Olivia Goldsmith - Wish Upon a Star

As if feeling himself observed, Michael opened his eyes. ‘Hello,’ he said, his voice dipping somehow in the middle of the word, making it sound like a self-assured greeting. Claire felt herself blush again and this time it did embarrass her. She fell back on her pillow. Michael raised himself on one elbow, bent over her and kissed her. He lifted his head. ‘Go back to sleep, angel,’ he told Claire and tucked the sheet in on either side of her.

When Claire opened her eyes again Michael was already dressed, his back to her as he loaded his pockets from the top of the bureau. He picked up the last two objects: the comb he tucked in the breast pocket of his jacket and the watch he strapped onto his left wrist. He was ready to leave!

She sat up suddenly and he must have seen her reflection in the mirror before him. She couldn’t see herself but she could see his face, and the way it changed from concentration on his task to an open smile. ‘Good morning,’ he said. Surely he likes me, Claire thought. His smile was so warm. He didn’t have to smile, she told herself.

Michael turned away from the mirror. As he came toward the bed he reached out for her hand, then kissed it quickly. ‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ he said. ‘I thought if I couldn’t sleep until noon, at least one of us could.’ He pushed some stray hair off his forehead. ‘As they say over here, “I’m knackered.”’

‘What’s that?’

‘Tired. Exhausted.’ He grinned.

Claire glanced at the clock beside the bed. ‘Oh, I won’t sleep very long,’ she told him.

He turned to go, giving her advice over his shoulder. ‘Well, change your plan. Sleep in. Then call down for breakfast, eat it in bed and then get your hair done.’ Claire was about to ask him if he thought she needed ‘doing’ when he turned back, but just to grab his raincoat and walk back to the door. ‘Gotta go or I’ll be late,’ he said. ‘I should be back before seven.’

She jumped out of bed, ran to the door and managed to get there before he was out. ‘Bye-bye,’ she said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiled at her but she saw that he was already distracted, thinking of work.

‘Bye,’ he said and closed the door behind him.

She stood against the door and caught sight of herself in the mirror. From this distance she looked like a woman in a movie, or on TV. For a moment she wondered why the prepositions were different: you’re in one and on the other. She smiled at the irrelevance. Michael had been both on and in her. That was obvious. Her hair was disheveled but in a sensual, luxurious way. And behind her the set was equally sensual and luxurious. The beautiful woodwork, the fabric on the wall, the soft carpet, the chair in the corner; it all looked like a scene from someone else’s life, the kind of life she had not even imagined. But it is happening, Claire thought. It is happening to me. Because of him. Then, with a start she ran to the French doors and peeked out. If she opened them and stood just slightly outside, on the balcony but hidden by the curtain, she would be able to see Michael leave the hotel.

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