Nowhere but Here

Page 10 Blank Pages

There were at least twenty random pieces of paper spread throughout my room. Several contained quick notes from my observations at the winery, some were Jamie’s itineraries that I couldn’t part with, and some were just blank pages or pages filled with doodling from my brainstorming sessions gone awry. I cleaned up quickly, tossing the papers on the desk and chair, and then I stripped down and jumped in the shower. Before I was able to thoroughly dry my hair or throw on a coat of lip gloss, the knocks came.

He was still wearing his work clothes, and I was only wearing a tiny white towel.

He stepped into the room without a word and then flicked the top of the towel, causing it to fall open and onto the floor. He took a deep breath as his eyes traveled up and down my body. “You need a shower,” he said.

“I just took a shower.”

He bent down and effortlessly threw me over his shoulder and then stalked into the bathroom. I protested while he turned the shower on and waited for the right temperature. He managed to kick his shoes off with me hanging over his shoulder and then he put his mouth on my hip and bit me. “Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry, baby.” He sucked on the same spot until I was writhing around like a maniac suspended in the air. I beat my fists against his back and butt, but he just laughed. Once the water was perfect, he dropped me in and then removed his clothes in five seconds flat. Before I could blink, he had me against the wall of the shower.

“Whoa, Jamie!”

“This is like cuddling, right?” he said with a devilish smirk.

“You are dangerously close to breaking my rule.”

“Okay, let me just wash you.”

“I’m clean.”

“I think you need a once-over.”

After thirty minutes of washing each other’s hair and bodies, we made it out of the shower, but Jamie insisted on drying me in the most painfully slow and gentle manner. We were torturing each other.

“I’m saving you for later,” he said as he helped me into one of the terry-cloth robes.

“What shall we do for dinner?”

“It’s on its way. I’m going to feed you naked.”

He was still wearing nothing. “You’re going to feed me while you’re naked?”

“No, I’m going to feed you while you’re naked.”

“I heard it the other way around,” I said accusatorily.

“Okay, how about I feed you while we’re both naked?”

“That’s a good compromise.” I rolled forward on my tippy-toes and kissed his cheek.

When our food came, I insisted that we eat dinner at the table with our robes on like civilized human beings, but I promised him we could eat dessert his way. He immediately called the restaurant and ordered one of each kind of dessert, a scoop of each flavor of ice cream, and a bowl of whipped cream.

“Aren’t you embarrassed? You work here,” I said after he hung up.

“Embarrassed about what?”

“You’ll have to see Chef Mark, and he’ll wonder what you’re doing with a giant bowl of whipped cream.”

“I’m going to eat it.” He smiled innocently. “What’d you think I was going to do with it, Kate? God, you have such a dirty mind.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Truthfully, who cares? Chef Mark has seven kids. I’m sure he knows his way around this kind of thing.” He smiled and then slipped his hand inside my robe and up my thigh. “Especially when you add food to the mix.” He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “Ugh, I don’t want to think about Chef Mark anymore. I just want to think about you and me and dessert.”

As promised, Jamie ate the entire bowl of Chef Mark’s special sugar-free homemade whipped cream off of my body while I squirmed around underneath him. He made it more silly than sexy, so when we were both thoroughly sticky and full from dinner, he ran a bath and poured us each a glass of wine. We sunk into the bubbles in silence. I rested my head back, closed my eyes, and thought about what would become of Jamie and me. Thoughts of Chicago invaded my mind. I sat up abruptly and opened my eyes.

Jamie watched me with concern. “What is it, Katy?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head in exasperation.

“Tell me.” His eyes were pleading as he pulled me onto his lap.

“What are we doing, Jamie?”

“We’re taking a bath.” He dropped his head and circled my nipple with his tongue. I didn’t stop him as he slowly kissed his way up my neck.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk.”

“How long should I stay here?”

“As long as you want.”

Wrong answer.

“Jamie,” I said in the most serious tone I could muster.

He pulled away and then cupped my face. “When do you have to be back?” I just shrugged. “Well, when do you have to turn in the article?”

“I should go back sometime next week, maybe Tuesday, to turn in the article, and then I don’t know what.”

“Well, today is Friday, so we have some time.” By that point Jamie was kissing me all over. Between nuzzling my neck and biting my ear, he said, “Doesn’t it feel good to just be . . . together?”

“Yes,” I said. And then I scooted forward and guided him inside of me.

After sloshing water all over the bathroom floor, Jamie picked me up sopping wet and carried me to the bed, pausing only to say, “This is one of the nicer rooms here. You have a view.” It was a gorgeous view, especially at that time of day when the sun had gone down but the sky still glowed with the memory of light. It was magic hour as we looked out at the expansive vineyard, with its endless rows of vines. It was like watching a Terrence Malick film: quiet, poetic, reflective, and the imagery overflowing with beauty.

Our bodies dried quickly. We fell back into lazy mode, like we had that morning. He kissed my back and shoulders and I flipped through a brochure of the winery while he explained the fermentation process to me. I learned everything I ever wanted to know about the difference between naturally occurring yeast and cultured yeast.

“God, Jamie, you could teach a class on this stuff. What was your major in college?”

“Seducing young journalists,” he said just before he disappeared under the covers.

• • •

I only remember hearing my room phone ring once. I was in a deep, comfortable sleep, nestled between Jamie’s arm and his chest. When he picked it up, he was abrupt. “Yes? Okay. Okay.” He hung up and I dozed off. I don’t know how much later it was, but I stirred in the middle of the night and felt the empty space beside me. I sat up. Jamie was still naked but sitting at the end of the bed with his feet on the floor. His elbows were propped on his knees, his hands holding his sunken head.

“Jamie?” I said as I shuffled out of the comforter and moved to the end of the bed next to him. He wiped his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

I kissed his back once. He turned immediately, stood, and lifted me from under my arms, tossing me up higher on the bed. I couldn’t see the expression on his face as he crawled up between my legs, but I could feel his intensity.

“Jamie . . .”

“Shh.” He kissed me hard and fast on the mouth, then moved down my body, rubbing his face against my bare skin between kisses. It was like he was consuming me and he couldn’t get enough. I tangled my hands in his hair as he moved down my body, kissing and sucking. He sat up quickly and then leaned back on his heels. A small amount of light from the moon was peeking through the side of the curtain and lighting Jamie’s face just enough so that I could see his expression. His eyebrows were downcast and his mouth was very slightly open. The movement of his chest pumping in and out looked dramatic as he took long, deep breaths. He stared down at me.

“What is it?” I whispered.

Without hesitation or words he took me forcefully over the edge. Reaching behind my bottom, he yanked my open legs toward his body and sat up on his knees, entering me at the same time. He stayed above me, looking into my eyes as he thrusted into me. Our breaths became louder and louder. I felt a yearning to have his whole body against mine. I tried to pull him down but he resisted. Instead, he brought my foot up to his mouth and kissed it gently, before extending my leg to rest on his shoulder. I was completely open to him and exposed as he took me over and over. Somehow, I felt totally unself-conscious. He held my leg against his chest and anchored his other hand on my hip, reaching his thumb down between us and drawing deep and deliberate circles until I was writhing against him uncontrollably. Arching my back, bringing our bodies a millimeter closer, I gripped the sheets and came hard, without shame.

I felt him tense as my body pulsed around his. He let out an exhausted breath and then collapsed onto me, burying his face in my neck. We were still for several moments while I held his big body, damp with sweat, against mine. He sank down lower, then rolled off of me and onto his side so he could take my nipple into his mouth. He kissed and sucked sleepily until I dozed off. With his head on my chest and my hands tangled in his soft hair, I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

• • •

I felt alone before I knew I was. I rolled out of bed and opened the drapes. It was dawn and the light was almost as beautiful as it had been at dusk the evening before. I knew Jamie was gone, but before I turned around for visual confirmation, I stood at the door looking out onto the vineyard. My mind wandered back to the night before. Jamie seemed vulnerable and withdrawn sitting at the edge of the bed, and then suddenly undeterred, hungry for comfort, and a release. I looked around the room at the evidence of our night and wondered how, in such a short time, I could feel so connected to him. Clothes littered the floor, plates from our dessert covered the table, and notes that I had taken and informational pamphlets about the winery were strewn about. I figured Jamie must have gotten up early and gone to work in the vineyard. I took a long, hot bath and waited to hear from him.

At noon, I was starving and bored, so I decided to take my car into town. Driving was still a terrifying experience but it helped to roll down the window and focus on breathing in the clean, warm air. It was a perfect day to walk around the little town. I found my way into a used bookstore, where I discovered a copy of some of da Vinci’s published journals. I bought it for Jamie and then browsed the other stores on the street. It seemed like everywhere I looked, I was reminded of him. Seeing a couple holding hands, or eating in a sidewalk café, I thought of Jamie. On my way back, I visited three other comparable wineries and found that they all lacked the magic I found at R. J. Lawson. Perhaps Jamie was responsible for that as well.

When I got back to the winery, I noticed that his truck wasn’t parked in its usual place.

I headed to my room and found that housekeeping had already cleaned it. There was no record of Jamie and me in bed. It was made with the perfect hotel folds.

A feeling started building in my chest. I looked out the window and searched for Jamie among the many rows of vines. It started to occur to me that he hadn’t called or left a message. His truck was gone and it was getting late. I picked up the phone and called the front desk.

A man’s voice came through the receiver. “Hello, Ms. Corbin. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could connect me to Jamie, uh . . . Jamie, the guy who works here.”

Oh my god, I don’t know his last name. I’m so stupid!

“One moment.” I exhaled, relieved that the phone was ringing.

“This is Susan, how can I help you?”

“Susan, hi, it’s Kate.”

“Hello, Kate.” She sounded weirdly apprehensive.

“I’m looking for Jamie.”

“Oh . . . well, Jamie had to leave.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure I can . . .” her quiet voice trailed off.

“Can you give me his phone number?”

“Kate, let me get back to you.”

“Get back to me?” I wanted to say, Give me his goddamned number, I just spent the last two nights naked in bed with him. “Never mind.” I hung up and slumped onto the bed and waited for him to call.

What began as a tired sadness eventually morphed into anger. All of my feelings of insecurity came rushing toward me at once. The memories of our last conversation in the tub, Jamie acting dodgy, the girl in the restaurant—all of those thoughts hit me at full speed. I began breathing loudly, anxiety coursing through my veins, my heart beating out of my chest. He wasn’t coming back, I convinced myself. Who would want me? I was a shell of a person, plain and simple, not worth coming home to. Within a matter of a few days, both Stephen and Jamie had proven that to me.

I wouldn’t need to learn how to be alone. I knew how to do that, but I was mad at myself for believing that Jamie and I had something. He was too good to be true, all good things . . . blah, blah, blah. When I saw him on the edge of the bed the night before, I should have known he was contemplating something that weighed heavily on him. It’s not easy to crush someone’s heart, no matter how spineless you might be. I wondered if he had snuck out just moments after I had given myself to him in such a raw and emotional way. He had rested his head on my chest as I fell asleep. I had thought he was mine. Then he had left, and now I was alone again.

In roughly four days, I had gone from believing that I should live a solitary life to having faith in love. With every inch closer to Jamie, I had approached a greater sense of peace. I couldn’t explain how he had taken the pain of being alone away, but he had. Yet he had made no promises to me. I had believed that we had something bigger than words, that there was no need for conversation. I had believed, like a fool, that it wasn’t possible to walk away from what we had. I guess the pull I had felt was stronger than what we’d actually had, which was quickly turning out to be nothing. Isn’t that how it always is? The two parts inevitably make up one hundred percent, but that doesn’t mean that the parts are equal. Someone is always giving more to make up for the deficit from the other. That’s what blinded me—my own silly, romantic fantasy about a guy whose last name I didn’t even know. I had given myself entirely to Jamie, and he had left without even asking for my phone number. I stood in the middle of the room, stunned.

I threw on jeans and a sweatshirt and scurried down the stairs to the inn lobby, where George was now manning the desk. “Hi, George. Have you seen Jamie?”

“No, dear.”

“So you didn’t see him sneak out of my room in the middle of the night?”

With a look of pity on his face, he slowly sucked air in through his teeth. “I just got in a half hour ago, so no, I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

I marched over to Susan’s office. As usual, she was tucked behind her computer and already peering at me over her glasses.

“Where’s Jamie?” Without knocking, I opened the door to R.J.’s empty office and peeked in while I waited for her response.

“I’m not sure I’m the person to answer that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s not my place to discuss his personal matters with you.”

Heat, anger, and embarrassment flooded all of my senses. I could barely hear her because the sound of my own rapid heartbeat was pounding in my ears. “Do you have any idea what a colossal waste of time this entire thing has been for me? I came here to get a story on R.J., who is never fucking here.” I started to raise my voice, but she didn’t cower. “I got five rude minutes from him and one abrupt e-mail. Did you guys plan this? Did you use Jamie to distract me? Lighten the blow of not getting what was promised to me? Your ‘resident jack-of-all-trades’—well, that’s no lie, is it? He’s here to fuck lonely women and then fuck them over? Poor diabetic Jamie who lives in a barn and picks fucking grapes all day can fuck you against a wall like no one else.” She didn’t even raise her pencil-lined eyebrows at me, so I continued my rant. “What is this place? Is this some kind of joke? How could Jamie do this to me? I thought he was one of the good ones.” Tears I had forced back finally sprung into my eyes.

In a low voice, she simply said, “It’s not what you think. I’m sorry, Kate.” In my mind, that was enough of an admission for both of them.

“Me, too. This thing with Jamie just made it all worse.”

“That wasn’t the intention. I didn’t ‘sic’ Jamie on you.” She made air quotes around the word “sic.”

“Well, maybe not, Susan, but I still need to write an article about this godforsaken place. I’m leaving for Chicago tonight.” I’m not going to lie down and take it. I’ve done enough of that.

She didn’t try to stop me as I left the building. I spotted Chelsea lying on her bed outside.

“Bitch,” I said under my breath and then kept walking, determined to continue my streak of vengeance.

I left a note for Chef Mark that said:

Thanks for the whipped cream. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time you fulfilled a special request like that from Jamie.

Poor Guillermo was my next victim.

“I don’t know anything, mija. I just work here.”

“Does Jamie have a lot of women in and out of his barn?”

“No.” He shook his head convincingly. “Maybe your curiosity is getting the best of you,” he said.

“I’m not the one with the problem.”

I turned to walk away and stumbled past the row of vines where Jamie had kissed me so passionately. I paused and pressed my fingertips to my lips. Through tears, I wondered how I could have been so stupid. I promised myself that after I wrote the article, I would never think about that place again. I wouldn’t think about how he took the pain away for a little while, like a needle in the dark.

It all came back as the sun blasted me that morning in the vineyard. The dream was wrong. I wanted to believe that Rose prayed for me to find someone to share my life with. I wanted to believe that there was a cosmic force drawing Jamie and me together, but that’s not how things work. I shivered, even with the morning sun blaring down on me, because I realized there was no room for pain in love. Love is not the same thing as a marriage or a relationship or having children. Love is not work. Love is a feeling, pure and simple. It’s a feeling you can have one moment, in which you believe you could throw yourself in front of a speeding train for someone; and it can vanish the next, when they tear your heart out and steal every last beat for themselves. If I had any love for Jamie inside of me, I ripped it out of my heart that morning as I stood there among the sea of vines. Every last bit of hope I had for a relationship evaporated into the atmosphere like a memory forgotten.

I walked toward the inn thinking, I’m all I’ve got. I never should’ve let go of that mantra.

No one would ever know what Jamie and I had shared. The moments of closeness, the things he whispered to me, the way he said I was beautiful with so much conviction. Who could prove or deny it? Back in my room, I stared at the bed, thinking it had only been hours since we had lain there wrapped and tangled in each other, the way lovers do. I felt like we had grown together like a couple of trees planted too closely together, our branches mingling so that we didn’t know whose limbs belonged to whom. But it didn’t matter now because Jamie had uprooted himself. I had thought there was a chance we could stay that way forever. How naive of me. How sad. How pathetic.

The maid had tossed all of my belongings into a neat pile on the dresser and desk. It made packing up simple. I dialed Jerry.

“Jerry Evans.”

“Can you get me a flight tonight?”

“What? You and the winery guy want to elope to Cancun or something?”

“No.” Don’t cry, don’t do it, Kate!

I started crying.

“Oh shit,” he said, quietly. “Go to the airport. I’ll text you the details in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” I said through sobs, and then I hung up.

I stuffed all of my belongings into my tiny suitcase, including the numerous pages of notes and doodling. I drove all the way to San Francisco International Airport with a newfound confidence. I honked at shitty drivers; I even gave the finger a few times. It was only after I began screaming at an elderly woman in a green Chevy Nova that I decided I had a legitimate case of road rage and should probably cool it before I got myself shot.

At the airport desk, I upgraded to a first-class ticket, thinking it would be easier to drown my sorrows with the free, unlimited booze. I tucked myself into my giant seat. The flight attendant brought me a blanket and pillow. I asked for an extra blanket and then I proceeded to wrap myself into a fleece cocoon. I managed to pin my arms against my body inside of the blankets, which was wonderful. If only it didn’t slightly resemble a straitjacket. When we got off the ground, I undid the seat-back table with my teeth and ordered a double scotch on the rocks. I don’t even drink scotch. When my drink came, I leaned over and sucked the entire thing through the straw in three large gulps. It was then that I noticed there was a passenger seated next to me.

She was staring at me with round, giant blue eyes. “How old are you?” I asked.

“Twelve,” she said.

“What’s your name?” I cocked my head to the side as if I were interrogating her, unconcerned that I must have looked ridiculous.

“Aurora. Are you a crazy person or something?”

“Takes one to know one, kid.” Her eyes widened even more. “I’m just kidding. No, I’m not crazy . . . yet. Anyway, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, so that’s a silly question.” She nodded in agreement, a thoughtful expression on her face. I could tell right away she was one of those kids who are wiser than their years. “The truth is that I just got my heart trampled over. I had a rough day. You know how that is?” I arched my eyebrows for emphasis.

“Yeah,” she said and let out a deep breath. “I know exactly what you mean. This boy in my class, Genesis, told me he liked me and then told everyone else that I wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Genesis? That’s his name? Um, red flag right there. What kind of name is Genesis?” She just shrugged. “Well, I’ll tell you. That is an English New Age rock group from the seventies and eighties. His parents are either really old or they’ve been dropping acid for way too long. My guess is the latter, hence Genesis’s bizarre behavior. Don’t sweat it. Someone else will come along. Unless, of course, you realize now that being alone is better than having your heart broken over and over again. Realize that now, kid, and save yourself the trouble.”

“So being alone is better?” She was looking me right in the eye. Could I really lie to her?

“Are your parents married?”

“Yes, they’ve been married for twenty-two years,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I guess it’s a case-by-case basis. Don’t listen to me. It happens for some people. Maybe you’ll be that person.”

“Maybe you will, too. You just can’t let all that bullshit make you hard.” That, from a twelve-year-old.

“You’re probably right. Hey, do you want to help me? I have to write this article . . .”