Chapter 10

The next morning, I awoke about 6:00. Adrienne was already in the shower. My mouth felt like a sewer. I stumbled into the john, relieved my bladder and then brushed my teeth. Just as I was finishing the teeth, Adrienne turned off the shower and opened the curtain. She was gorgeous. I was instantly hard and just as instantly sorry that I couldn't do anything about it.

Adrienne bent over to dry her legs. She spotted my erection and smiled. "That's a nice tribute for an old broad like me."

"You're even more beautiful in the morning than you are at night."

"That's right," she smiled, "you've never seen me in the morning, have you? Yesterday morning, you were sound asleep when I left. Although that," she pointed at my groin, "was not. If I hadn't had to leave early, I've have taken advantage of it. Today, I feel the same way. Maybe someday, I may be able to take you for a morning canter."

"You've got a rain cheque, which I plan to honour at the first opportunity. This morning, we both have obligations. I'd love to give you a lift, but I have to get my ass out of here as well."

"That's OK. My old car is in the garage downstairs. At least it was the last time I looked."

Adrienne finished drying herself. She came over to me, put her arms around me and gave me a good-morning kiss. Like the kisses last night, it began sweetly enough but soon developed into a passionate lip-lock. We came up for air.

"Woman, if you want to retrieve your daughter, you'd best unhand me. Otherwise, you'll be forced to spend all day in bed."

Adrienne smiled and gave me a chaste peck on the lips. "That wouldn't take much forcing. You're one hell of a sexy guy. And it's been a hell of a long time since I had any loving at all, much less the kind that I've had in this room."

Adrienne went to get dressed while I climbed into the shower. I finished my shower and was shaving when she poked her head back into the washroom. Once again she was dressed in her jeans outfit.

"OK, Pat. I'm out of here."

I wrapped a towel around me and walked her to the door. Adrienne turned to me, suddenly very serious. Her eyes glistened with the beginning of tears.

"Pat, I want to thank you so much. That was a great night. It was the best time I've had in years. It was wonderful to be with someone who was so loving and caring. Even if this never happens again, I'll cherish the memory."

"Adrienne, I feel the same way. We were fated to be together last night. Let's keep in touch. Who knows what may happen?"

Adrienne smiled, kissed me quickly and left. I stood there for a moment with tears in my eyes. It was a very long time since anyone had described me as "loving and caring." Perhaps there was hope yet for my jaded old carcass.

Finally, I got my ass in gear. I finished my ablutions, dressed and packed my suitcase. I closed the case and took a last look around the room to make sure I wasn't leaving anything. The phone rang. My limo was waiting downstairs.

I pulled up in front of Shauna's place at 8:00 on the dot. It was one of those older mid-rise apartment buildings that you still find in the east end of Toronto. Shauna was already waiting at the curb. She had two enormous suitcases beside her. A tall blonde girl was struggling out the door with yet another large case. I assumed her to be Shauna's roommate.

I got out of the car. Shauna came over, hugged me and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Pat, this is my friend Robin."

I shook Robin's hand. She was pale and thin. Already at this hour of the morning, she was wearing far too much makeup for my taste. Her clothing consisted of a pair of hip-hugger jeans and a bright yellow crop-top, exposing her stomach to the cold January morning air. Her navel was pierced. In it, she wore a small diamond stud. Navel and stud formed the centre of a tattoo of an eight-pointed star. She seemed about as different from Shauna as was possible.

Shauna hugged Robin and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Robbie, for helping me out. You're great."

Robin smiled, holding Shauna at arm's length, a hand on each of her shoulders. "It's OK, kid. I had to be up early this morning anyway. Have a great time."

The driver loaded Shauna's bags into the limousine, and we were off. Shauna waved to Robin. She turned and smiled at me. "I can't believe that we're on our way. God, I hope I didn't forget anything."

I smiled at her in return. "Don't worry. In the first place, it's too late now. In the second place, you're not going on a safari. Ottawa, believe it or not, is a civilized town. It even has stores where you can buy all kinds of stuff, including clothing and toiletries."

Shauna gave me a little mock punch in the arm. She smiled at me and said, "Please don't make fun of me. I'm just excited."

She was obviously becoming more comfortable with me. And that pleased me.

At the airport, we checked in without incident. I suspected that Shauna's bags were a bit over the official weight limit, but the clerk let them through without comment. I led the way to the first-class lounge.

The Maple Leaf Lounge at Pearson International is a pretty impressive looking place -- deliberately so. Air Canada wants to make first and business class travelers feel as though they're getting something for their money. Of course, booze, snacks, coffee, etc., are "free." After all, you've more than paid for them with the cost of your ticket.

Shauna looked around. Her eyes appeared literally as big as saucers -- pretty blue saucers. "I've never been here before. This is really something," she said.

"It's nice. How about some juice, coffee and a muffin or something?"

We got our food and drink and sat at a table. Shauna was still looking around. "Pat, do you always fly first class?"

"As often as I can. I spend a lot of time in planes. I'm not fond of traveling, so I like to make it as painless as possible. I know that it seems foolish to pay extra for a flight that's less than an hour, but why sit at the back of the bus if you don't have to?"

We finished our breakfast only a few minutes before the boarding call. One of the many good things about flying business class is that you can board any time. And you don't have to worry about some asshole taking all the overhead storage space so that you have to ride with your feet on your briefcase and your coat on your lap. The flight attendant takes care of all that shit for you.

On this flight, the attendant in business class was Chantale, a woman I'd flown with many times. I introduced her to Shauna, and we took our seats, numbers 1A and 1C in the first row. The flight was, of course uneventful. Shauna kept up a stream of chatter. She was clearly nervous. I could readily understand that, since she was going into an unfamiliar milieu in a town she'd never visited. I responded when called for. Otherwise, I simply listened.

We arrived at Ottawa International and took a cab to my house. The cab driver, in true Ottawa fashion, bitched and moaned about the big bags, but he brightened considerably when I gave him a large tip. He even offered to carry the bags upstairs, an offer I accepted. Before the driver left, he gave me his card, and I put it in my wallet. He'd remember me in future, and it would be well worth my effort to use him again.

I showed Shauna to her room, the one I liked to call the "guest suite," on the second floor. It was a fairly large bedroom overlooking the back garden. There was a connecting door to the washroom, which made it almost like an ensuite. Hence my nickname for the room. I left Shauna to get to her unpacking and went to my office to check email and messages.

Most of the email was spam. So was most of the snail mail, with the exception of several bills. I'd checked the voice mail from my hotel room last night. There were two new phone messages since then. I listened to the voice mail on the speaker phone while I looked at my bills. The first voice message was from Joe Dudich and concerned next week's work schedule, most of which I knew already. The other was from Tori.

"Hi, Patty-poo. Things are going really well here. I'm working my butt off and having a great time. I have six oboe students at the university in addition to concerts and shit. It looks like I'm staying. I'll be coming to Ottawa to pack up my stuff in a few weeks. See ya."

I was stunned. Jesus, that was cold. How could she leave a message like that, so matter of fact? "See ya." It was the voice mail version of a "Dear John" letter. Only worse. I stared at the phone until the automated voice of the message service demanded that I make a choice from the menu. I pushed the "goodbye" button on the phone and went to the bar. I poured myself a gin and tonic. A monster gin and tonic. I heard a little noise. I turned around. Shauna was standing in the doorway. It was obvious from her look that she'd heard Tori's message.

"God, I'm sorry Pat! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I mean, you seem really upset. And I didn't mean to... I just wanted to ask which shelves I could use in the washroom..." She tapered off.

I took a long drink and deep breath. "To answer your question, that washroom is yours. Use any cabinet, any shelf -- anything. To answer your unspoken question, the voice on the phone was my girlfriend, Tori. She's now my ex-girlfriend, as it turns out."

"Oh God. Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you, and I'm sorry to have overheard, and..."

"Shauna, don't worry about it. I know that it's only 10:30 in the morning, but I'm having a drink. Would you like one?"

"Yeah, I think I would. Do you have any white wine?"

"Coming right up."

I went to the little bar fridge and popped open a bottle of chardonnay. I poured Shauna a glass, handed it to her and then went over to the chesterfield and sat down. I stared at the painting on the opposite wall, not really seeing it. Shauna came and sat next to me. She sipped at her wine, then she reached out and touched my hand.

"I know that this is a silly question, but is there anything I can do?"