Page 24 of The Moon Also Rises
“Oh, no idea,” I say, somehow sounding very interested even though that’s the last thing I am.
“In the microwave! Such a sneaky snake!” Lionel declares as he places his hand on Luigi’s chest, a stretch of pectoral muscles that could be described as sculpted, if I was feeling generous, which I really am not.
“And rather dangerous too!” Luigi adds with something I think I could fairly label as a guffaw.
“You’re a wild one!” I say and I know Rami picks up my sarcasm when he squeezes my hand again. I’d almost forgotten our fingers were still linked.
“I still double-check the microwave when I go to make my morning porridge,” Lionel says with more of his sing-song laughter.
“I can imagine,” I say, but there’s no sarcasm there now. Just fondness. And a sinking reminder that this man is too good, much too good for me.
“Anyway, all joking aside,” Rami says. “I want to take Jake up to our room to chill out for a bit before we get ready.”
“Of course, but before you go, do you have a few minutes, Jake?” Lionel asks with eagerness, shuffling forward slightly. “Luigi is about to go and get ready with his groomsmen, but I have a bit of time now.”
My body tenses from my hair follicles to my toenails. I’m trying to search for an alternative excuse when Rami’s voice fills my ears.
“Lionel, if it’s all the same to you, I think for the next few hours I’m going to be hiding our room key in the minibar, if you catch my drift,” Rami says with a wink that pulls on every one of his features. “Because I’m assuming there’s no microwave in our room.”
“You assume right, my friend, you assume right.” Luigi guffaws again as he slaps Rami on his arm in camaraderie. I swear stopping myself from rolling my eyes actually burns up a handful of calories.
“I suppose we’ll see you later at the ceremony,” Lionel says looking at me as if to confirm. He doesn’t look sad, exactly, just a little forlorn or disappointed. It’s a painful reminder of the way he looked at me when I told him I slept with a man whose name I can’t even remember now.
“Come on, Lover Boy.” Rami starts to walk off, leading me back to the path that will take us to the reception. Without looking back at Lionel and Luigi, I walk a little behind him, this time like an embarrassed puppy who just rolled around in their own shit.
We are out of the gardens and approaching a side entrance for the house when Rami’s warm palm pulls away from mine.
“I guess it’s safe now,” he explains.
I stare down at my hand for a moment. It feels bare and emptier than it should. “I suppose so.”
“Are you okay?” Rami stops and turns to me. “That was a bit… intense.”
“By intense do you mean incredibly awkward and terribly embarrassing for me?”
“Something along those lines.”
“Well, then it won’t surprise you at all to know that no, I’m not okay, and actually I’d suddenly rather drink a carafe of my own urine than go to this wedding.” I feel my shoulders sink, and not because of the weight of my bag which is full of far too many lotions and potions that are not going to turn back the hands of time in two hours, no matter their price tag.
“You definitely don’t want to drink your own piss, trust me,” Rami says with a wonky grin, but he leaves me no time to question his comment. “If it makes you feel better, I think they’re completely convinced that we’re an item.”
A surprise of a smile pulls at my lips. “You’re right. We did good. Or rather you did. Do you have a secret performing arts degree you haven’t told anyone about?”
“Why would I keep that a secret? I’d be proud of that!” Rami says as we start walking up the steps and into the building.
Half a giggle falls out of my mouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. “Oh, God, you just made me laugh. I really am rubbing off on you!”
*****
Following the directions the receptionist gave us for our room, I am about to try and lift my left hand and check my watch but the bag I’m carrying is too heavy, so I have to swing my arm to get some momentum behind it. In doing so I feel a momentary freedom from the weight that was in the bag. Except it’s not momentary. I look down and see I’m still holding the straps of my Longchamp weekend bag, but they are no longer connected to the royal blue canvas they were attached to a moment ago.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say to my bag that is slumped on the floor. “You cost more than two hundred quid!”
With his own bag on his back, Rami circles back and bends to scoop up the handle-less bag. Holding it against his chest, he straightens out and smiles at me in a way that could be trying to comfort me but could also be a little mocking.
“Nothing some superglue won’t fix,” he says.
“Well, guess what ‘Lover Boy’,” I say with spiteful emphasis as I start to follow him down the corridor again. “I didn’t pack superglue. My skincare routine is quite desperate these days, it’s true, but I’ve not yet resorted to those sorts of measures. Besides, I doubt superglue is going to fix the rest of the disaster that is the following twelve hours. Did you even see how fucking attractive and bloody charming and pissing friendly Luigi is?”
