"Come and get it!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smalls Paulette)

CHAPTER THREE

"Put the bags on the bed."

Carrying two suitcases and an overnight bag, the bellboy managed to unlock the door without putting anything down. He hurried past Val into the room, dropping the luggage onto an enormous king-size mattress. Then he went around the bed and opened the curtain which completely covered the far wall. The curtain revealed a large double glass door, a balcony beyond, and a breathtaking view of a white sandy beach and the wide blue Atlantic Ocean beyond that. Bright clear Florida sunshine slashed in, giving the room a false cheeriness.

"The air conditioner and controls," the bellboy said, pointing, his voice lilting with a noticeable Spanish accent, "are over there, on the wall."

He walked back past Val again, toward the door. On the right side of the room there was another door, leading into the bathroom. He opened the door, leaned in and switched on the light.

"Will that be all?" he asked.

"Yes." As he turned to leave, Val called out. "Wait. There is something else."

He turned back toward Val expectantly, his dark, deep eyes glistening with awareness. Long black wavy hair framed his young, handsome face. The grin which wrinkled his thick, sensual lips was lopsided, purposely sexy, she guessed, revealing strong white teeth. She judged him to be in his early twenties, but maybe he was younger.

"Yes?" he asked.

"What is your name?"

"Luis."

"Here, Luis, this is for you." She handed him a five dollar tip. "Thank you."

His eyes glistened when he saw the money, and the grin widened into a genuinely pleased smile. He nodded firmly to Val.

"Thank you very much, Miss."

"That's Mrs. I'm married."

"Oh. Well, thank you very much, Mrs.," he continued to thank her, even as she led him to the door and urged him out into the hallway. "If you need anything, Mrs., you just call for Luis."

"Thank you." Val closed the door.

The room was a long, wide rectangle, the sliding glass doors and view of the ocean at one end, the door to the hotel room at the other end. On the floor was a thick shag rug, bright ornate, matching the orange and brown curtains which covered the far wall. The huge bed was the central object on the left side of the room, taking up most of the wall. Flanking it on both sides were two end tables with unmatched lamps. Across from the bed was a wall of dressers, all low and modern, except for the last piece which had a mirror. There was a television on one of the dressers, and Val switched it on. Color.

On one of the end tables she saw the telephone, and remembered her promise to Bev back home. When she arrived safely in Miami, she was supposed to call up Bev – asking for herself – so that Bev would know everything was all right. Kicking her shoes off, Val pushed aside one of the suitcases, and sat down on the bed. On the telephone there was a complicated list of instructions for making cabs, but she was in no mood to read it. She picked up the receiver and dialed the operator.

"Operator, I'd like to place a long distance call, person-to-person, to…"

"You can dial that directly, you know."

"Yes, operator, I realize that." Val sighed with exasperation. "Would you please place the call for me anyway. It's a long distance, person-to-person call to a Mrs. Beverly Adamson, Long Island, New York."

"One moment, please."

While she was waiting for the call to go through, Val opened the wide, deep drawer of the night table on which the telephone rested. Inside was a handful of pamphlets for tourist attractions, some post cards and stationery from the hotel, and a Bible. She pushed the drawer closed with her knee.

"Hi, Bev, it's me!" Val cried out, glad to hear a familiar voice. Bev was arguing with the operator, trying to tell her that Mrs. Valerie Barstow was not in at the moment. She was so intent on following instructions that she failed to realize Val had asked for her instead of herself, as they planned. "Beverly, it's me – Val."

"Val?" Bev's voice sounded confused. "But I thought we weren't…"

The operator whined nasally.

"Take the call, Bev," Val insisted. "I'll explain in a second."

A moment later, Beverly was on the line alone, without the operator. "What's the matter, Val? Was the plane delayed or something?"

"What do you mean? I'm calling you from Florida. I'm in my hotel room right now."

"But you sound so clear," Bev insisted. "The way you sound whenever I speak to you on the phone. How could it be that you're there already? What have I been home from the airport for, an hour? An hour an a half? How could you get to Florida so quick?"

"Two hours and twenty-five minutes, Bev, from Kennedy to the airport here in Miami. Figure another half hour to get from the airport to the hotel. It's been – what?" She consulted her watch. "A little bit more than three hours since I took off."

"That's amazing. I can't believe it. You sound so close!" Bev thought for a moment.

"Say, how come you asked for me? I thought you were supposed to…"

"I felt like talking to somebody. All of a sudden I felt all alone in the world. It was a little spooky, I guess. There are good and bad things about being on your own, as I'm about to find out, I suspect."

"So tell me: how was the flight? How is it down there? What's the weather like?"

Val grinned. "The flight was spectacular. Oh, God, it was so beautiful – the sky, the clouds. So blue the sky was, and the clouds – like cotton. It was breathtaking, especially when we broke through the clouds when we were going to land. You could see everything – green patches of fields, rivers, wiggly highways with tiny little cars on them, everything. You know how it looks in the movies? Well, that's just the way it was. Beautiful."

Bev sounded excited. "You lucky dog," she said, forgetting herself, then remembering too late. She paused awkwardly, then tried to steer the conversation another way. "Uh, weren't you frightened or anything?"

"No, not at all. There was, hardly any sensation of motion at all. It was like riding on a giant elevator."

"I hate flying. It just scares the hell out of me."

Val found herself rubbing her hands up and down over her thighs and knees. She found a small stain on the skirt of her dress, and she scratched at it with her fingernail.

"Say, have you heard anything from Doug?" she asked.

"From Doug? Why would he get in touch with me?"

Val shifted on the bed. "No reason. I just thought that maybe – you know. Being next door neighbors and all, I just thought you might have noticed – something…"

"No, I haven't seen Doug at all."

"You didn't notice if the car was in the driveway, did you?"

"No. Do you want me to look?"

"No, no, that's all right," she quickly said. Val laughed nervously. "Say, you didn't happen to notice whether he's received any visitors? Any female visitors?"

"That I would have noticed," Bev said. "If you want, I'll keep an eye open and let you know."

Val shook her head. "No, don't bother." She felt foolish, embarrassed. "I don't think I really want to know anyhow."

Bev sounded sympathetic. "Yeah, I know what you mean. He didn't tell you – uh – where he was going to spend his vacation, did he?"

"No, he didn't. No questions, asked, at all. I was just… wondering. Curious, that's all."

"Yeah, I know."

"But, God, you should see Miami. It's beautiful. And it's changed so much since I was here last. That was on our honeymoon," she added thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I'll bet it is. Probably all built up and everything. And crowded, I'll bet. Say; you never told me how it was down there, the weather and all. Is it hot? Sunny?"

"When we landed," Val said, grateful to have something neutral to talk about, "the pilot announced the temperature. Eighty-three."

"Sonofabitch, and here it's already over ninety. And humid! Makes you feel like you want to peel your skin right off. I hate summer."

"It's beautiful here. A cool breeze blowing in from the ocean. I can see the beach from my window. In fact, I'm looking at it right now. The sea is very, very blue up to a point, then it turns a deep, bright green. Really, it's quite spectacular."

For some reason, the conversation lapsed into a long silence, and Val found herself staring out through the glass doors, looking at the beach. The ocean was rolling in noiselessly, foamy white bubbles breaking off the tops of waves, and hundreds of bathers splashed and swam and littered the endless stretch of bleached sand. Everything looked so faraway and small, as if none of it had anything at all to do with her life. She felt cut off from them, cut off from the rest of the world.

"How you feeling?" Bev asked finally.

The sound of her voice brought Val back. "Oh, all right, I guess. As well as can be expected. It's too soon, really, to feel any different."

"It must be rough."

Val shrugged philosophically. "But necessary. I guess there's not much I can do about it. I've just got to think; get my head right. Then – who knows?"

"Are you scared?"

"A little. But – it's exciting. Really, it is. It's like I'm on this great adventure. For the first time in six years, Bev, I'm on my own. Nobody there next to me, no Doug to count on. It's scary… but exciting."

Bev giggled knowingly. "Meet any… men yet?"

Val flushed with pride. "No, but I got flirted with three times. That's something that hasn't happened in years. Being on your own can do wonders for a woman's ego."

"Three times! Tell me about them."

Val shrugged it off. "Oh, it was nothing big. The man next to me on the airplane, some salesman for a publishing house, he invited me out to dinner…"

"Are you going to go?"

"No. Don't be silly."

"What about the other two?"

"At the airport a soldier or marine tried to pick me up. He wanted to help me with my luggage. The other one was, the cabdriver who took me from the airport. He kept on telling me he'd drive me around Miami for free. Only the kind of driving he was talking about you don't do in a cab."

"Are you going to – do anything?"

Val smiled. "Do anything?"

"You know what I mean. You know… if you meet the right guy, are you gonna… mess around? I mean, Doug would never know, right?"

"I haven't thought that far in advance," Val lied. "But, I guess, if I met the right man – why not? No questions asked."

"Lucky bitch," Bev said, then remembered again. Her mood changed from envy to compassion. "Val, are you sure you're doing the right thing? This is such a big step."

"I'm sure, Bev," Val said, standing and stretching. She walked over to the glass doors, put her face right up against the cool glass, and stared out at the silent beach down below. The wire from the telephone tugged at her ear, like a link with the past, trying to draw her back. "I feel very positive about this decision. It's the right one. I have to find out if I still love Doug. And, more important, I have to know if I still want to be married to him."

Beverly sighed. "Good luck, darlin'. I just have this terrible feeling you're gonna need it."

Val turned her back to the beach, walking back into the room, the twisted wire of the telephone curling across the shaggy orange rug. She stood in front of the night table, looking down at the telephone.

"Say, I'd better be hanging up," Val said, smiling wistfully. "I'm really not next door, you know. This is going to cost me a fortune."

"Yes?"

"Call me if you need me… please. It doesn't matter what time it is – just call."

"Thanks, Bev. I'll keep it in mind. I'd better hang up. Say hello to Ernie for me. And the kids."

Valerie hung up, and for two or three minutes she did nothing but stare down at the telephone. She was very aware of the silence filling up her room. It had a texture, and in her thoughts, in her imagination, she felt as if she could touch it, could feel it rubbing between her fingers. She picked up the telephone and dialed the Front Desk.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Barstow in room…" – from the bed, where she'd thrown it, she picked up the room key – "… 947. I just checked in a few moments ago, and I seem to have misplaced my room key. Would you send me up another, please… Thank you… oh, by the way, there was a very nice young man who helped me with my luggage – Luis is his name… Yes, that's him. If he's available, would you have him bring the key to me. I'd like to give him the rest of his tip… Yes. Thank you… I'll be waiting."