A Free Vacation Read online

acation

  Copyright 2013 Guy Tiphane

  The white plastic letters on black felt told Janet that Silver Hawaiian Homes met in the Regency Room. She rushed towards the right side of the lobby, trailing her husband John behind her.

  “How do you know it’s that way?” asked John, out of breath.

  “It’s always that way, in any hotel,” she said, “I guess they all use the same architect. Ah! See?” She pointed up at words on the wall in gold letters and said, “Regency Room, that way.”

  She paused in front of an open door, considering her husband as he approached. He had never been the athletic kind, she thought, but the pounds accumulated over the years now showed in an unsightly overgrown belly.

  “You need to get in shape,” she said, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

  “Yeah, right,” he said. “Like I’m going to go to a gym.”

  “At least try to look like you’ll be able to walk to the plane at the airport.”

  They had been promised a free trip to Hawaii, to go check out some new condos. John had listened carefully to the instructions given to him on the phone, and had relayed them to Janet. It was all free! Together they had concluded that they could get the trip without ever buying a condo. They only needed to sound interested, yet skeptical, at this first meeting, so it would be obvious that they should see the site with their own eyes. It was important that they play the part well, to sound like they might fit a trip in their otherwise busy schedule.

  Janet wanted them to look like a happy and moderately wealthy couple. John wore a navy blue blazer and a blue shirt, open collar. She wore one of her black pant suits and made it pretty with a pink and fuchsia silk scarf around her neck. She made sure John washed the car that morning.

  A woman sitting behind the table at the entrance greeted them and asked them for their name.

  “Carpenter,” said Janet, already spotting their name badges on the table.

  Glossy folders in hand, they directed themselves to their designated table, glancing at the buffet on the way. After they placed their folders in front of the two chairs from where they could watch the presentation without twisting their necks, a man in a Hawaiian shirt approached them. Jim Saunders, as he introduced himself, looked to Janet like a man who took good care of himself. Probably in his fifties, silver-haired, with green eyes, a good complexion, and great proportions, he was, in Janet’s opinion, one of the few men who could still look good wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said. “Help yourself at the buffet. Can I get you drinks from the bar?”

  Janet asked for white wine, and John wanted a beer.

  “Oh, bacon!” said John as they approached the buffet. “Looks like you can make your own BLT.”

  “That’s prosciutto,” said Janet. “It’s Italian cured ham. You won’t like it.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, poking at the prosciutto with the serving fork. “You may be right: it isn’t crispy at all.”

  “Matthew served me some with melon, last time I visited. They serve it as appetizer at his restaurant.”

  “Oh, you and your son in San Francisco who can’t have his bacon like every man in America.”

  John had made progress, Janet thought, noticing he avoided to use the word “fag” to designate their son Matthew, a sous-chef at a trendy restaurant in San Francisco. Janet was proud of her son. When she traveled to visit him, he took her to sample other restaurants, getting the royal treatment, since he knew the owners. In his kitchen at his restaurant, she had learned to make new dishes, like tarte tatin from the pastry chef. One day, she thought, she could become a chef herself.

  “That’s where I’ll have a restaurant one day,” said Matthew on the phone when she told him about the free trip to Hawaii. She had not imagined there could be fancy restaurants there, but she liked the idea. She even thought about going with him, to explore the possibilities. Maybe he would hire her, in a modest position of course, in the restaurant, to take care of the customers. She didn’t like the word “hostess,” preferring the role of a Maitre D’ with a feminine touch.

  It sounded so far away, so remote. Now she had to pretend they were interested in buying a condo so they could get a free trip.

  Back at their table, she wished Jim Saunders would notice how well she had laid out the food in her plate, a sign of sophistication. She also wished John wouldn’t have gone ahead to make his BLT, cutting olive bread rolls in halves and filling them with layers of prosciutto, lettuce, and tomato. His plate was a mess.

  She was relieved when another couple came to their table and kept Jim Saunders busy. All eyes were on him and away from John’s plate and the obscene sandwich he was now biting into with yellow teeth. They started the presentation.

  While the speaker introduced himself, Janet looked dreamily at the photos of Hawaii projected on the big screen. She had ventured in the travel section at the public library, just to see what she could find about the islands to help Matthew in his search for a restaurant site. She knew she could be disappointed by the hordes of tourists in a place like Honolulu and Waikiki Beach, and yet that could guarantee an endless supply of customers. She daydreamed while turning page after page of beautiful photos of jungles, beaches, volcanoes (not a restaurant site), and resorts. The librarian came to take her out of her reverie and tell her that the library had closed. The computers had been turned off as announced a half hour ago by the librarian himself, which meant she could not take the books home with her.

  Now that she was similarly enchanted by the pictures on the screen, the man showed them a series of maps leading to the construction site on the island of Kauai. As he proceeded with his description of the project, Janet could not imagine anything closer to paradise.

  “Oh! Golf!” exclaimed John when he saw pictures of the planned 18-hole championship golf course.

  “Yes, Sir, all the golf you’ve ever wanted to play, year-round!” said the presenter.

  “You don’t play golf,” whispered Janet.

  “Yes I do. I’ve played at the Municipal. And I watch it on TV.”

  “You shot balls at the driving range. This is not your caliber.”

  “Whatever.”

  She suddenly realized that John had never been part of her daydreaming. Paradise as she saw it projected on the screen became like purgatory at the thought of John’s presence.

  For theirs was a case of peaceful but dull coexistence. They lived separate lives, except for the meals she prepared and that they consumed while watching TV. They talked about what the house needed, and what telemarketers had called to offer. She read books in bed while he watched the late sports news in the living room. He often fell asleep on the couch.

  She loved her son more than anyone in this world. John had soon given up on Matthew after he failed to interest his son in sports, or woodworking. Matthew practically grew up watching his mother in the kitchen and learning about old recipes from her own mother. He was finally admitted to the culinary institute in San Francisco and moved there. The next Christmas, he wanted to come home with his boyfriend, but John said no. That was when Janet started to travel by herself, with her own money, to visit her son. She even considered moving there permanently, encouraged by Matthew and some of his nice friends she had met. The very day she decided to talk to John about divorcing him, his father died. New preoccupations kept them too busy to talk about themselves.

  They showed slides of the condos on the screen. There were one-, two-, and three-bedroom units, many with breathtaking views of the ocean. Kitchen and bath designs could be pre-selected if buyers signed up early enough. They showed photos of kitchens with granite countertops and stainless
steel appliances.

  “You never wanted to renovate the kitchen,” she whispered.

  “Not true. I painted it. What’s the big idea of putting marble anyway?”

  He got up to order another beer from the bar. Janet saw that Jim Saunders noticed. They looked like a couple who would never agree to buy a condo together.

  Janet opened her folder, turning the pages distractedly while listening to the presentation. She saw a map of the project featuring a restaurant at the club house, and thought it would be ideal for Matthew. She saw the price list, and started calculating in her mind if she could use her Aunt Sylvia’s inheritance money to pay for it. She could, especially if she added half the value of their current home.

  She continued listening to the man and turning one page after another until she paused at the two-page spread entitled, “Start a New Life at Silver Hawaiian Homes.” She kept her right hand holding it open as if touching a religious icon.

  The presentation ended. The couple at their table started talking business with Jim Saunders. John shifted on his chair, raising his glass to his mouth, apparently waiting for something to happen.

  “So,” he said, deforming his mouth as if to muffle his voice, “when do they hand out the free tickets?”

  Her hand and eyes still fixed on the page that spoke to her, Janet said, “John, I’m going on my own.”

  He looked at her, and she looked at him. They seemed to be relieved.