The Sweetest Charade

by Jadesola James

  Dubai, United Arab Emirates

  It had been nearly a year and a half since Delysia had set foot in Dubai, and because of that, most of the details were fuzzy. However, after stepping off of the plane into a wall of heat that slammed into her with a force that made her gasp, it all came back to her in a rush—the vague smell of dust that pervaded the great city, the luxury cars and taxis racing about, the metro whooshing overhead, the variety of faces and national dress on the streets.

  She headed straight to the hospital without even pausing to see her hotel. She’d go to her uncle’s after a day or two, but for now, she wanted to be as close to the hospital as possible. Faye was taking care of that, and it was sure to be one of the hottest places in town. Her agent hadn’t been quite so vulgar as to suggest that Delysia take advantage of her impromptu trip to shoot some footage for her blog and account, but if things went well with her mother, she knew Faye would broach the topic eventually.

  If.

  One tiny word, and Delysia broke out into a cold sweat.

  When Delysia reached the hospital, she called her mother’s doctor and instead got a nurse, who instructed her to come to a ward and wait. “Dr. Ahmed gave me instructions to take your call. Your mother is in surgery, and has been for a few hours. We couldn’t delay,” the nurse explained, briskly but not unkindly. “These things have a time limit, and your mother agreed this course was best.”

  “I understand.”

  “She should be out in a couple of hours. I’ll let you know if there is news.”

  Delysia found the room assigned to her mother, drank an ice-cold Coke without tasting it, washed her face and hands multiple times. She couldn’t concentrate enough to read, music and podcasts grated, the thought of eating anything made her want to hurl, and she certainly didn’t want to engage with anyone on social media, not tonight. Alexander’s worried face loomed in her memory now and again, and she nearly almost texted him, to tell him she’d arrived, she was waiting, and how damned scary it all was. But she couldn’t—not when she was so determined to cut him off. It wouldn’t be fair.

  She finally texted Faye. Arrived safely, will update.

  She hesitated for a moment, then her fingers flew over the keypad again. Please let Alexander know, and thank him for everything.

  * * *

  “Why are you so skinny?” was the first thing Delysia’s mother wailed when she saw her daughter, upon the nurses wheeling her in from recovery, nearly a day later. Delysia, who was practically about to snap into two from the nervous tension, began to laugh—then, burst into tears.

  Her nurses patted Delysia good-naturedly on the back, offered tea, told her her mother would be fine. Her new kidney was working splendidly, and she’d be able to go home in a few days.

  “I’ll stay for as long as you need me, Mama,” Delysia whispered, sitting as close to her mother as she dared. The older woman already looked better than she had in years—real color was in her cheeks, and her voice sounded stronger. She reached out and squeezed Delysia’s hand, and she felt close to tears again. She felt for the first time since her mother had gotten sick that she finally had her back.

  Her mother adjusted her new headscarf—a soft, filmy, embroidered piece that Delysia had brought as a gift—and spoke firmly. “No need, Delysia. You have your own life to live, and I will be very strong, very soon.”

  “Well, I’ll just wait until that day then,” Delysia said stubbornly, and her mother sighed, but conceded.

  “It will be nice to spend some time with you,” she admitted. “Now, tell your old mother about your life. How is school?”

  The same lie she’d always told was at the tip of Delysia’s tongue, but she suddenly didn’t want to. Not anymore. She didn’t have to be ashamed of what she did.

  “Mama,” she said carefully. “I have a confession to make. I’m not in school anymore.”

  Her mother’s mouth twitched. “I know, Delysia.”

  What? The shock must have shown on her face, because her mother reached out and patted her hand as if to calm her.

  “Do you think your old mother can’t operate a smartphone, darling? I’ve been following all your shenanigans for years,” she said, and snorted. “Two years ago I called that woman who represents you. Faye, is it? She told me why you did it, promised to keep you out of trouble. And I can see she has.”

  Delysia felt her eyes well up.

  “Don’t cry, child.” Her mother sighed. “I’m your mother. It feels like a failing, being unable to take care of you. I should be supporting you, so you can be the doctor you’ve always wanted to be. But—Delysia. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t—”

  Her voice broke then, and Delysia pulled her chair as close as it would come to the bed, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder.

  After a moment, the older woman cleared her throat. “Tell me about this trip you’re on now.”

  Glad to engage her mother, Delysia began relaying the story of the Gilded Express, showing her (carefully selected) photographs, and doing her best to select the funniest, most interesting bits of the trip. Her mother laughed at some, shook her head at others, but her eyes grew softer as she looked, as Delysia went on.

  “I’m very proud of you,” she said simply, and Delysia had to struggle not to cry again.

  “Now, tell me,” her mother said, sitting back and folding her hands, “about your professor, and why you haven’t mentioned him until now.”

  “Mama...”

  “Well?”

  Delysia bit her lip. “We aren’t together anymore, Mama.”

  “Why? Is it because you had to come out here?”

  “I...” Delysia couldn’t very well explain that it was because he’d started falling for her and she’d run like a scared chicken. No, that wouldn’t do at all. “We...it wasn’t...we were just having fun, Mama. Not too serious.”

  Her mother fixed her with an impenetrable gaze. “Not too serious? He is the first man you have ever introduced me to, Delysia. And I know there have been others.”

  At that, Delysia actually blushed. Her mother was right.

  The older woman looked at her hard, then, miraculously, left it alone. “Well, tell me where you’re staying. And do you plan on doing something with your hair while you’re here? I haven’t been to a salon in ages, but one of the nurses tells me there is a miracle worker, practically, in Deira, who works out of her house. Get my handbag for me, I’ve got her number there...good heavens, child, why are you crying?”

  “You’re going to be all right, Mama,” Delysia whispered, wiping her cheeks.

  “Well, of course I’m going to be, especially after all your care.” Her mother’s face turned grave for a second. “I know you sacrificed so much, Delysia, to help me. I appreciate it. I’m also praying that now you have the leave to live your life the way you want it, without the added burden of an ailing mother.”

  “You’re not a burden, Mama.”

  “No, not anymore,” her mother agreed. “Now, enough of that. Let us order lunch, and we can talk about that hair...”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Three months later

  “Welcome,” Alexander said grandly, “to the history of luxury.”

  Twenty-two pairs of undergraduate eyes stared at Alexander, wide, focused, ready to absorb whatever he had to give. They sat, not in one of the hot, dusty little classrooms they often assigned him on campus, but in one of the three private dining rooms at the SoHo Lounge, where he’d officially become a member at Faye’s prodding a month ago. Then, in a burst of inspiration quite unlike him, he’d booked the venue for the first day of class, and talked the Gilded Express’s sponsors into attaching his private cars to the seven thirty into Manhattan.

  Now they sat around white-linened tables with fruit-infused water in gleaming crystal glasses, along with hors d’o
euvres being passed around by waitstaff.

  “Sadly, we’re not going to be able to have class here every week,” he said, and here he got a few chuckles, “but I thought I’d start the semester with an experience that we all can agree is a bit more...luxurious than the average college classroom. We’ll be talking a bit this semester about the evolution of luxury and how what we see as luxurious has evolved over the years, and how modern technology interacts with it.

  “I’d like you,” he finished, “to start at your tables by introducing yourselves, and identifying what elements of your experience so far this morning have felt luxurious, or would feel luxurious to someone.”

  Alexander took a moment to check his phone as his students began chatting back and forth. As usual, his cell was riddled with notifications, even though he’d checked them a mere hour before. He could completely see why someone might quit a day job to do this full-time. Between his social media interactions and his endorsements, he had to force himself to create time to work.

  His exposure had paid off at work, though—requests for him as an advisor in the history graduate school had doubled, and he suspected at least a few of the new applicants had at least heard of him.

  Heartbreak—or something very like it, he couldn’t have had his heart broken in only a couple of months, could he?—had upped his productivity, as well. After the trip, Christmas and the crossover into 2019 had been spent in quiet solitude on the Abbott-Hill estate, with him taking the time to catch up on all the work he’d fallen behind on during the trip. Two academic articles were set to be published, the New Yorker had contacted him for a piece on his experience, and a British company that had gotten wind of his penchant for tweed had sent him enough blazers to last him till retirement.

  He had no idea what Delysia thought of his newly minted success, though. She had firmly disappeared off the map, posting no content aside from a brief post on all her platforms about “taking a hiatus for family reasons.” He tried calling and texting a couple of times, but they all went unanswered.

  He’d truly, thoroughly been ghosted.

  The fact that he was now working with Faye—he’d broken down at last, taken her on as an agent—made Delysia’s ignoring him even more palpable. He could not separate the two in his mind, and it was strange meeting and strategizing with Faye without a single mention of Delysia.

  “Just tell me she’s all right,” he said abruptly to Faye, one of the last times they’d spoken of her.

  The older woman hesitated, then opened her mouth and closed it.

  “Faye, please.”

  Faye, for the first and, he was fairly sure, the last time, spoke rapidly. “Her mother is recovering and they both are fine.”

  “Thank God,” he muttered. He had a million other questions, but kept his word and didn’t push Faye any further. At least she was fine, physically. So was he. But mentally—that was another story.

  He could almost say he was pining. But that was impossible, he told himself resolutely. He’d only known her for two months. And perhaps someday, if he tried hard enough, he’d be able to forget those sweet, slow, kiss-and touch-filled nights they’d shared.

  He wasn’t rash enough to say he’d fallen in love. For someone as pragmatic as Alexander, he doubted he could in as short a period of time as they’d had together. However, there was no doubt that his heart had gotten involved, and deeply so.

  She might never speak to him again, but he knew he’d care for her for the rest of his life.

  The beeping of his stopwatch brought him back to the present, and he began the class. Afterward, students who wanted one were given a tour of the Sky Bar, and many took advantage of the view to take pictures with New York City looming behind like a well-positioned backdrop. Alexander was asked to pose for a couple of photographs himself—another thing that only used to happen with Delysia.

  He’d also given up on trying not to think about her. Maybe if he allowed thoughts of her to run rampant, he’d finally be able to forget.

  * * *

  When class was over, Alexander made his way over to the main lounge, selecting a seat in front of the fireplace. They’d lighted what he supposed would be one of the last fires of the season, which made him sadder than it should. He didn’t have much time to reflect, though—his phone rang at exactly eleven thirty, and he picked up.

  “So. Are you ready?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s lovely to hear from you too, Faye.”

  She snorted, as if to eliminate pleasantries altogether. “You’ve got an AMA scheduled for noon. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” It was his first solo Ask Me Anything, and he supposed he was as ready as one could be for the possibility of thousands of people firing random questions at him through cyberspace. He’d done this with Delysia once or twice, but she’d been the one fielding the questions.

  “Good.” She rattled off what they’d already discussed at their last meeting. He could pick any questions he wanted, skip any he wanted. Obnoxious people would ask invasive things. He should take every opportunity possible to mention an endorsement, and...

  “What about questions regarding Delysia?” he asked flatly. She’d kept her promise to leave him alone, but hadn’t announced they were separating, not on social media. Secretly he’d held a hope that this was significant, but her silence over the past several weeks had dashed that hope.

  “Don’t answer any questions about her.”

  “Faye,” he said.

  “All right, that might be a little...difficult. Choose one or two easy ones that have to do with the Gilded Express, maybe? It’s only an hour. You can fend off the shippers for that period of time.”

  “The shippers?”

  “Yeah, short for relationship?”

  Silence.

  Faye sighed loudly. “It’s a term that means they’re a fan of the relationship—”

  “Never mind.” Alexander had no interest in trying to master yet another internet abbreviation.

  “Very well. Take your time, and text me if you get stuck anywhere.” He heard Faye exhale through her nose. “People are sort of curious since you’re so private compared to Delysia, so this should be interesting.”

  Twenty minutes later, Alexander discovered that “interesting” didn’t begin to cut it. He introduced himself in two or three brief lines, dutifully sipped his brandy alexander (the chef had thought himself very clever, at that) and peered a little nearsightedly at the questions popping up on his screen.

  Are ur glasses real

  “Well, yes,” he said with some surprise. “I’m quite nearsighted.”

  Where’s your jacket from??? I Love it!!!

  “Why, thank you! It’s an old jacket of my father’s. Brooks Brothers, probably purchased sometime in the ’70s. The fabric is absolutely wonderful. A Prince Charles tartan check rendered in tweed—”

  Outside the app, a panicked text from Faye popped up. What r u doing?! Shut up about the friggin tweed and take another question!

  Alexander got the hang of it as he went on, and he actually found himself enjoying himself. Questions about Delysia were far and few between. Their fans, for the most part, seemed to believe her statement and respected her request for privacy, and after one or two “thank you so much for your concerns,” he relaxed even more, began to enjoy it, even.

  We r in your class this semester, the first session was amazing. thanks prof Hill!

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled, sat back in the butter-soft leather chair that had been reserved for him. Then—

  Tell us about Delysia. We wanna know everything!!!

  It took all of Alexander’s willpower not to react on camera. By the time he was able to focus enough to consider ignoring the question, others had jumped on the bandwagon.

  Oh, yes!

  awwwwww yes y’all are so romantic

 
i love the way you kiss her, it’s so sweet and old fashioned

  Alexander felt a lump rise to his throat. He could see notifications piling up in his text app, rather frantically—Faye must be trying to detour the conversation back to safe waters. He considered it for a moment, then bit his lip. He could sound flip and faux-cheerful for a number of other things, but not Delysia. And not tonight.

  “Oh, a lot of questions about Delysia,” he said slowly, and he bit his bottom lip hard before releasing it. “Well. We met...here, actually. A mutual friend introduced us—” And here he thought of Faye, her sharp lines and quick tongue, and the way she’d quietly championed Delysia loyally, unfailingly. “We didn’t hit it off at first, but I showed her one of my restoration projects, and she took me to a nightclub—my first, actually. We found some mutual interests.”

  There were other questions pouring in: did they live together, were they going to get married, how much older was he than her? Alexander, though, took a deep breath and barged ahead, ignoring them. This might be—probably was—the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but he was going to do it anyway. What the hell did he have to lose? It wasn’t like she’d stop talking to him a second time because of this.

  “I miss her,” he said simply. “So much I can feel it physically, sometimes. We haven’t been dating for very long, but she’s become an enormous part of my life in a very short time. Maybe it’s because I’m such a reclusive fellow, but I haven’t dated much, and there are very few people who’ve gotten as close to me as Delysia has managed to. I can’t be selfish; she’s a dedicated and loving daughter, and her mother needs her right now, much more than I can claim to. But Delysia is an extraordinary woman, and I can’t wait to see her again, in whatever capacity she wants me.”

  He was quite out of breath when he finished his little speech, but his timing was good, for the clock showed that the end of the AMA was only a couple minutes away. He quickly thanked everyone for coming, wished them all a wonderful afternoon, and hoped they enjoyed their lunches. People were still flooding the video with hearts and smiley faces and hug emojis when he logged out, and took the deepest breath he’d taken all day.