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My favorite place is springing to new life. Can I do the same? Can I wake from this depressed slumber and begin anew? These days are filled with doubt and I wonder what the hell I'm even doing writing. Nobody gives a damn. It's all about the money anyway and why waste time with art when it doesn't pay shit. I sit in this corner, watching the tourists and waiting for inspiration. The muse has left the building.  EPISODE TWELVE THE BELLAGIO The music stops and for a few moments the only sensations I feel are his hands upon my arms and the bustle of tourists jostling each other to get a better view of the water show. I wonder how long this can last before the tension breaks, before one of us speaks. The next song begins and once again we are moving to the music. "Unforgettable...in every way..." Can this be happening? Are we slow dancing in mid-afternoon to Nat King Cole? It's like a dream and I don't want it to end. Pressing myself into his chest, I try to hide myself inside his suit, rubbing my cheek against the flower in his pocket. His hands stroke my hair and we sway with the beat long after the song stops. I feel a hand lift my chin and our eyes meet. "Why don't we go inside and have lunch?" he asks. Without waiting for my answer, he takes my hand and leads me around the water park towards the front entrance. I don't want to speak or do anything to ruin the moment. It's like something out of a movie. The only thing I'm missing is an umbrella to shield the afternoon sun from my eyes. The touch of his skin against mine sends chills down my legs and I huddle against him, not wanting him to escape my grasp. "I've never been far from you. I want you to know that." I can't answer and feel emotions grip at my throat. We approach the revolving doors and I wait for him to escort me inside. He enters first and drags me by the fingertips. As the doors spin and we are inside, he kisses the top of my hand and pulls me close once again. "Welcome to the Bellagio," he says. We remain standing near the entrance, embracing and staring into each other's eyes. I don't want this moment to end, but the crush of humanity entering the building forces us into the casino. Again I hook my arm into his and allow him to guide me. People stare at us and I can't wonder why, with him wearing a handsome gray suit and me in jeans and a sweatshirt. "A cocktail before lunch?" he asks, leading me towards the bar near the poker room. I answer with a nod, happy to stop walking, the wetness in my pants irritating my legs with each step. The barkeep approaches and Ray orders martinis, dirty. I smile and scan the rest of the patrons of the bar, taking it all in, not wanting to miss a detail of this moment. Nobody watches us except for the middle aged man standing near the slots. I wonder if this man knows Ray, but I don't have a chance to ask him before the barkeep slides drinks in front of us. Ray raises his glass and leans closer to me. "That man is with the FBI," he says, touching his glass to mine.  All of the sadness in the morning.  |
ELLA'S JOURNAL
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November 2018
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