In Wonderland: A Combination Of Fact & Fiction

I am happily weighed down by bisque, lobster, and bread rolls dripping with butter when a group of men walks in, a few armed with dates. Everything has wandered from the ocean to my table. The server, Eva, sets a glass of Sauvignon Blanc before me. “Just to try,” she adds, with a wink. Ever the ear hustler, I listen to the group while I sip, enjoying the taste of peach, letting it sit on my tongue before I swallow.

The three women sit together and begin to catch up while the five men sit in a semicircle around the rest of the table and trade laughs as they wait to order drinks. A table of linen dresses, black heels, and pressed suits with ties in their thirties. The women look younger and bored. One of the men relaxes into his chair and quickly establishes himself as the standout.

He is the quietest of the bunch, but the group listens when he speaks. He says as little as possible, ensuring that whatever he says must be fascinating. The table leans toward him when he speaks. He has an aristocratic nose that tips toward the ground. He is neatly groomed and trimmed, with ruddy hair and a matching beard. Less of a pirate; more of an accountant. I name him Dave The Broker. I amuse myself with his story as I ponder the blueberry pie. Eva convinces me to cave and order it. She nods at the other table when one of them calls her over. Dave speaks. She smiles. As she walks away, Dave looks at me. Caught spying. I blush but return his glance. Still, he wins the staring contest. I retreat before he does, but not without seeing the look he gives me as he considers me with his gray eyes. Dave’s neighbor notices our exchange and leans into his ear to say something, causing Dave to frown and shake his head. Dave taps a finger against his menu and scrolls through his phone before handing it to his friend, who chuckles. I watch as the phone is passed around the table, skipping over the three women. The men exchange looks and quick hard laughs. Dave slides it into his coat pocket as Eva approaches with drinks for the table. Dave’s neighbor places his hand on her arm in a proprietary manner. She smiles tightly and takes two steps back, moving away before he can reach out again. Dave frowns at his friend, whose name is now Asshole. No need to give him a better one. I turn to watch the sky, which has turned a dusky blue. Bats hover above the roofs of buildings across the street until a hawk swoops down and chases them away.

Eva returns to my table with a slice of pie and a glass of brandy. “The brandy is from the gentleman at that table,” she says, setting the glass down.

“Not the handsy one, I hope.”

“No, that’s Greg. He’s the one you don’t want to walk home with,” Eva grimaces.

“The shark of the group?” Eva nods. Her face tells me a story. I nod back at her and do not push her to say more. She does not volunteer any details.

There’s a shark in every group of men.

“The drink’s from Devin,” Eva tells me and points to Dave, who looks like he’s listening to one of the women at his table, but I can tell he is aware of our conversation.

“Not a shark?”

“No, Devin’s more of a hawk,” she grins, “but you’re safe to walk home with him.” She walks away before I can ask what she means. Though her grin is reassuring, I can’t call myself naive. I glance at the brandy, wondering how he might have known that I drink it. I consider the amber liquid before I raise my glass in his direction. He watches me take a sip, and nods at me, then turns his attention back to his group. My thighs close firmly together. I turn back to the pie and the view outside as I build a wall around myself, my spine straightening. Nevertheless, I enjoy how the drink tastes as it sits on my tongue, liking the way that it burns when I swallow, and I know that my eyes are wide and dark.

The sun is close to setting as I near the bottom of my glass. I make my way toward the occupied single-stall restroom, passing Eva and another server standing at a table, folding napkin settings for service. I smile at them, then try to look interested in the poster of a band while I wait.

“I can manage it.” Eva grabs napkins and folds them next to her colleague.

“You sure?” He stares pointedly at Greg. “He was already lit when he walked in. We all know he gets meaner as it gets darker.”

Eva tries to look bored. “I’ve got it. That group tips well. Besides, Devin’s watching Greg.”

“Fine, but let me serve with you. Tips are yours.”

“Jeff, I said I’ve got it.” Eva flips silverware neatly into her napkin and rolls it, moving from one set to the next.

“I don’t like it,” Jeff says, speaking in a clipped voice. “He got too creepy with you last time.”

“Oh, so you don’t like it? How privileged of you to say that,” Eva’s voice hardens.

“Sorry,” Jeff tucks his chin into his neck and stares at the spoon in his hand. “I just wish I had been there to stop him.” The last few words make Eva and I straighten. Dolls standing at attention, in a display case at a toy store.

The wall before me is lined with a mirror framed by gold leaves. The glass is covered by a smattering of black age spots. Eva’s eyes float behind mine through the spots. I’ve entered the conversation as an unwanted guest, but I understand the tension more than Jeff.

“Don’t talk to him,” Eva tells him. “He’ll just be a dick to you, and I don’t need that.”

Jeff frowns at his work. “I wish they would ban him already. Devin’s fine, but the money isn’t worth the price of that shithead.”

I try to look away fast enough, but Eva catches my eyes. “Stop,” she warns Jeff and points quickly to my back.

I want to tell her that I understand, but I know that is unwanted in this moment. Finally, a girl and her mother exit the restroom, and I escape to give Eva and I both some privacy. I stare at my reflection and wash my hands at the sink. A different face now, in a new mirror. My jaw stiffens, and I shake my head in a rush to bury an old memory that bubbles up and oozes into my mind like a tar pit. My fingernails bite into the palms of my hands as I flex and release. Freezing the memory, then letting the feelings go with each sharp nip of my nails. I pull a lipstick from my purse and focus on the sounds around me. The din from outside the restroom brings me back. The swoosh of water moving through the pipes keeps me here. Rosemary Clooney’s voice comforts me from the speakers above my head. I smooth the tube across my lips and press them together, examining the plum shade on my mouth and sliding my tongue across my teeth. I watch the pulse at the nape of my neck until it slows its pace. “There,” I say. The efficiency of a compartmentalized nightmare. It tucks itself back into a bed far away and from long ago. I watch as my face unfurls like a flower. “Ready for battle,” I mutter and open the door, ready to head back to the inn. Eva is still standing there, waiting for me. She looks tired.

“I’m sorry that you had to hear that,” she says with a sad smile.

“It is not your fault,” I tell her, both of us aware of what I am saying. She nods.

“Would you like another drink?”

I shake my head. “No, I should head back to the inn before it’s too late.”

“Probably for the best. I thought you would say that. Here’s your check,” she says. I glance at it and hand her my card, deciding to stand at the bar while I wait, away from the other table. Devin watches me. I feel studied by a stranger, as though I am on a stage, staring out at an audience that sits in the dark. I busy myself with the items in my purse until Eva returns with the receipts. Tipping and signing both copies, and pocketing one of them, I move quickly to leave. Eva thanks me, telling me to get home safely. I echo the words back to her. She nods at Jeff, and I understand that he is her bodyguard now.

Devin’s gray eyes blink slowly at me, then he moves Greg’s glass off to the side of the table, to be cleared away, half-full of liquor. He seems to understand why I’ve made my exit. I hear him say something to his group. I walk faster as I leave the restaurant, my shoes clapping against the stone at a clipped pace, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, but losing that battle and turning my head around to look for shadows following me. For a moment, I think that I see one, but it’s gone when I look again. It’s only a short walk, but as I climb the slight slope up and then down again to the inn, I am relieved to arrive at the its entrance. The clerk at the front desk greets me. I smile at him with a bit too wide of a grin. I shake the edge from my shoulders and buy a bottle of white wine from Josie, who has moved from the front desk to the inside bar. She hands it to me with a glass and loans me a corkscrew.

“Did you enjoy your night?”

“Yes, until I met Greg and Devin,” I laugh, then frown at my awkward humor.

Josie’s eyes narrow, “Greg bothered you?”

“No, but I’ve heard enough about him to call it a night.”

“Yeah, stay away from him,” Josie’s voice is short. “He’s a creep. Luckily for him, he’s buddies with a lot of the right parents’ kids. I went to school with his younger sister. He came after all of us.” Her eyes darken. “Some girls weren’t as lucky as others.”

“Asshole shark,” I spit out the words quickly.

“Exactly,” she nods.

“Does he come in here?” I allow myself to look back at the lobby.

“Sometimes. But the clientele at our inn is usually too old for his tastes. Devin tries to keep him from lingering. He’s probably already ushered Greg home.”

“My server said Devin’s a hawk, but one you can walk home with,” I say, biting the inside of my mouth.

“Eva?” Josie glances at her watch.

“Yes.”

“You can trust her. Devin’s fine, but none of those guys are worth it. You just go settle into your room and enjoy that wine.” Josie pockets a few dollars that are sitting on the bar. “Here,” she adds, giving me a slice of cheesecake from a fridge. “It’s on us.”

“I’d ask you why Devin keeps Greg in his circle of friends, but that would be naive of me.”

“Yup,” Josie rolls her eyes. “There’s a Greg in every group of guys, and they usually know it.”

“A Greg or three,” I frown at a group at the other end of the bar.

“Devin’s family owns this inn,” Josie tells me. “And half of the restaurants and bars in this town, including the one where you met Eva. Jeff’s parents are investors.”

“Ah. Got it. Cowards then, the lot of them.”

“Yes. Devin tries to shepherd Greg for the town, guarding it from him. It’s better than nothing but still not good enough.” Josie shakes her head. We speak in sharp voices together until there is no point in continuing. Just two women circling around an old story until we’ve chewed it to pieces. I tip her and return to my room for the night, double-locking my door and checking the deadbolt twice.

I wrap myself up in a blanket and settle in with my book, the wine, and the cheesecake, indulging for the night, salvaging it in ways I can control. As I rock in the yellow chair, my feet swing, hovering just above the deck’s floorboards. The deck’s lights shine down onto my lap. I watch the waves roll onto the shore and read the words to calm me. Later, when I am a bit warmed by the wine, I laugh at myself for thinking Anne could erase my memory. I hear footsteps pause on rocks. Then, a voice calls up to me from below.

“Sorry about Greg,” the voice says, and I stop rocking in my chair.

I keep myself still, resting my hands on the book, my thumb resting on a page, marking its place.

“I don’t mean to disturb you, but I was walking and heard your laugh.”

I sucked in my breath and then, emboldened, decided to reply.

“That’s not enough,” I tell him, knowing it’s Devin.

“What’s not enough?” His voice is soft and low, and there’s a warmth to it that I do not trust.

I lean forward in my chair until I can see Devin, who is already smiling and looking up at me. He looks more like a pirate now, in the moonlight, by the waves.

“Your “sorry about Greg” line. You can do better than that. From what I’ve heard about your friend Greg, you all can.”

Devin frowns and turns to look at the moon.

“You’re right,” he says. We could all do better. But I wouldn’t consider him my friend.”

“What then?”

“Burden.”

“You’ve interrupted my book and my glass of wine,” I add, unsatisfied by his words. I stand up to walk inside. His back straightens. I watch him fold his smile carefully back into his face. Less friendly when corrected.

“My apologies. Please, stay and read. I don’t wish to wreck a good book. Not when the moon looks the way it does tonight. I’ll leave you be.”

“Good,” I tell him. I busy myself with the book but watch him closely, ensuring he leaves. No, I tell myself. That one is not worth the risk. I make myself sit and read the rest of the chapter, fighting the urge to retreat inside, but I do not enjoy the last few pages as much as I have in the past.

Later, as I try to fall asleep, I push back at memories that resurface from years ago, when I was in college. They have not made an appearance for a long time. I packed them so masterfully into a box and set them on a high shelf, letting the spiders in my head weave webs around them until it was hidden. But they appear occasionally, escaping until I can tuck them away in a new corner, the spiders following quietly.

My mind takes me back to my bed after a party, in my apartment, where I am meant to be safe. Happy and tasting of gin and tonic, my roommate and I bid ourselves goodnight and exit to our separate rooms with our guests. A one-night stand with a newly befriended man slides from pleasure to confusion and a loss of control. Was it a minute or longer? No, longer still. Lips on the skin change directions. Sex that is wanted becomes sex that is not. Parts are moved and are not where they should be. Not where they are wanted. A wave of discomfort, no this is unwanted and the newness of it is followed quickly by pain. My hands push out behind me, and he laughs before stopping, but first continuing and controlling, then flipping me back to face him again. A spider in the corner of the room, wove a web above my bed. I watched it. The appearance of regaining control was accompanied by an eery calm. Confusion and the pain that lingers inside of me. His eyes are clear and I understand that he knows what he’s done to me, as he slides back into me.

“This the right hole now” he grins, and my body freezes.

A spider in the corner of the room wove a web above my bed. I watched it instead of looking at his face. He moved toward the finish. I lay still, to keep myself safe, I later realized. I rushed him to the end, and he left while I went to the bathroom, sitting gingerly on the toilet, the door locked. The haze of the night and the newness of self-doubt, of what was not first asked or discussed, remained on my face like a stain, no matter how many times I splashed water on my face. What was given and what was taken. I pushed it away from me. Just a simple case of miscommunication. No.

No. Years later, an exacting certainty of what was stolen and the understanding that flooded me, paling my face. Of the knowledge he had of the question, he should have first asked me, and that he knew what he was about. No permission was asked for. No consent was given. All this wisdom was attained on my own, but it was undesirable to my heart. I remember the pain and humiliation that came with the fear of self-preservation. The buried blame I knew was not mine but held in my heart. And how much damage that would cause.

Now in the inn, I change positions in my bed and rotate between turning lights on and then off until my mind wears itself out, and I finally sleep, the soft impression of a hand gently rubbing my back, as I drift off. I wake up much later than planned, with no memory of my dreams, and learn, when I call the front desk, that Devin has already told the staff not to disturb me and to let me check out late. The wine bottle is warm and half-full, on the desk by the television. I leave it there, and free a spider that I find near the screen door, setting it outside.

A card and basket of lotions, soaps, fruits, and chocolates are waiting for me at the front desk. The clerk hands it to me and grins. A young boy who knows nothing, I think to myself, but not with any malice toward him. I read the card, set it aside, and asked him to relay a message to Devin. It is not a polite one. The clerk blushes. I do not care. My body does not relax until my car reaches the duty-free crossing into Canada.