A very big thanks to CarsonShepherd, Impressive, English Lady and Vella for all of their help!
As I was packing my bag to go home, I once again said a silent Thank You to my editor for giving me this assignment. It was Valentine's weekend and I had been filled with dread as I thought about spending it moping around my flat watching television and eating ice cream out of the carton.
It was the one-year anniversary of the end of my marriage. I was feeling appropriately introspective. Also, lonely and self-indulgent. Pity party for one, anybody? Just as I was about to pop another bag of microwave kettle-corn and pour a Captain and Coke, I got the call from my boss.
"Hey, I know you're busy sitting around in your pajamas and eating junk, but I need you for something right now. Think you can pull yourself away?"
I grumbled something about having a real life but the fact that I was talking around a mouth full of Cheetos made it sound slightly less than convincing.
"Sure you do, sweetie. OK, here's the thing. The remodel of the Ville Belle is finally complete and they want a reporter to come down and stay for the weekend. Big suite, free food, free drinks, big hot tub... Please just give them a decent review when you're done, they're interested in buying advertising. Let's see, today's Friday – you can check in tonight and stay till Sunday noon. I need 500 words by Sunday at 3:00 p.m."
I reminded her that I'm the parenting columnist. I don't know the first thing about writing a hotel review but she flatly stated that everyone else was already busy for the holiday weekend and I was the only choice. She also promised to send me a writing guide for the piece.
"I promise it will be painless, just connect the dots and fill in the blanks. Come on, you can even take your Ben and Jerry's with you. You'll have cable TV, I know you can find some sulky chick flick and spend the evening crying your eyes out. It'll be a blast, I'm sure."
But even as I was whining about needing to finish my laundry, I was pulling out my swimsuit and dreaming of a long soak in the hot tub. I agreed to go. My kids were with their dad for the weekend and I really had nothing better to do. I scribbled down the check-in information, confirmation number and the name of my contact at the hotel. It took about 15 minutes to get myself packed and loaded into my mini-van. As I was backing out of my driveway, I remembered the still-open carton of ice cream sitting on my counter and decided to run inside to grab it. Better safe than sorry.
On the drive downtown, I tuned in a local station that plays 80's rock every Friday night and sang along with Wang Chung, "Take your baby by the heel, And do the next thing that you feel." Was there ever a better song for a radio sing-along? I couldn't think of a single one.
As I pulled up in front of the newly remodeled Ville Belle in my clunky, messy family van, I decided to skip the valet parking and hoof it from the lot. The thought of one of the well turned-out drivers seeing the inside of my car filled me with dread. I felt like a frumpy mom in a grocery-getter. I managed to park and unload my luggage without incident and headed for the doors.
I walked up the short flight of stairs to the hotel's entrance and the double doors were swung open by two handsome young men in full doorman's dress who bowed and said "Welcome" simultaneously. I suddenly felt ridiculous in my jeans, cardigan and ponytail with a duffel slung over my shoulder. I smiled weakly and mumbled my thanks as I made my way to front desk.
Once there, however, I felt much better. I was greeted warmly by the staff. "Hello Mrs. Thomas. We're so glad you're here. Just one minute, there is a packet waiting for you in the office. Here it is. This is your press kit, your parking pass, your meal vouchers and your drink card. If we've forgotten anything, please just call. Now, you have a three room suite, would you like each door to have its own key, or one for all three of them?"
Stunned, I gathered myself together and told her that one key for all three rooms would be perfect. I signed for the room, picked up my packet and waited while she called the concierge to let him know that I was here. He came right over to introduce himself and immediately rang for a bellman. I felt like a bellman might be a little bit of overkill, considering that I only had the one bag, but he insisted. With the slightest touch of a French accent he said, "Please, call me if you need anything." I was in heaven.
My bellman and I took the elevator up to the twelfth floor. He led the way to my rooms and I followed, feeling a little like a newly discovered royal. I opened the door and wandered around while my bellman tried to tell me about the room. I convincingly pretended to listen (a skill mastered by any good mom) and tipped him when he seemed to be finished.
Standing alone in my rooms, I looked around. I had at my disposal two queen size beds, a king size bed and a Murphy bed. I also had three full size closets, three coffee makers, six telephones, two regular bathrooms with shower over tub units and a masterpiece of a bathroom with a giant whirlpool tub. A nice sitting area with a huge couch and two chairs was in the center of the middle room. There was a bar with a microwave and dorm fridge. This was a lot of room for one person. It felt more than a tad excessive. But oh so good, at the same time.
I stretched out on the bed and flipped on the cable TV. Strange, I typically avoided television at home, but it seemed like such a luxury to be able to just lie around and turn my brain off. I watched a little of this and a little of that and then decided I was already bored with my remote. The rooms were so big and so empty. I wished my kids were with me. I could just picture their faces as they ran around the rooms claiming beds and squealing about the big bath tub.
Well, if they weren't here, I could always call a friend to join me. I searched my head for a likely candidate. Someone who wouldn't already be out for Valentine's Day, and who didn't have kids of their own they would need to bring. Hmmm, a single, childless friend. Oh right! I have exactly one of those. Raquel! I dialed her number quickly and literally crossed my fingers while I waited for her to answer. One ring, two rings, three rings... "Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"Hello Beautiful," I said back into the phone.
"I love it when I answer the phone and it's you. You're the only person who regularly calls me Beautiful."
"Everyone else is either blind or stupid," I giggled into the phone. "So what fabulous thing are you up to on this devastatingly happy holiday?"
"Laundry. Just back from changing loads actually. I boycott Valentine's Day. It's become so Hallmark. A money maker for the rich. Sucks the blood of romance out of relationships in the name of the mighty greenback. So yeah, I'm doing laundry."
I laughed warmly at my friend's sentiments. She was a young woman, just about to graduate from college. She regularly attended gatherings of the Young Communists League and planned sneaky spy raids on the city's large corporations. Her energy was inspiring and I was glad I called.
"Here's the thing. I somehow snagged a weekend at the Ville Belle. It's a writing assignment for the magazine. They gave me this huge room, well suite of rooms really, and some wine, some cheese, and fruit. I have free food and drinks at the restaurant. And I'm dying to get in the hot tub. The downside is that I'm here alone. My kids are with their dad and I'm feeling a little blue. I was wondering if..."
"I'm on my way. Are we there for one night or two?"
Everything seemed a little brighter as I gave her directions and started changing into my swimsuit. I loved my swimsuit. I bought it last year after my separation from my husband. It was a two piece with black boy short bottoms and a black and white push-up halter top. I looked good in it. It flattered my mommy-body very nicely. It's not that I'm heavy. It's just that after three babies, I'm softer now than I used to be. My hips spread during pregnancy and were never quite the same so I've been left with a generous (but not flabby) backside. But it seems to be in balance with my large, swinging breasts which have nursed all three of my children. My waist is still pretty small, so I'm just curvy. A lover once called me "short and sweet, and good to eat." I always kind of liked that!
As I headed down to the pool area to wait for my friend, I stopped at the front desk to arrange for her meals and parking as well. They were, again, very happy to help. Once I had everything ready for her arrival, I headed for the hot tub.
There is nothing so absolutely delicious as sinking into a tub full of hot, bubbling water. The water makes you weightless and gently erases any nagging aches or pains. The sound from the jets blocks out background noises. And the bubbles tickle and massage you while obscuring the view of anything under the surface of the water. The result is an almost immediate blend of relaxation and privacy that is beyond compare.
I leaned back into the water and closed my eyes. My body went lax. My mind went blank. I was vaguely aware of the occasional person getting in and out of the hot tub, but I paid very little attention. I was blissed out and not wanting to come back. Eventually, though, my bladder got the best of me and I was forced to get out.
When I got back from the bathroom Raquel was standing near the hot tub, looking around blankly. I had a chance to look her over before she saw me and I was once again impressed. I don't call her Beautiful for nothing. She's not tall, but still taller than me. She has blond hair with nicest little bit of natural curl that hangs to her shoulder blades and big, serious brown eyes. Her pale pink skin is flawless and very healthy looking. Her entire appearance screams "innocent school girl" even from a distance. I know that she's 22, but she still looks like a teenager. Gorgeous and sweet and naïve. Looking, that is. Just as I was shaking myself out of it (as I always have to do when she's around) she turned and saw me.
Waving, I approached her and she smiled warmly at me. She walked up and started to give me a hug, but I stopped her. "I'm all wet from the hot tub, and you're still dry. Why don't you hug me after you've gotten wet too? It's miserable to have someone press their cold damp self into you!" She smiled again and took my hand instead. I led her over to the hot tub and climbed in.
