Enough to Miss Christmas

I prayed to be alone but Paul was seated at a corner table and waved me over. There was an empty cup of coffee in front of him. He rose and held out a chair for me. I sighed and plunked myself down.

Before I opened my mouth, he was apologizing. "I booked the room before I knew you didn't like this fiscal overkill business. It was foolish of me to go overboard. The roses too." Then he added, as if trying to change the subject. "You look nice. I like your dress."

"It's great for going to a wedding. Do you see any marriages being performed?"

"Sorry. I forgot you didn't have clothes. I could . . ."

I cut him off. "Don't even suggest it . . . "

"Sorry. Look, I know now the suite was too much. I'll move you to another room if you'd like me to."

"No need. I'll be leaving today."

I'd managed to shock him and he truly looked troubled. "You can't!" He put his hand to his head. "Damn, I'm sorry; there I go dictating again. Let me rephrase it; I don't want you to."

My will to continue was wilting like spring snow but I plugged ahead trying to convince myself my action was for the best. "I'm sorry too. I know you mean well but your life style and mine are so far apart we're in different universes. It's best we chalk up the past two days as a fun experience and both move on. Your other girl friends may relish this type of treatment but I'm just embarrassed by it. I don't have money, never have had and have no chance of ever getting it. What's more important, I don't particularly give a shit about it. Pardon my army vocabulary. I'm not trying to be snooty, just truthful."

"I know I tried too hard."

"It's not you. It's me. I haven't drunk more than a beer in a couple of decades, and now I've woken up with hangovers two days in a row. You spent more on that lovely picnic and last night's dinner than I spend for a year's groceries. It boggles my mind. God knows what that suite upstairs costs, and I barely spent a waking hour in it. No, that's not right. I was awake half the night, bending over the toilet; the marble toilet."

"God, I'm sorry!"

"Damn it! Stop apologizing! It's getting tiresome."

He reached for my hand but I drew it away. "Just stay until Wednesday, please. Your terms. I'll change your room to the janitor's closet if that's what it takes." He added," I had plans for today."