βIβm sorry, maβam, thereβs no one registered here by that name.β The young man behind the desk looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and pity.
βYou must be mistakenβ I replied quietly.
βThereβs no mistake, maβam. Perhaps you have the wrong hotelβ the clerk suggested, trying to give me a way out.
Well, of course I didnβt have the wrong hotel! Frank and I had been meeting at the Pierre the second weekend of every month for three years. I checked my phone for any texts or missed calls; there were none. Rather than stay in the lobby looking distraught and abandoned, I walked into the lounge and ordered a martini. I sipped my drink and waited for Frank.
After thirty minutes and two martinis I began feeling paranoid. It was painfully obvious, at least to me, that everyone who saw me sitting by the bar thought I was either an elegant call girl just past her prime or a now lonesome and tedious woman who had been stood up.
I became aware of someone approaching. Expecting to see Frank, IΒ looked up, smiling; it was the concierge. Whispering discreetly, he handed me a note. It read: βDearest Christine. I have treasured our little trysts but now we mustΒ go our separate ways. Farewell. FrankβΒ
βOur little trysts!β I was shattered.
Just like that, as suddenly as it began it was over. Looking straight ahead, I gracefully walked out of the hotel. After buying a bag of roasted nuts from a vendor on the corner, I walked over to Central Park. I sat on a bench feeding the pigeons, thinking of everything and nothing.
NAR Β© 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 