Because the Night

bring me to him

The only problem was, where was Mr. Highland Royalty? The hotel was gigantic. The trails, miles farther. 

Alone in the hallway in a maze of hallways, Lily made a deal with the hotel. She looked up at the wood panel ceiling as she walked, where she decided the spirit of the place lived. "Bring me to him, and I'll be forever thankful," she tried, at first. Then she decided that wasn't concrete enough. How would the hotel know where to direct her? 

"Bring me to Diego Moody, Mr. Highland Himself," she whispered.

Lily decided that the hotel was listening, and whatever she did next, it was leading her closer to him. This attitude was necessary. Otherwise, for each wrong turn she took down this long and winding hotel, she would grow more anxious, and so by the time she actually found him her hair would be frizzy, her eyes wide with exacerbation, and her feet aching. And how could she seduce him in that state? 

No, she would be serene, she thought as she headed down the main stairs. Still, she went with purpose. She walked down the hallway to the place where she first met Diego. His favorite veranda. 

As she opened the door, she willed him into being. Be there! She commanded. But there was just an older man who seemed like he'd been rocking there for a month. "Sorry," she muttered. 

Fine. No not frazzled at all. Right? Right. 

She turned around for the Lake Room. A few hours ago, the core of the large, drafty room made warm by activity. Their activity. 

Now, the room was being converted for afternoon snacks by a group of people. She awkwardly paused at the side of the room to look at all the people in maroon Highland shirts. None of them were Diego. Right, moving on. 

Lily stood in the center of a whirlwind of people with direction. The lobby, where some people checked in and escaped, and others checked out and went back to their lives. The screen door opening and shutting for the people heading out to the lake in beach clothes. The sound of the rocking chair. 

This was not a place for sitting and watching everyone else do things. The entire hotel was built for people who can't stay still: Kayak! Then dance! Have tea, mill about, socialize! Lying in bed with your limbs throbbing, you could congratulate yourself on a hard day's work — of vacation. This was the kind of person who went to Highland. 

From the window, Lily admired at a group meandering through the gardens. They were literally stopping to smell the roses. One woman was wildly gesturing, so gigantic was her enthusiasm for this day, these flowers, this boundless sky. That woman looked a lot like her mom. When Annabelle was excited, you could tell from a mile away. She seemed to bounce. 

Oh, wait. That was her mom. Lily, now admitting that she was indeed totally lonely, felt like her plan was actually formed in a streak of naivety, went out to join the group. 

Her mom beamed, as if she were expecting Lily to arrive, any second now. "Lily! Just in time! We're taking a hike." 

"I thought you were taking a tour of the gardens?" 

"The gardens are over. It's done!" She said. "I have smelled every flower. They were lovely. And now, are predictable. Onwards, onto the trail." 

"You were just dancing all day. Aren't you tired?" 

Al chimed in. Lily hadn't even realized he was there. She guessed this meant he was sticking around. "Your mom and I have boundless energy." 

Lily almost threw up, actually, at that. But fine. She agreed to go along on their hike to Eagle Creek, or whatever nature-sounding place they were going to next. Diego was somewhere else in the world, she'd made peace with it, that dancing chorus line in her stomach could stop stomping around, thank you! 

She would see him tomorrow. At the designated hour. Ten in the morning, when class started, and she'd be in a perfectly twirl-able dress. Anyway, who says he even wants to see her before that hour, when he was paid to be nice to her? Imagine — if this is exhausting to read, how tiring it was to be Lily, where the thoughts were amassing and turning into a cyclone able to knock down all other thoughts before they could form. Instead of admiring a tree, she was thinking about his biceps. 

Such was her obsession: The world seemed to be speaking to her in the language of Diego. 

She went to her room and got changed out of her dress and into green shorts and a blank tank. They walked to the back entrance of the hotel, where some trails started. "I heard this was the trail," her mom chirped. Whatever that meant. More maroon shirts. None of them Diego's. 

Until. Until they were in the entryway of the hotel, and the tennis courts were in sight, and suddenly, so was he. He was coming back from the courts, swinging a racket. She stopped in her tracks. Her mom was still walking, deep in conversation with Al. 

"Lily," he said. 

Did that mean "hello?" Or did that mean Lily, an exhale of her name, a sign of relief at the sight of her ponytail and dress? Could it mean both, forever? 

"Come for a walk," she said to him.

"I just played tennis."

"And I just danced. Come on," she said. 

He looked around, as if deciding. "All right," he shrugged. Then he ran up to the doorman and handed him his racket. "Take this in for me, will you?" he said. 

The doorman was about 44, and looked at Diego knowingly, with the affection of  having seem him also at age 5, then 15, and then this. Then he looked at Lily and the expression changed. More like amused, than affectionate. 

"Be safe up there," he told Diego. 

"I could walk up there with my eyes closed," Diego said .

"Maybe you should try that," Lily shot back. 

"Just be sure to tell me how many times he falls," the doorman said, laughing. 

Diego shook his head. "I shouldn't have given you my tennis racket." 

"You surrendered too quickly," the doorman said, shrugging. 

"Come on, Lily, let's get out of here, before he turns on me," he said, turning around, and putting his hand on Lily's shoulders. She couldn't say anything. Her mouth clamped. 

"Looks like they're getting along," he said, gesturing to Lily's mom and her new beau. 

"Oh, yeah. I've lost her completely. I blame the tango," Lily said. She said it just to see what he'd say next.

"Well," Diego said, "I've heard that tango is good at bringing people together."

"Wouldn't you know?" 

She wanted to look over at him. She wanted to see his face. Was it sad? Was he lying? 

"That's not why I dance," he said. "Not really." 

They'd fallen behind. Diego walked so slowly that Lily had to consciously fall to his step. She looked up at stared at the trees, more detailed at this speed. 

Up ahead, Al and Annabelle were bumping shoulders as they curved along with the path. Lily was swallowing the idea that this would be her view for the next hour. She wanted to be happy for her mom, but Al walked like he was a cardboard cutout come to life. Not sexy. 

Diego stopped walking and stood at the front of a tiny dirt path that led directly down into the forest. "Hey, how do you feel about an adventure?" 

Lily catalogued how she felt: Jittery. Nervous. Obsessed. More than a bit hungry.

And, ok: She felt up for the adventure. How could she deny the workings of fate that plopped him into her path at just the right time, just as she'd given up on spontaneity? She was not too arrogant to deny the awe of that. 

"Let's go," she said, and down they went. And they went alone.