Page 1 of Charming
Knee deep in clothes when my phone starts ringing, I regret my impulsive decision to clean out my closet. I wonder if climbing the Matterhorn resembles the feeling I have as I move to get my phone. Catching my foot in the neckline of some random cast away garment, I stumble and almost fall on my face. Righting myself and cursing under my breath, I snatch my phone from my dresser and answer breathlessly, “Hello?”
“Hi! My name is Tiffany, and I’m looking for a Miss Gabriella Barrie, please.”
“Yes, this is she,” I respond absently looking at the small round solitaire engagement ring sitting erectly on my finger startled at the realization that it wouldn’t be my name for too much longer. The thought makes my stomach twist uncomfortably and I place my hand on my tummy trying unsuccessfully to knead the pain away.
The voice on the other end, obviously astute to my distraction, reorients me. “Uh, hello…hello…Hi, Gabriella! Like I said before, my name is Tiffany. I’m calling from Fairytale Vacations – where it’s our job to give you a happily ever after! I’m so excited to let you know that you’ve won a complimentary all inclusive vacation to an exclusive resort in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.”
“Seriously? A vacation? That’s the best you’ve got? Very funny. Katie put you up to this right? It’s not funny,” I tell Tiffany or whatever her name really is with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. I’ve never won anything in my life.
“Um, no. I’m not sure who Katie is,” she says and I can hear the confusion in her voice, which brings a moment of pause. “You attended a bridal expo last month and visited our booth,” she states. The completely overwhelming experience comes crashing through my memory like a tidal wave. I had reluctantly attended the event at the insistence of Jeremy’s mother Mariel. Hundreds of vendors were all crowded into a small space handing out samples, taking my name, number, and email address for all kinds of things from a free limo ride, wedding cake, even a wedding gown. Mariel was insistent that I participate in every available give-away – she even had pre-printed labels with all of my personal information to enable quick entry. The whole experience left me with handfuls of contacts, and several ideas, but more unsettled about the wedding details I wanted than when I arrived.
“Yes, I remember the expo.”Do I ever.
“Great! Well we drew your name from over ten thousand entries, and you have won an all expenses paid trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico for two!”
“Well…wow. That’s amazing!” I reply feeling speechless and shocked.
She laughs lightly, “I’ll send you an email with details on how to book your vacation, all the resort information, other activities that are available for you to schedule, as well as vouchers for the restaurants on site and the day spa.”
“That all sounds…incredible!”
“It really is. All you need to do is decide when you want to go and then arrange your flight accommodations with us – easy peasy!” She says excitedly and I quietly snort at her expression. “Well of course, you’ll probably want to buy a new swimsuit or two. Or heck, go crazy and get a new wardrobe,” she says laughing at herself.
“Well this is really great timing actually. My wedding is coming up soon and we were still trying to work out honeymoon details. I guess this settles that.” I can’t help but feel excited about going to Cabo - I’ve never been to Mexico before. My mind is already spinning with visions of myself lying in the sun, walking on the beach, enjoying a massage at the spa, and sneaking kisses from my new husband on the beach at night as we bask in the moonlight while listening to the ocean beat against the shore.
“That’s great, but just so you know, the voucher is for two people -anytwo people. So if for some reason you decide to do something else for your honeymoon… or for any other reason… you can use it for anyone, as long as you are one of the users. And you have a year in which to use the package.”
“Thank you so much, this is really great. Jeremy, my fiancé, won’t believe it!”
“You’re welcome. Congratulations. I just need to verify your email address, please.”
“Sure,” I reply and give her the information.
“Okay, I’ll get that email confirmation sent over. Congratulations again, and may all your dreams come true.”
My vacation started off as a way to escape. I needed to get away and wanted relaxation, but most importantly, I wanted to have some much needed and overdue fun. Where better to get that than a place offering plenty of sun, sand, and the healing powers of the ocean? And I would not do it alone - I’d have my bestie by my side; the person who knows me best and loves me most. How lucky I am to have such a meaningful friendship with her. I knew this time away with her would help heal the cracks of betrayal my heart was carrying. If I were lucky, my wounded pride would also be restored. And god knows I needed a saturating reorientation to the single lifestyle after being in a committed relationship for three years. Or at leastIwas committed. What I didn’t expect now, two weeks later, was to be returning home more broken hearted than I was when I left.
Walking away, well I guess it’s more like sneaking away, from the man I somehow managed to fall in love with over the last week, feels impossible. After returning my rental car and checking in for my flight home, an overwhelming urge to bend over at my waist and scream runs through me. I want to rant and rave at the unfairness of falling for a man that can never be mine. At having a stepmother from hell that’s in part influencing my decision to leave. For not being brave enough to say goodbye to his face. For letting my heart shred into so many pieces I wonder if it can ever possibly find its way back together again.
Fate is a sick and twisted bitch and I’d really like to give her a nasty catfight. I’d totally pull her hair, scratch out her eyes, kick, and fight dirty. That bitch fate deserves it.
The feelings are so visceral that it takes everything I have to keep them reigned in. Yet, somehow I manage. Barely. I keep it together as I check in my luggage and obtain a boarding pass. I exude a false calm as I go through security, removing each item I’m carrying to be inspected, take my shoes off and wait patiently for my turn. I even manage a smile when the customs agent greets me and I get randomly selected for a more detailed search of my items. The official pulls everything out of my carry-ons, almost making me laugh at the look on his face when he sees the results of my hurried packing. He opens things and peers inside like I might have contraband hiding. In lipstick tubes? Geesh. Finally, he concedes that I am harmless and stamps my passport while ushering a sigh. What? He’s disappointed? I continue to keep it together, though I swallow repeatedly to keep the emotions from being emitted. Proceeding to the gate area, I search the corridor for the nearest restroom, rush inside, lock myself in a stall, and finally cry unrelenting tears.
My cries and sobs become howls at some point. Not intentionally; but I produce babbly, high pierced sounds like a dying animal. I become aware of this because a few people knock on the door to ask me if I’m okay. One asks if there’s anything she can get me, or anyone she can send in after me. It’s nice of them and I appreciate the kindness. But it also further humiliates me. I manage to utter syllables meant to tell each I’m fine, but I’m not sure the message is clear. Perhaps it is betrayed by the immediate resumption of wailing. Grabbing a handful of toilet paper, I blow my nose loudly, dab at my face, and try my best to quit crying, knowing that it’s not helping or changing anything. Logic, however, gives way again to emotion. I try another rational approach. There was no other option. Leaving this way is easier – simpler – and the right thing to do. Saying goodbye in person would have broken me beyond repair. Especially if I saw in his eyes that my leaving wasn’t as hard for him as it was for me. There’s no way I could face the, “thanks for a great time,” line I’d been likely to receive – not when for me it was so much more than that. Tears set in yet again. Where do they all come from?
I’m being ridiculous – I know this. I’ve told myself repeatedly that any kind of relationship or legitimate feelings for someone after a mere week is ridiculous. I need to simply be thankful for the time we had together, the fact that he helped restore my confidence and made me feel beautiful and cherished when I needed it most. I need to move on – to get back to my life and remember this time with fondness. If only my heart – and wherever these tears get formed - would listen to my head.
“Gabriella Barrie, please proceed to gate 18C. Again, this is the last call for Gabriella Barrie. Please proceed to gate 18C. Your plane is leaving.”
My eyes widen at the words I hear through the intercom. How long have they been calling me?Oh my god!
I claw at the roll of toilet paper to clean up my business. How could my bladder have had anything to empty after all of the water I used in tears? And what timing. Fate – you really are a bitch. I take another large bunch for good measure since I don’t have any tissues. I jump up and lift my undies and jean capris over my hips and begin fumbling with the buttons. In my haste, my fingers decide to quit working properly and I fumble like an idiot. It doesn’t help that the buttonhole always seems too small for the button and I struggle every time I wear these. With a curse, I give up and tug my zipper up and leave the button for later. I’ll fix it when I’m on the plane. Grabbing my things, I spring through the open stall door, hurriedly wash my hands, and dry them on my pants as I make a mad dash for the door.
Maybe it’s no surprise that running through the airport as fast as you can while simultaneously trying to keep your pants up is not an easy thing to do. Maybe later I’ll laugh about what a hot mess I must look like right now. Huge bag over my arm, wild hair flying about my face, a hand at my waist holding up my pants while my other hand wheels a bag behind me that keeps toppling over. Heavy beads of sweat form and begin to fall from my red swollen face and I feel trickles of perspiration making a mad dash down my backside. I’m the only person alive, late for her own flight while sittinginthe freaking airport. How long was I in that restroom anyway? Clearly, it’s a black hole in there. These are travel hints they should tell people.
Leaving my pants undone was clearly a mistake. With each slap of my feet on the ground, I can feel my zipper sliding down tooth by tooth. My jeans get looser and looser around my waist. Gripping them tighter, I continue to run, muttering apologies as I bump into other passengers and almost take a woman with a small dog out. Seeing the gate ahead, I move faster and yell to the worker at the door, letting go of my pants, I start waving my arm in the air hoping to attract her attention.
“Wait! Please! I’m here!” I yell, feeling panicked, my breath coming in pants. She smiles kindly when she sees me, which is more than I deserve considering I’ve likely held them up. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. Lo siento,” I add for good measure considering I’m at the airport in Mexico. Handing her my boarding pass, I watch her scan it before she looks up. I’m not sure what she sees in my face, but there’s kindness in her eyes as she gestures to the door.
