Chapter 5 #2
“This is an adventure for me.”
He pauses a while, like he’s not sure what I mean. “An adventure?”
“Coming here.”
The way he looks, like he truly belongs here, in a tux that looks expensive.
I do cheap, and vintage, and I love going to thrift shops, so I know when something is not from any of those places.
I might not have Kiki’s eye for discernment, but I know what he’s wearing is designer, and probably costs the earth. Just like the mask he’s wearing.
“I’ve never travelled before.”
His brow creases. I bet he’s travelled. I bet he’s travelled all over the world.
“Though … we travel to all sorts of destinations in the classroom.
“Classroom?”
“I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
He looks at me and blinks a few times, as if I’ve told him that I’m a candlestick. I'm curious to know what conclusion he's arrived at.
“Is something wrong?” I instinctively swipe a finger over my lips. “Do I have something on my mouth?”
“It's not that.” He shakes his head. “You're a kindergarten teacher,” he remarks. “I was expecting a neurosurgeon or an astronaut.”
I'm not sure how to take this. I'm not sure if he's being condescending or not, or making a joke, so I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I could have been either of those things.” It niggles me, the idea that he might be looking down on me. I don’t like it. “I hope you're not being condescending at my expense.”
“No.” He looks shocked. “Not at all. I was trying to make a joke.”
“A joke? I could have been a neurosurgeon and I could have been an astronaut. And then what would you say?”
He opens his mouth, and I wait, but he closes it again.
“If I'd put my mind to it, I could have been anything,” I say with conviction. “That's what I tell my children—”
“Children?”
“I don't actually have children. I mean the kids in my class. I tell them that they can do anything they put their mind to.”
He cocks his head again. “You must be a great inspiration to them.”
“I like to think so.”
“And have they?”
I peer at him. “Have they what?”
“Have they gone on to do great things?”
“They're six.”
“I see.”
It's a good thing I like talking to people and I have no qualms about going up to strangers. Otherwise, this poor man would have had a very lonely evening.
“What do you do?” I ask.
He doesn't answer immediately. I wonder if he's an undertaker or a gynecologist.
“I'm …” He pauses, looking a little uneasy.
“You’re …?” A flood of options sweeps through my mind. A serial killer? A spy?
“Finance, strategy. Some real estate and development.” He sounds as if he’d rather not divulge.
“As opposed to fake.”
“Excuse me?”
“Fake estate … it was a joke.” My jokes aren’t complicated, and they always land, but not with this man.
He nods. And blinks. I could talk for hours about what I do, because I love it. He looks like he’d rather die. He looks to the side at a waitress who is weaving through groups of people.
“Would you like some more canapés?”
I catch sight of her tray, and see ones I haven’t yet tried. I start to seriously consider the idea.
I look at him. “Would you think I'm a greedy person if I did?”
His brow furrows again.
“I would not.”
“I'm just very hungry.”
“No need to justify anything to me.”
When the waitress comes over I swipe another few canapés.
“You didn't eat earlier?” he asks. It’s nice of him to ask that.
“I had a cup of coffee this morning.”
“Just that, all day?”
“I had coffee this morning, and some cicchetti for lunch.”
“And you're still hungry?”
“Yes.”
I’m not used to people asking about my day.
Kiki is so into her beauty side hustle that when we meet she always talks about that.
Ms. Alvarez and I talked about movies. Mrs. Chen and I talked about school, mostly.
Miss T wants to know how I’m doing. But no one asks about the day-to-day. Except for my new friend.
“I built up an appetite walking here in these.” I hold up my dress and show him my espadrilles.
He winces.
“It wasn’t too bad,” I explain. “The place I’m staying is just around the corner. It’s in the Cannaregio district.”
“That’s not around the corner.”
I munch away on my food, and he pauses while I chew slowly, enjoying every mouthful.
“Venice has been on my bucket list for years. I never expected to cross it off.”
“Never?” He seems surprised.
“Never. I can't believe I've been so lucky.”
An man dressed like a nobleman, taps him on the shoulder. They shake hands and start talking, until the masked man turns to me again.
I’m about to bite into what looks like a seafood canapé when he interrupts.
“Please excuse me.”
I blink at him. “You are excused.”
His lips curl up again. It seems to be a thing with him. He steps away and joins a group of men nearby.
I finish eating, and pull my cell phone out and start filming. I stare into my camera.
“I managed to rescue the poor prince. He's in finance and real estate, warring subjects, if you ask me, but who am I to judge?
Still, he's been good to me...” I turn the camera around so that I'm filming him, and I start talking again.
“He's talking to someone. He won't take off his mask but he seems sweet and ...”
Just then he walks back into view again.
“Are you filming again?” He doesn't sound too pleased about it.
I immediately stop recording. “I'm sorry. I wanted to capture as much of this evening as I could,” I explain. “I was filming to show my headmistress. She was supposed to come here, but she's not well, and she sent me instead.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“It’s the only reason. It was very kind of her.” I chew my lip. “I won't send these clips to her if you don't want me to.”
He appears to consider it. Then, “I don’t see a problem. You can send them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.
“Thank you, also … you're wearing a mask,” I remind him, “and no one's going to know who you are.”
“Thank goodness.” He glances at my empty plate. “Would you like more? A third or fifth helping?”
I think he made a joke. I smile. “That would be too rude. There is dinner afterwards. Are the tables numbered or named?”
“They're not named. We can sit wherever we want.”
“Oh good! We can sit together.” I'm happy about this, but again, his expression is hard to read.
“Don't you want to?” I ask, just I realize something. Maybe he’s not alone. “Did you come here with someone?”
Shock freezes me. I presumed he was alone, like me.
“If I was here with someone they'd surely have come looking for me by now.”
This is true. A sigh of relief leaves my lips. “They would have. So, you are alone, like me.”
I blink furiously, feeling like I’ve got grit in my eye. “Oh …” I blink some more, because it’s irritating.
“You … dropped something.” He peers closer, then looks at me in horror.
I peer down to see an eyelash floating around in my champagne.
“What is that?” He recoils as I fish it out with a finger.
“A false eyelash.” I hold it up triumphantly. “I told my friend I didn’t want to wear these.” I wipe it off on my napkin. “She insisted. She said it would make my eyes stand out even though I was wearing a mask.”
He leans closer to me. My breath catches because he’s very close.
“What is it now?” I don't like the expression on his face.
“Your eyes. They look a bit strange, not too strange, but … strange.”
I shrink back.
“You look wonderful,” he says, quickly. “Striking, even, … but your one eye has long eyelashes and the other one ...”
“Would you mind?” I close my eyes and jut my face towards him.
“Would I mind what?”
I open my eyes and realize that he’s even closer now, and looking at me. I catch a whiff of his cologne. I like it. It's sea-breezy and fresh and cool all at the same time.
“Would you mind helping me to peel it off? I don't have a mirror on me and I don't want to go to the washroom. The queue will be long, unless I went into the men's washroom. I did that once when I was at a concert with my friend and—”
“Okay. Tell me what to do.”
“Help me peel it off. That way my eyelashes will look the same.”
“That's true,” he agrees. “Might balance your eyes out a bit.”
“There's a corner here, somewhere.”
He puts his hand on my face and then tilts my chin up at him. “I don't want to poke your eye out.”
“Then don’t.”
This makes him chuckle.
“But I'll forgive you if you do and I promise not to sue you. I don't have much money. I'm just a kindergarten teacher.”
“So you’ve said.”
He catches the outer edge of the lash and gently peels it away. I blink a few times.
“What do you want me to do with this?” He holds the line of lashes between his fingers.
“You could keep it as a souvenir.”
He makes a face.
“I was joking.” I swat him lightly across his arm.
“Something’s happening.” He looks behind me and I turn around. One of the event staff seems to be ushering the guests onward.
Mysterious Man glances at his watch. “Dinner is being served.”
“Then maybe I should rush to the washroom now.” I look around for someone I can ask. Better to go now than later.
“Will you wait for me?” I reach for my clutch and mask.
“Of course.”