received several days ago from Ray, the man with the “cancer stones.” The tumor, he said, had shrunk in a dramatic way that only chemo and radiation usually achieved. My first bit of medical “proof” that perhaps I helped him to heal. Or so I have to believe.
“ I don’t know what I’d call it, but it’s not confidence.”
“ Well just pretend. We’re due to go in!”
I follow Marly into The Mirage lobby, jittery with nerves, but unable to turn away.
At the front desk Marly angles herself between me and the well-coiffed young man with an impeccably square jaw. He peers around her shoulder like she’s concealing someone famous. Then he rings our host to let him know we’re here.
Ten minutes later a woman of an age I find hard to determine emerges in a two-piece suit. She ’s the kind of small that gets called ‘petite’ and smells of a lily-scented cream I associate with old ladies. She guides us to the elevators.
“ Marly, Love,” she says, and she appears to grow an inch when she smiles and takes Marly’s hands.
“ You know each other?” I ask. Marly didn’t mention that detail.
Marly smiles at me. “Mariam and Calvin let me rent a room when I first moved to Vegas.”
“ Oh goodness, when Calvin first started working for Cirque,” Mariam says, lips compressing as if she’s spoken a dirty word.
She passes the politeness test when looking at me, no tortured effort to make eye contact, just a sweet smile.
Before we move on, Mariam pats Marly’s belly with a knowing look. “Children are such blessings,” she says. “You’ll work it out.” Marly steps back, confused. I know in that moment that Marly hasn’t told Mariam about the pregnancy. Do Mariam and I have more in common than meets the eye?
Their suite is not extravagant, with the lived-in signs of people staying awhile: clothes tossed in heaps, books stacked by the bedside. From the other room comes a heavy sigh and a groan. “He’s in there,” Mariam says, as though the agonized sound didn’t give it away. She points to an open suite door, where I can make out a long limb and big foot draped on a couch.
She keeps talking, “He promised me retirement by now.” Her voice is choked, and tears ring her eyes. “I was supposed to be in a bikini on Greek islands by now, not hunkering in dark rooms while he gets the thrill of the crowd. And for what? Does anybody know his name? Is he famous?”
Marly nods and clucks under her breath. She takes Mariam ’s hand. “You’ve given up a lot,” she says as though she empathizes, though the woman sounds petulant to me.
“ He thinks I agreed to this because I’ve seen the light and am supporting his work,” she says in a low voice now. “But he doesn’t know I’m making him an ultimatum after today. It’s me or the show!”
Marly ’s nods continuously. “You deserve some time. Can I make you some tea?” She looks toward the cluttered little kitchenette with an eye of uncertainty.
Mariam ’s sniffles become fully fledged tears as Marly leads her to a little sofa that looks out through a large window onto the glowing shapes of The Strip. The view is like looking out onto a planet of its own with unusual life forms. Marly signals with a nod that I should head into Calvin’s room. My heart makes a skittery thump before I brace myself and walk in, feeling apologetic, as though I’m interrupting him.
“ I’m working in two hours,” a deep bass voice says when I enter his room. My gaze starts at his electric blue and silver wing-tip shoes. From there my eyes walk the length of emerald green trousers, up and up the expanse of legs to a barrel chest smocked in an electric blue vest and white frilled undershirt, up further to a large head with penetrating green eyes and a vividly white mustache. “So I hope it’s okay I’ve got my show-clothes on.”
“ Working?” I can’t imagine what he does. Reaches things in tall places? Then I remember Mariam referring to
“ I don’t know what I’d call it, but it’s not confidence.”
“ Well just pretend. We’re due to go in!”
I follow Marly into The Mirage lobby, jittery with nerves, but unable to turn away.
At the front desk Marly angles herself between me and the well-coiffed young man with an impeccably square jaw. He peers around her shoulder like she’s concealing someone famous. Then he rings our host to let him know we’re here.
Ten minutes later a woman of an age I find hard to determine emerges in a two-piece suit. She ’s the kind of small that gets called ‘petite’ and smells of a lily-scented cream I associate with old ladies. She guides us to the elevators.
“ Marly, Love,” she says, and she appears to grow an inch when she smiles and takes Marly’s hands.
“ You know each other?” I ask. Marly didn’t mention that detail.
Marly smiles at me. “Mariam and Calvin let me rent a room when I first moved to Vegas.”
“ Oh goodness, when Calvin first started working for Cirque,” Mariam says, lips compressing as if she’s spoken a dirty word.
She passes the politeness test when looking at me, no tortured effort to make eye contact, just a sweet smile.
Before we move on, Mariam pats Marly’s belly with a knowing look. “Children are such blessings,” she says. “You’ll work it out.” Marly steps back, confused. I know in that moment that Marly hasn’t told Mariam about the pregnancy. Do Mariam and I have more in common than meets the eye?
Their suite is not extravagant, with the lived-in signs of people staying awhile: clothes tossed in heaps, books stacked by the bedside. From the other room comes a heavy sigh and a groan. “He’s in there,” Mariam says, as though the agonized sound didn’t give it away. She points to an open suite door, where I can make out a long limb and big foot draped on a couch.
She keeps talking, “He promised me retirement by now.” Her voice is choked, and tears ring her eyes. “I was supposed to be in a bikini on Greek islands by now, not hunkering in dark rooms while he gets the thrill of the crowd. And for what? Does anybody know his name? Is he famous?”
Marly nods and clucks under her breath. She takes Mariam ’s hand. “You’ve given up a lot,” she says as though she empathizes, though the woman sounds petulant to me.
“ He thinks I agreed to this because I’ve seen the light and am supporting his work,” she says in a low voice now. “But he doesn’t know I’m making him an ultimatum after today. It’s me or the show!”
Marly ’s nods continuously. “You deserve some time. Can I make you some tea?” She looks toward the cluttered little kitchenette with an eye of uncertainty.
Mariam ’s sniffles become fully fledged tears as Marly leads her to a little sofa that looks out through a large window onto the glowing shapes of The Strip. The view is like looking out onto a planet of its own with unusual life forms. Marly signals with a nod that I should head into Calvin’s room. My heart makes a skittery thump before I brace myself and walk in, feeling apologetic, as though I’m interrupting him.
“ I’m working in two hours,” a deep bass voice says when I enter his room. My gaze starts at his electric blue and silver wing-tip shoes. From there my eyes walk the length of emerald green trousers, up and up the expanse of legs to a barrel chest smocked in an electric blue vest and white frilled undershirt, up further to a large head with penetrating green eyes and a vividly white mustache. “So I hope it’s okay I’ve got my show-clothes on.”
“ Working?” I can’t imagine what he does. Reaches things in tall places? Then I remember Mariam referring to
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