Page 8 of Kept in the Dark
“So… you’re all alone?” he asks, and there’s a strange glint in his eye. “You need someone to show you around?”
“Um… no. I have some family nearby,” I say, just so he doesn’t think I’m sad and alone. I might as well be, because I don’t really plan on hitting any of them up just because of something as tenuous as a distant family tie, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He nods, but looks distracted again. “Right. So. You wanna dance?”
“No,” I say, leaning away as he sways into my space.
“Wanna go up to my room?” he forges on in a much lower voice, placing his hand on my thigh.
“Hey, Kyle, my man!” a passing bro exclaims.
Kyle straightens, looking startled, and immediately removes his hand and moves to the far edge of his seat. “G-Town,” he shouts back with a loud laugh, pointing with finger guns.
“G-Town, down to clown!”
While they go back and forth, singing the song of their people, I stare down at the place on my leg where his hand was, settling into a serious case of the ick.
The way he pulled back… it was like he didn’t want to get caught by his friend making a move on me.
Maybe that’s not what it was. Maybe I’m jaded. But I’ve worked in healthcare for nearly a decade, and it’s been whittling away at my faith in humanity for a while.
Regardless, any guy who doesn’t want to be seen showing interest in me isn’t worth my time.
He does nothing to disprove the assumption, either, as he waits until his friend is out of sight before leaning back to me and waggling his eyebrows. “So? What do you say? I’ll give you a key, you can meet me up there in, like, 10 minutes?” He reaches into his pocket and holds the electronic room card up between his index and middle fingers.
So we won’t be seen together. Called it.
I’m locked in indecision. The word “no” really ought to be a complete sentence, but he seems like the kind of guy who’d hurl appearance-based insults if you denied him, even if you did it gently. And I’m already in such a weird mood, I know it would probably ruin my night. I don’t want to give him that power.
Before I can decide on what to say, he tosses down the room key, and it clangs against the plate. “Meet you up there. I gotta go take a leak,” he says, and leaves.
While I stare at the room key mutinously and contemplate tossing it into the fountain, the music shifts into a slow song, and everyone starts clapping. When I look around, I see why.
Jenny and Matt had their first dance already, but you’d think they were the only two people in the room with the way they’re locked in on each other. He’s whispering in her ear and gently running his hands up and down her bare arms, and she’s pressed so close to him that his legs are lost, swallowed in her voluminous tulle skirt. They’re smiling soft, private smiles at each other.
My breath catches.
And there it is, the real reason for my bad mood amidst this beautiful night and wonderful occasion—loneliness. And fuck Kyle, this isn’t abouthim. It’s an ache in the center of my chest, full of ugly emotions that I’ve been trying to ignore all night, like spite and frustration and sadness.
I’m used to feeling lonely because of my lifestyle and having to constantly start over, but this runs deeper. There’s a difference between being lonely and feeling alone.
And nothing makes you feel quite soaloneas the celebration of someone else’s love.
I… need some air.
I stand, wobbling a little and unsteady in my heels, and head for the terrace that leads down to the formal garden area. As I descend to the gravel path lined with rose bushes and boxwood, I catch sight of shadows and shapes moving around in the lingering twilight—occasional flashes of silk in the up-lit corners of the garden and giggling lovers stealing moments. With no real destination in mind, I follow the path shakily, letting it lead me around the house towards an overlook with a bench.
The perfect spot for a solo pity party.
By the time I reach my destination, the blisters on my pinky toes have broken, and I’m gritting my teeth against the pain. Gratefully, I sink onto the stone bench, facing the break in the trees to admire the view as I remove my shoes.
When you move around as much as I do, some aspects of the cities start to blur together. But there’s one thing everywhere has in common, and that’s the brief time in the pastels of twilight on a clear fall evening when everything looks perfect from afar. In the purples and pinks of the sunset bleeding into the dull blue-black of night, the cityscape of Ulysses is thrown into brilliant relief. It’s too far to see, but I know the facades of the buildings are dark, setting off the few lights shining from windows of apartments and office buildings where some people haven’t ended their day yet.
There’s something sad and lonely, yet strangely comforting about how full the world is of places I’ll never go, and people I’ll never meet doing work I’ll never know about. Everywhere around me, people are going on with their own small lives in complete parallel, and as ignorant of my existence as I am of theirs. I’m like a secret observer.
I’m shaken from my reverie by the sound of gravel crunching underfoot. I glance over to the right, expecting to find someone out for a smoke or wandering and texting, then do a double-take.
Being a tall girl myself, I tend to notice the heads that stand above others in a room. So I don’t know how I missed him before, because this guy would be a headandshoulders above the crowd. He’s not lanky, the way some very tall men are; he’s bulky. Buff. And he’s wearing that suit like he’s doing it a favor. It clings to a broad chest and thick arms, tapering down and following the line of his waist so perfectly that there’s no way it isn’t custom. The thickest, roundest ass I’ve ever seen peeks at me from under the split of his jacket.
