, and in doing so, knocks me down onto the hard deck.

  I fall on my left arm and the searing pain that follows, stuns me into submission.

  “Ella, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you ok?”

  I look up at him and can see that he’s as shocked as I am. I’m able to move my arm so I know that it isn’t broken. He helps me up to my feet.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  I nod my head. I’m trying to prevent the situation from escalating any further than it already has. He takes a step towards me and I flinch. He immediately backs away.

  “The last thing that I’d ever want to do is to frighten you. I’ve never raised a hand to a woman. You’re the last person in the world that I’d ever want to hurt. Ella, you have to believe me. That was an accident.”

  He begins to cry, his hands are now covering his face. “This wasn’t the plan. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to turn out.”

  “I know,” I say, trying to pacify him. I walk closer to him now, my hands on his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from his face so that he can look at me. “I know. You planned such a wonderful night for us, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t say yes to you.”

  “Let’s go inside,” he says, taking my hand in his. “You’re shivering.”

  I follow him in and we sit in front of the main fireplace to warm up. We’re on the floor on another faux fur rug. I wish that he’d never proposed, that we’d just had a romantic evening together. Why can’t life ever be uncomplicated?

  He takes the ring box out of his pocket and places it on the rug between us.

  “I want you to keep it. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

  He pushes it towards me in what has become an extremely awkward moment.

  “You don’t have to wear it. Just hold onto it. Please. Do that for me.”

  I nod my head and take the box and put it inside my handbag. Though he’s saying that he understands and didn’t mean to hurt me, my gut is telling me that his mood can shift at any second. I need to get that gun. Just in case.