Mother was aflutter when I called asking for her
advice. Despite her excitement, she warned me to be careful and not to keep my
expectations too high. I shrugged it off, convincing myself she was just being
a mother and worrying after me.
The day passed so slowly and I was nearly unable to
conceal my irritation. I constantly checked my phone and my watch, hoping the
time would have flown by in some great leap since last I looked. Instead, the
seconds crept by, hardly seeming to move. By the time it was six, I could
hardly contain myself. I was sure Lani would be on time, gleefully hoping she
had been as excited and anxious. Maybe she had been unable to enjoy the museums
due to her excitement, bouncing from one to the next in an elated fervor.
At two until six, I arrived at the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools and ordering water. The petite bartender was back tonight,
and she was joined by a tall blonde; the taller one took a note from by the
cash register and made her way towards me. “Vous vous appelez Matt?” she asked.
“Oui,” I replied, confused.
“Connaissez-vous une femme…euh, Lani?” she asked, glancing
at the folded paper in her hands.
“Oui.”
“Cette note est pour vous.” She laid the paper before
me and left.
I regarded the note warily, suspicious of what it
could say. The worst raced through my mind: hospitalization, death, sudden
departure, injury. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest and my hand began to
shake as I unfolded the note.
Dearest Matt,
I apologize for my absence. I will not
be able to make it to dinner with you tonight. I know I said I would, but I
can’t. You think I deserve something better but I really don’t. And even if I
did, I don’t deserve you. I picked you because you were young and handsome. But
I didn’t expect you to be so sweet and vulnerable.
I’m no good for you. I don’t deserve the
kindness or the honesty you’ve shown me. You’re the first man to buy me a gift
or a drink and not expect sex to follow. And you’re the first man to ever tell
me he respected me and wanted to treat me right. For that, thank you.
But you deserve better than me. I told
you, I’m used to short things. It’s easier that way, less messy. I can’t give
you what you want. That is why I can’t come to dinner. If I had come, you’d be
wasting time with me, when, in a few months, if not a few weeks, I know you’d
be bored and see me for what I really am.
The woman you’re looking for is out
there somewhere and she will give you all the love you deserve. I’m sorry I can’t
be her.
Lani
P.S. Don’t think on sad things, Matt.
This is Paris after all.
I stared at the note for a long while, reading and
re-reading the words she had written. It was a ruse; it had to be. But as the
clock struck seven, I began to accept it wasn’t. I ordered a whiskey and downed
it immediately. Then I ordered for a refill. Screw my one drink limit. So what
if I’d kept it for nearly four years now. I should have listened to my mother
and controlled my wishful thinking. Even before that, I should have trusted
myself and not entertained her flirting.
And yet, when I closed my eyes, I could feel her lips
on mine, or her hand gently squeezing my own, and I knew those had been real.
Those had been sincere.
I read the last paragraph over and over again. I eventually
wandered to the front desk, hoping to locate Lani so I could maybe talk sense
into her. After all, I wanted to know who had told her she wasn’t good enough.
Who had said she couldn’t be the one to love me?
After providing some monetary incentive, the desk
assistant told me no one named Lani had stayed at the hotel in the last week. She
repeated this multiple times before I finally conceded and left for my room. There
I paced along the foot of the bed, poring over her letter and muttering
theories to myself. I wanted to explain away the pain. How was it possible to
feel so hurt over someone I barely knew? How had I been so blind to the signs
warning me to run the other way? Most importantly, I wanted to know why she had
left. If she had stayed, who knew what could have happened. For all we knew,
she very well might have been the one.
But that’s one thing I would never have the
satisfaction of knowing.
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