but had been overcome by genuine feeling. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this so, after Savannah fell asleep, I turned the lights off and crept back to my room.
What a hell of a day, I thought as I changed into my pajamas. It had been the most exhilarating, terrifying, fascinating, adrenaline-charged, and now saddest day of my life all rolled into one. I suppose I was getting more than I bargained for in my plan to live life all the way up. And what topped off the day was something that had nothing to do with my sphere of influence—Isabella’s death, the crowning spike in a crown of thorns, completely beyond my control. Nothing I could do about that. Out of left field, entirely. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.
Morning—I found a new text on my phone when I awoke. It was from Stafford.
MARK: Please come see me when you have a chance. I’ll be in my room for the next half-hour.
This followed with directions on how to get there. The text was decidedly odd. The message was so matter of fact. Why would he want to see me so soon after what happened? I feared someone—anyone else seeing me on my way to his room. I did not want anyone to have cause for spreading rumors. Regarding his grief, he would have to express that in person, wouldn’t he? And even that would be hard. It would be hard for me to bear and I didn’t want to hear it. Why the hell would he want to see me now? I contemplated texting him a refusal to visit. Was I being over analytical? Going off the deep end? Bat-shit crazy? Everyone reacts to grief differently. Stafford was nothing if not unusual. I decided I was reading too deeply into it. His response was perfectly normal—if there was such a thing as a normal response to the death of a spouse. Clearly I didn’t yet have it as together as I thought I did after conversing with Julie in email the day before. I wondered increasingly why I second-guessed myself so much after all that had happened. I felt out of sorts, like I was losing my grip, almost delirious. As the world began to spin around me, I sat down on my bed to try to calm down.
I stand in silence a moment before knocking. Closing my eyes, I tell myself I will not say anything dramatic. I’ll keep calm. I will not cry. I open my eyes and knock. A few moments later Stafford opens the door. He’s holding a Blackberry in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. To my dismay two porters are packing suitcases in his room. As he walks away, I get a look at the spacious room for the first time. It is elegant, if spare, in décor. Large bay windows give way to an exquisite view, the most exquisite I’ve seen from the villa, of Anse Lazio and the surrounding hills and trees. The room is on the top floor of the villa. This is the highest vantage point in the villa, perhaps apart from what you might see from the roof. I find the beauty and peace of the room in extreme contrast to the grim emotional pallor now enveloping the whole of this mighty Xanadu. The sepulchral feel of the place seems to smile at me in tremendous mocking evil. I realize I’m getting carried away, and quickly return to my senses.
Stafford waves at me, having set down his coffee though still on the phone, as if to usher me back to reality. He is a picture of serenity. But why? Was the torpid appearance of Anna at my door last night simply a dream? The porters leave and I examine the boisterous Anse Lazio as Stafford finishes his call.
“Yes…yes…I understand…well how deeply considerate of you…outstanding, spectacular…I don’t know what else to say. No, my mother passed away in my youth.”
I glance at him, he has his back to me.
“No, really…I understand. I must be going now, Arthur…business will go on…one day, one day…bye, bye.” His voice trails off.
There is a chill at the back of my neck as though a ghost has just entered the room. I hear him set the phone down on a table behind me. Goosebumps