That's Not My Suitcase Page 2

  Brian and I had always talked about moving to somewhere warm, neither of us being fans of cold weather. Why we stayed in Ohio for our entire lives was beyond me. I almost hated to think about it, but there was nothing holding me here now. Well, except Sterling Creations but the majority of our work was all handled virtually, so really I could do it anywhere.

  The kids were grown and doing their own thing now, so who knew if they would settle in this area. I wasn’t ready to think about leaving the town I had lived in for more than twenty years right now, but the thought of warm weather year round was appealing. I started to realize I had a whole new life unfolding ahead of me. For the first time ever I could pretty much do anything I wanted.

  I explained what I was doing to Cathy, who had probably been in the office for hours. She was a freakish early bird, always up at four she said to get a good start on her day. I thought she was nuts. If I was up at four I’d be passed out in my desk by noon.

  I shouldn’t have been worried Cathy would be upset with me for leaving. She was thrilled. She had the same view as Nadine. She thought I had been working too hard and needed a break, and the office would be slow, nothing she couldn’t handle.

  To my surprise the next few weeks flew by. I spent most of it getting the rest of our holiday orders out, shopping for new vacation clothes to hide the weight I had gained over the last year, and almost becoming suicidal at the thought of seeing my late forties body in any kind of bathing suit. I would rate bathing suit shopping as one of the worst experiences a woman has to suffer through. A mammogram was better than this. At least it served a purpose.

  By the time the twenty-third arrived, I was finalizing my list of things to have ready for the kids when they got here for Christmas Eve. I had actually started to become more excited at the prospect of holidays, and of course was looking forward to seeing the kids. They hadn’t been home since Thanksgiving and then they hadn’t stayed long. They always had plans. I smiled remembering the days of no responsibility outside of school. That’s one thing I couldn’t fault Brian for. He did give me great kids.

  I decided in the spirit of new traditions to fix something different than the usual ham for dinner, so I thought about what the kids would like.

  I put together a menu of bacon wrapped filet, an assortment of sides, and way too many desserts. Pumpkin pie, pecan pie and Chess pie were musts in my book. Who didn’t love holiday desserts? They were better than the main course in my opinion. I briefly thought about planning a meal of just desserts but my kids would have thought it was nuts.

  I knew that I was trying to stay busy in order to keep my mind off my first holidays as a divorcee. But at least I acknowledged it and I wasn’t in denial. I wanted things to be just right and was very nervous for some reason. Maybe because I didn’t want my kids to be disappointed, or myself, for that matter. I really wanted to have a nice holiday. I needed to start new traditions and not throw out my love of Christmas because of what had happened.

  It turned out I was the one disappointed when Jamie and Joanna called to say they were going to head to their ski weekend early to beat some storm coming in that could potentially delay their travel. I could hear in their voices that they felt bad, so I tried not to let my disappointment show through. I could remember what it was like to be a college student and to be independent and wanting to do my own thing, not hang out at home with Mom.

  Except now I was alone on Christmas. Nadine had asked me to come over but as depressing as it seemed to spend the holiday alone, being with someone else’s family somehow seemed even worse. It was too much of a reminder of the fact I was alone and I needed to get used to being independent and on my own.

  Though I was at a loss of what to do with myself, I was almost thinking at least going to Nadine’s would have kept me busy. I hadn’t been in the mood to cook the dinner I’d planned, but I had already made the pies before the kids had called so decided that one piece of each with some mulled wine would be a perfect Christmas dinner. The rest I put in the freezer for next time, whenever that would be. My plan was to eat and drink myself to an early sleep and avoid dealing with my emotions. Probably not the best course of action but I felt tonight was a special circumstance. Just hopefully not my new holiday tradition.

  It sounded like a good plan but easier said than done. I was all set in my living room with my pie, glass of wine and reinforcements in a carafe. I lit the fireplace and had Christmas music playing and was feeling pretty good about things until I spotted a family picture, one that included Brian, that I had somehow overlooked when I had gone through the house months ago erasing all evidence of his existence.

  That’s all it took to reduce me to a blubbery mess and feeling sorry for myself, causing me to drink even more which just made it a vicious cycle. Especially, since I wasn’t really much of a drinker. Usually, a glass or two was my limit.

  I thought I had made my peace with things and worked through my hurt and anger. But all the old thoughts from when Brian had first left came crashing back to the forefront of my brain, making me ask, why? What was wrong with me? What did I do to drive him away? Why had I not seen how bad things had become between Brian and I? Why did we grow apart? Why was I not enough for him, especially after all our history together? I knew objectively it wasn’t about me, it was about him. I could only worry about my feelings and blah, blah, blah. While I understood the point behind the control what you can control theory and that you can’t control others, his behavior still pissed me off and filled me full of insecurity, self-doubt, and frankly, fear. I hadn’t really ever been alone. I went from living with my parents to living at college with roommates to living with Brian. I had never been on my own before, solely independent. And while I considered myself a strong, independent woman, it was much less scary to be independent with a husband than without. A thought that embarrassed me to think and I would never say it out loud, but it was true.

  Brian and I might have not had 22 years of passionate bliss, but I had just assumed that no couple would after that point. I had thought our relatively easy co-existence was normal and yet, I was wrong. Part of me was jealous, too. Jealous Brian went out and found what he was missing and was happy and I had been content to just live with the status quo. Damn him. I drifted off to an uneasy sleep with thoughts of inadequacy floating in my head.

  I woke up on the couch, freezing as the fire had went out and I had only a light afghan pulled over me. I sat up and immediately wished I hadn’t. I was hit hard with a strong pounding in my head that was the after-effects of too much wine and crying. I needed water and a handful of Ibuprofen. I shuffled to the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it up at the fridge dispenser. Then leaned my head against the coldness of the stainless steel refrigerator. We had just remodeled the kitchen the summer before he moved out. At least I got to keep the house. I loved this house, I was very proud of it. And even though it held memories of him it also was full of memories with the kids and I didn’t want to give that up.

  I glanced over at the stove clock, expecting it to be one, maybe two am. Shit! Four-thirty.

  While that normally was a time I would be sleeping, to catch my six-thirty flight I should have been up already. I had to be at the airport at least an hour before departure and the airport was a good forty minutes away and that would be without traffic, which hopefully would be the case this early the day after Christmas. That left me an entire twenty minutes to get dressed and out of the house with all my luggage. Thank God I had already packed.

  Fifteen minutes later, suitcases in the back of my car, tote with laptop and stuff to do on the plane was in the seat next to me along with my purse, I backed out of my driveway and sped towards the airport.

  Luck was with me and forty-five minutes later I was through security and on the way to my gate. Fortunately, I had time to grab Starbucks on my way. A Venti Americana and bottle of water and I would be feeling as good as new.

  Chapter 3

  I awoke when
the captain announced our descent into Bimini.

  I had fallen asleep after changing planes in Miami from a big jet to a small regional plane. While many people I knew hated small planes, they didn’t bother me and usually the vibration put me right to sleep as it had in this case. If only the flight had been longer than thirty minutes. I could have used the sleep.

  Still yawning, I made my way through customs and to baggage claim. I felt so disgusting. Hours in a plane and now a sticky, barely air conditioned airport made me want a shower and to put on some fresh clothes.

  Now that I was here, the buyer’s remorse and the sadness faded away as the sun and heat washed over me. I couldn’t wait to get a good meal and take in the beautiful landscape I had seen pictures of from the resort website. Visions of relaxing in a tropical paradise with fruity umbrella drinks were coming to me and I was determined to enjoy myself.

  I was so lost in these delightful thoughts of sand and sun that I didn’t notice I was the only person still standing in front of the luggage carousel until it stopped and all of a sudden things got very quiet.

  I looked around and sighed when I realized it didn’t look as if my luggage had made the journey. Losing luggage wasn’t part of the plan. I found the airline’s office a ways down the corridor and with many apologies, they quickly confirmed my luggage was on its way to Dulles instead of here in Bimini with me.

  Repeating the mantra, “you can only worry about what you can control” in my head a few times, I thanked the lady at the customer service desk. After she had assured me they would bring my luggage to the resort the minute it arrived, I went to find a taxi.

  I checked into the hotel and stopped by the gift shop and bought an outrageously expensive pair of shorts and a T-shirt with a flip flop pattern. It was gaudy but better than putting dirty clothes back on after a shower. I had told myself during the taxi ride to the resort I wasn’t going to let something like a little lost luggage ruin my vacation. Happiness was a state of mind, right? Not about clean clothes.

  Something I had to remind myself of an hour later after putting on the outfit I bought.

  The sizes had run small, medium and large. Preferring baggy, since I hadn’t been able to lose twenty pounds in the couple weeks before vacation, I had purchased large. The company who made these clearly had quality control issues. The shirt, I was swimming in. It could have fit both me and Nadine at the same time. It was more like extra-large. It looked even more ridiculous because the shorts were just the opposite. They were so tight, it was a miracle I got them up and buttoned. They had to be more like a small. There was no way these were the same size.

  Deep breath, Sterling, though not too deep or you’ll bust your steams. This is nothing you can’t handle, I thought.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. The dismal outfit went well with my fuzzy hair and make-up-less face since all my toiletries were, of course, in my suitcase. To hell with it, I thought. This is just temporary and it’s not like I’m ever going to see these people again. Plus, I was starving and I wasn’t going to hide in my hotel room when it was so absolutely gorgeous out there.

  Trying to pretend that I looked like a million bucks rather than an unkempt ragamuffin, I headed to the elevator and went down to the main floor. Following the signs that said, “Patio dining”, I headed to the hallway just right of the lobby. I was so looking forward to … I stopped. The entrance was roped off and black plastic covered the opening. I read the sign posted to the hostess stand, “Patio closed for construction.” Seriously, this was not happening to me! After coming out in public looking like this, surely I deserved a good meal, didn’t I?

  “Looks like we have bad timing,” a voice behind me said.

  “No kidding,” I said and turned around to find an extremely attractive man.

  He was well over six feet with dark brown hair, some grey just starting to show through, blue eyes and a nice smile. Not too bad, I thought and then it hit me. I was standing in front of this attractive man looking like a train wreck. I could feel my face growing hot with embarrassment and started to wonder what else could go wrong on this trip.

  “I’m Steve,” he said, holding his hand out.

  “Sterling,” I squeaked and took his hand, which felt quite nice in mine. An unexpected feeling.

  “Since we can’t eat here should we head to the other dining room?”

  “That would probably be a good idea unless we want to starve,” I said.

  We stood there for a minute, just staring at each other. I wasn’t sure what either of us was waiting for.

  “Do you know where the other dining room is?” he asked.

  “Nope. I had my heart set on this one.”

  “Me too,” he said in a serious tone.

  A few seconds went by as we were silent again and then we both burst out laughing.

  “Maybe we should walk back to the lobby and ask,” I suggested.

  “Men don’t ask for directions, remember?” he said playfully. “We like to walk around pretending we know exactly where we are going.”

  I was almost thinking he was flirting with me, but I didn’t see how that was even possible with the way I looked right now. He must just be this friendly with everyone.

  “I guess it depends on how hungry you are,” I said.

  “True. I say let’s go ask for directions to the other restaurant.”

  We walked along in silence to the lobby. He asked the first hotel employee he saw where the other dining room was and we quickly made our way down to the other side of the resort.

  “At least the view is nice,” I said as we walked through an open walkway connecting the main part of the hotel to the other dining area. The hotel was set up in a sort of pod structure. The main hotel part was in the center and then there were several offshoots that were their own structure connected by these open air walkways.

  We made it to the other dining area and walked up to the hostess.

  “Two?” she said brightly.

  “Yes, I mean no. I mean, there’s two of us but we’re not together. So two ones.” Oh my God, I was such an idiot, babbling. I could feel my face turning red again. The poor hostess looked completely befuddled and Steve was laughing at me. But not in a way that made me feel like a fool.

  “Two separate tables please,” he said. “We don’t like each other very much and prefer not to eat together.”

  I looked at him and tried not to laugh.

  To her credit, the waitress wasn’t even fazed by his remarks and I looked over at him and he winked. I liked his sense of humor and was almost disappointed we wouldn’t be eating together. But there was no way I would ever suggest it.

  “Just a second and let me check,” the hostess said walking back into the dining room. Within moments, she was back with an expression on her face I couldn’t read.

  “I’m really sorry but right now we only have one table open. With the other main dining area closed we are busier than normal.”

  Steve and I looked at each other.

  “My mom raised me to share. I’m game if you are,” I said to him.

  “Fine with me. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  We followed the hostess to an empty table in the corner of the room.

  We looked at the menu and placed our order. Then a somewhat uncomfortable silence fell over us, at least it seemed uncomfortable to me. I was afraid the easy banter we had shared might be gone now that we were forced to engage in conversation.

  “So what brings you…”

  “Are you here for…”

  We both started speaking at the same time and subsequently started laughing. Awkward moment gone.

  “Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

  “I was asking what brought you to this beautiful resort.”

  “Honestly, I’ve never had a vacation by myself and thought it about time. I’m a bit of a workaholic,” he said.

  “Married?” I asked. I knew it might seem a very forward question since we had just met,
but after what Brian had done I was very sensitive about this topic. The last thing I wanted to do is have dinner with a married man under false pretenses.

  “Not anymore. Divorced. Six years ago. You?”

  “Divorced, officially a few weeks ago, but separated for a year.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Divorce sucks any way you look at it.”

  “Yeah it does,” I said taking a sip of my wine.

  “Is that what brings you here?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I needed to get away. Recharge so to speak. That and I didn’t want to make my kids feel guilty for not coming home. They’re in college and had a trip with friends planned but I know they feel bad that I’m alone. So, here I am, on this beautiful island just so they won’t worry. The lengths I go to for my children,” I said dramatically.

  Steve laughed. “Never had the pleasure but I can imagine.”

  “No kids?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t think me too nosy. Some people were touchy about this part of their life.

  “Nope. Just wasn’t in the cards.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I dealt with that a long time ago. What do you do for a living?” he asked, changing the subject. I told him and he shared with me he was an architect and loved animals, volunteering at the local shelter when he had time.

  We spent the next hour in enjoyable conversation. He was easy to talk to and I found myself relaxing. Our meal was delicious and I was proud of myself for passing on dessert, opting for black coffee, instead. Though it wasn’t so much fantastic will power as much as the fact I was afraid the button on these shorts would pop if I ate anything else. It had been hard to say no to key lime pie.

  After dinner, we walked back to the main lobby to go back to our rooms.

  “Thank you for letting me share your dining space,” Steve said.