I will not cry, I will not cry, I chant to myself, trying in vain to keep the tears from flowing. I am glad I insisted on being seated in the back away from most of the other guests. Even this small comfort doesn't bring relief as I once again berate myself for coming here in the first place. If I would have known how many couples would be here, I would have given my reservations to a friend and stayed home. Sighing, I admit the real reason I took this vacation was to get away and for a little while, to forget the past. A single tear slips down my cheek and I angrily brush it away. I am a fool, I think to myself. I will enjoy this vacation, I firmly tell myself. I dab my eyes with my napkin and gulping the last of the wine, I signal the waiter for another drink. When he comes, I order something stronger than wine, even though I know I will probably regret it later. As I wait for him to return, I look out the window at the city lights and try not to think of the past. But the bustle of the city and the merriment I see and hear only help to amplify my sadness and pain.
An hour and two drinks later, I am ready to crawl into bed. I am glad I chose to eat at the hotel's restaurant instead of venturing outside. Looking down at the remnants of my dinner, I realize I drank more than I ate which explains my predicament. Oh well, I think to myself - it's not as if anyone cares. I flag down the waiter again motioning for the check. He looks at me funny and I wonder if I spilled something on myself, but before I can ask, he tells me that my check has already been paid.
"B... B... By who," I stammer to him.
"I can not say miss," he replies.
Looking at him, I want to berate him and state that I am more than capable of paying my own bill. But then I start to wonder why, because this has never happened to me. Then it hits me, how pathetic I must look, which brought about someone's pity. "This is just great," I whisper tearfully. I stand up too fast and almost pass out, but the waiter is quick on his feet and grabs my arm. I thank him when the floor stops moving, and decline his invitation to get someone to help me. Luckily, the restaurant is pretty empty, so I stumble my way to the elevator, and pray I will get there before the tears come. It does and I clumsily push the button of the floor I am on.
As soon as the doors close, I lose it. I crumple to the floor and cry. I pull up my knees and bury my head in my arms and let the tears flow. I know I should stop but I find I can't. When the elevator stops at my floor, I am too upset to get out. I try to compose myself before the doors close, but I'm too late and the elevator moves again. I stand up slowly and wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I sniffle softly and move to push the button to my floor again. As always, I am weary after crying. I have just enough energy to get to my room I think. When the doors open again, I step out and stumble right into a man. "God I'm so sorry," I stammer and try to move past him. But, my overworked mind and body finally give up on me, and as I turn around suddenly, the world spins and for the first time in my life, I faint.
* * * *
When I wake, the first thought that crosses my mind is pain. I groan out loud as the slight movement of my head makes me want to die. Just what I need, the beginnings of a hangover, I grumble to myself. I know that I need to get up and try to find some aspirin and water, but every movement makes me cry.
"You shouldn't move so much," a soft voice whispers to me. I wasn't aware of anyone else in the room, so his voice startles me into sitting right up -- which is not a good thing in my condition. Immediately, I cry out and fall back into bed. Seconds later, I try in vain to get out of bed as the nausea hits me and I feel like throwing up. A basin gets shoved under my mouth just in time. When I'm finished, the basin moves away and I fall weakly back into the bed.
"Try to sleep," the same soft voice whispers to me, as a cool cloth bathes my forehead.
"This will help," another soft voice whispers as I feel someone move me into a slight sitting position. I feel two pills get placed gently in my hand at the same time as a cold glass of water hits my lips. I sip sparingly and take the pills which I pray will make me better. The glass moves away and I feel myself being gently lowered back into the bed. The cool cloth returns to gently wipe my face once more. As I drift away, I feel the covers being tucked around me and two soft kisses, one on each cheek.
* * * *
"She should not be alone," I hear him softly say to the other. Awake but not awake, I lie still on my side and listen to them talk. Their voices are deep and husky -- demanding yet gentle. I can only imagine the faces that go with them. I know they are speaking of me, but I wonder how they know about me. The thought crosses my mind that I am in bed with two perfect strangers, in a city far from home, and this whole situation is probably not going to end well. But, there's something about them that makes me feel like I can trust them. Still, I am wary and I begin to think of ways to extricate myself from this situation. My thoughts come to a halt when I realize they have stopped talking. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes to find the most deep sapphire blue eyes I have ever seen looking right at me. My mouth opens in surprise but no sounds come out. A chuckle from behind me brings a blush to my cheeks, as I roll onto my back and look at an exact replica of the other.
"Identical twins," the gorgeous god in front of me says with a smile. "My name is Jonathan and my brother is Alexandar," he continues. "And you are ...," he asks softly.
"My uh, name is, uh, Elizabeth," I stammer foolishly.