Feminine 101

I want to introduce my first fiction work. I’ve decided on an unconventional means of self-publishing because, frankly, I’m impatient. So, every post in this series, and there are twenty of them, will be telling a long-form fictional story. I hope you enjoy it!

The marker squeaked faintly as Professor Carson’s weathered hand scrawled out homework assignments in hurried strokes across the white board. A general bustle of activity stirred the classroom to life as the lesson wrapped up, and students gathered materials into backpacks and satchels. A dark-haired young woman jotted down the abbreviated version in a slanted, elegant hand, then began stowing her books and laptop in her canvas satchel. Whilst stuffing her laptop, she heard a dull snap. She was head deep in her bag trying to pinpoint what had broken when she felt the unmistakable presence of someone looming over her. 

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“Are you lost, Rana?” The voice was deep, but playful. 

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Rana extracted her head from the bag grinning up at the concerned citizen. “It got a little hairy in there, but the sound of your voice brought me back.” 

The young man laughed, “Hah, I bet it did.” He crinkled his handsome forehead, “Did you find what you were after?”

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Rana held aloft a crushed pen, specks of ink already staining her slim fingers. “I don’t think it had time to get all over anything,” she mused, eyeing the inside of her bag dubiously. Still she tore out a piece of notebook paper and carefully folded it around the bottom of her textbook and laptop before shoving them into the bag. Hopefully that would keep them from any errant ink spots. 

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“I was thinking about getting some friends together to go bowling this afternoon. Do you want to come?” He glanced nonchalantly over her head, but she didn’t miss the fidgety manner in which his fingers tapped on his pocket. 

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“Bowling?” She made a face. “If I had a thousand years of practice, I don’t think I could ever master it. There’s a traveling exhibit at the Mitchum building. Think we can forego my embarrassment at the alley and go there instead?”

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Derek’s caramel eyes lit up at her acceptance, “I would hate to embarrass you. To the exhibit! What are they exhibiting?” 

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“Ancient Egypt.” She stood shouldering the bag. “Shall we?”

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He nodded and fell into step beside her. Just shy of six feet, he was the picture of youth. His strong brow, thick wavy hair, and winning smile had turned many a head of the fairer sex. He was athletic, although far from the dumb jock stereotype. The runner’s scholarship was a means to an end for him–he was a stone’s throw from finishing up his degree in engineering.  

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Girls in this school generally fell into two categories as he saw it: the shameless flirts who threw themselves at him and the ones who resented his fortunes in the genetic lottery. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he knew Rana was neither. She talked to the gamers, the nerds, and the cheerleaders with the same ease with which he spoke to his teammates, yet he could not peg her to any specific group. While she seemed at ease treating anyone like family, she fit no archetype that he could identify. She was a total mystery to him. So naturally, he couldn’t resist her. It had taken him two semesters to work up the nerve to approach her. Uncertainty, specifically around women, was a bizarre sensation for him, yet he’d felt like he was back in junior high. 

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His mastery of nerves had been rewarded with sweetness. True to form, she slipped into conversation with him as though befriending one of the most eligible bachelors on campus were a typical, everyday occurrence. They’d gone on several group outings together but, despite the feeling that his chances were good, he actually felt troubled that he might ruin their friendship by pushing for more–also a new sensation. Even beyond that, Derek had become increasingly aware that only a very special person would be Rana’s match. He was proportionally less sure that person might be him. 

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Rana headed out into the warm spring air, pausing while Derek held the door for her. She crossed the lawn dotted with students enjoying the beautiful day to stash her bag in the backseat of her Jetta. Derek stepped along beside her, conversing idly over yesterday’s run and the upcoming cross country season. Small talk was not really his thing, but he couldn’t help telling her about his successes and his misgivings. She chimed in asking questions about times and pacing that seemed so natural he wondered if she had ever been a runner.

She opened the backdoor and tossed the satchel on the floor. “I’ll take my car since I have to work at three.” 

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“Mind if I catch a ride over with you? Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way home so you can leave early.” 

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“Of course, sorry for the mess.” 

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He opened the passenger door and eyed the handful of papers stacked neatly on his seat and single paper cup on the console. “Mess?” he asked before folding himself into the front seat.

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The exhibit displayed a variety of relics that felt almost other-worldly. Rana and Derek meandered through each one, reading carefully. On one table were reproductions of ancient tools; odds and ends that welcomed interactive examination. Derek picked up a pair of tongs. 

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“For tooth extraction?” Derek guessed, showing them to her.

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Rana chuckled a laugh, “I doubt that. For moving coals in the braziers more likely…or incense.” She reached out to take the proffered item. She could practically imagine a priest lifting a burning coal into the brazier. “I can almost smell it.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. In the quiet of her imagination, a creeping chill ran up her spine. She opened her eyes, glancing about. The curator of the exhibit, a middle-eastern man in his forties with dark hair, was watching her. When their eyes met, he smiled though without warmth. She suppressed another shiver, unable to account for the wrongness she sensed about the man. Taking their eye contact as an invitation, he angled toward them.

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“Ancient tongs,” he murmured. “These were too light weight to be used for blacksmithing. It is believed they were used for moving coals, perhaps even in the temples by priests of Amun-Ra for incense offerings.” His voice was smooth and fulsome.

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Rana stepped back at the man’s approach, quickly replacing the tongs. She fairly squirmed as he neared. Derek frowned at the curator in dislike. 

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“Thank you,” Rana murmured, then excused herself, her skin practically crawling. Even as every alarm in her mind seemed to be blaring, she could identify nothing in the man’s behavior or appearance to merit such revulsion. She felt guilty, but it did not slow her exit. Derek only followed in puzzlement. 

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“Certainly, Mr. Newcombe. I will have the rental car ready for you by four-thirty p.m. Did you want me to make a dinner reservation for you anywhere? An Italian place? Sure, we love Dalisimo’s downtown, but if you don’t mind a bit of a drive, Cafe Bella’s by the seaside is unforgettable… Of course, I’d be happy to contact them. No problem, Mr. Newcombe!” Rana smiled, placing the phone back on the receiver. She never tired of the variety of guests she served–serious men and women in suits on business trips, heckled and harried parents on family vacations, cocky athletes attending sporting events, and blushing newlyweds like the Newcombes in room 1705.

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The hotel and convention center was built into a hill in the bustling, and ritzy district of the city. The lobby was one enormous octagonal atrium centered around the stairs and elevators with shops circuiting the outer portico. The concierge desk that she manned was situated beneath the soaring atrium overlooking the lavish curving stairwell that led to the shops and health center below. She had an excellent view of the check-in desk and the halls leading to the different towers of the sprawling complex. She would almost certainly see the Newcombes leave and fully intended to congratulate them in person.

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“Oh Rana, if you were any nicer, you’d pack their suitcases for them.” Nicolette, or Nikki, as Rana called her, rolled her eyes in mock irritation. She stood a miniscule five foot four in heels and exuded cuteness from the top of her beach blonde locks, to the tips of her brightly painted toes. She was the daughter of the wealthy hotel mogul for whom they both worked, and a living, breathing stereotype. She was carefree and lively. Never one to turn down an opportunity for fun, Nikki had a real gift for dreaming up creative distractions from that age old bore called work.

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“Oh, I didn’t think to offer that…next time, maybe?” Rana’s gray eyes twinkled as she pulled up the hotel’s private booking page for the car rental. Rana, by contrast, was taller than Nikki by several inches, with hair pulled back in a sophisticated ponytail that would have been plain on anyone else. Even in the bland, crisp hotel uniform, Rana gave the impression of timeless elegance, yet was unexpectedly approachable.  

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“Seriously, I’m not sure what daddy thought he’d accomplish putting me here. All I’ve learned in the last week is that nice people really do exist.” Nikki twirled the end of a styled strand of hair between her fingers. Her initial anxiety at working this job had subsided entirely the moment that her desk mate greeted her on day one. Since then, she’d watched Rana smooth over dozens of ruffled feathers and could not help but admire her ability to put stressed-out travelers–and coworkers–at ease. 

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“Maybe next week you’ll learn that you’re one of them,” offered Rana. “I wonder if there’s anything special we could ask of the Bella’s staff for our newlyweds…”

.The thread hung for only a moment before Nikki snatched it up.

“Let me call them. I have an idea.” Nikki grabbed the phone punching in the number that Rana already had pulled up on her computer screen. 

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See? mouthed Rana before turning to greet a weary-looking older guest approaching from the east tower hallway. She smiled warmly, as if she’d known the stranger her whole life and set about helping the woman find tickets to a musical theater the next day.

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Rana had grown up in a small town in the midwest–the kind of place where the UPS man knows what car you drive and they still throw candy in parades–but she moved to the city after high school, drawn there by invisible strings. Now she was taking classes and working her way through school whilst trying to pay for it in the process. She knew a number of other girls who had moved to the city hoping to find something and she supposed that she was no different, but she relished the day to day interactions of life, however mundane. For her, this in-between stage of life was just as fascinating as whatever end goal, and there certainly must be one, compelled her to move here in the first place.  

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The older guest was fairly glowing while Rana booked her tickets and secured a ride for her to and from the theater. While she worked, she’d asked after the woman’s family and learned that her husband had passed away not a year ago. She was doing something that they’d always spoken of and never actually gotten around to doing. Tomorrow was to be her first anniversary without him in over forty years. Rana’s fingers slowed as an unexpected, familiar ache spread through her. She focused in on the woman’s faraway expression, her own eyes stinging. She knew precisely how the woman felt: to be with someone for a seeming eternity, and then, one day they’re gone. At least, she thought she understood, but then she’d never been in love. 

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The woman seemed to come back to the present and offered a sheepish smile to Rana, “Ah, I do carry on, don’t I?”

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“Not at all, Mrs. Dunning. It does me good to hear that people still fall in love.” Rana reached for the printer where she’d run off detailed instructions and opening times as well as phone numbers. “Do you have a smartphone, Mrs. Dunning?”

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“Oh yes, of course. The silly contraption is smarter than me, I think,” she replied, laughing to herself and digging in her purse.

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“Here, I’ll take a picture in case the paper gets misplaced. That way you’ll still have your reservation info and ticket number.”

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Mrs. Dunning, so fatigued and overwrought by this trip, felt the last of those misgivings melt away as she handed her phone to the gem behind the concierge counter. She’d been having second thoughts about this trip since she shuffled barefoot through TSA’s checkpoint. For the first time, she was totally at ease and even excited for the show. She tucked the paper and her phone into her purse and thanked the girl again before hurrying off to her room.

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Nikki had hung up the phone a while ago, initially watching the exchange as surreptitiously as she could manage. The old woman did carry on, but Rana didn’t seem to mind and scarcely even slowed her work. Nikki shrugged off the pretense of inconspicuousness and instead watched Rana intently. She knew that Rana was barely older than herself, but had never met anyone that age who was not barnacled over by cynicism and vanity. Rana reminded her of her grandmother, or, rather what she thought grandma’s were probably like–the kind of person who would bring you a cookie and glass of milk while you yammered on and on about how Barbie and Ken were taking a break because Barbie felt like Ken just wanted to control her and she just needed space to get her head in the right place…well you get the idea. It was just hard to believe that anyone could be that sincere. 

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They both watched Mrs. Dunning disappear around the corner. Nikki turned to her desk mate and was surprised to see tears shining in her eyes. “You okay?”

Rana turned to her with a flagging smile. “Oh. Yeah. I’m alright. She was sweet wasn’t she? Can you imagine doing all this alone after forty years?”

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Nikki could imagine no such thing. Everything in her life had been about not having to think past what she wanted right now, about ignoring the future and all that it might ask of her. Her father had insisted on placing her here as a last ditch effort to “instill some sense of responsibility and self-respect.” College had been a waste of her time and his money. She’d made friends easily as always, but studies were dull and tedious with the shadow of inevitable obligations to her father’s empire looming ever larger. She craved glamor, vitality, intrigue–the kinds of things every young diva wanted. She recognized that in herself. Never in her life had the ordinary made her look twice. Except, the day she started here. She’d felt awkward and foolish working a concierge desk–when she should be learning to run the place–until this very ordinary girl had made her feel at home. And now here she was, considering how some old woman could take a big trip alone after being in love for an unfathomable length of time…another first. “She’s kinda brave, huh?”

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Rana only nodded and glanced towards the check-in counter. One of the desk clerks  was conversing with a tall, slim man in a business suit before pointing toward their station. He turned toward them, his eyes briefly meeting Rana’s. Casually his gaze moved on and he collected the bag that had been resting at his feet to head their way. 

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Rana swallowed nervously, gripping the desk to keep from swaying. The hum and bustle of the lobby seemed to slow, the sounds suddenly muffled and faraway. It felt like she’d been struck. She blinked slowly, breathing deeply to slow the spinning sensation spreading through her body. As he approached the polished desk, she swallowed again as sound returned to normal. She felt her pulse quicken inexplicably–she’d never seen this man before. 

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Nikki had never seen Rana miss a beat, yet it was clear she was out of sorts now. “How can I help you, sir?” Nikki put on her best Rana-smile and tried to mimic her friend’s innate hospitality. 

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The man, handsome and clean cut if a little cold, curtly informed them that he’d need a rental car for the evening no later than five. Nikki, still new to the job, needed help booking the car. But she’d given Rana an opportunity to recover so she was, once again proving efficient and charming. The mystery guest, unfortunately, was having none of it, which was peculiar. Everyone loved Rana. Everyone. The cleaning ladies, the desk clerks, the chefs, the high-brow guests…everybody. There was no one to whom she couldn’t relate. Her interactions were effortless and natural. But this guy was impatient to the point of rudeness and scarcely even made eye contact. He was constantly looking past them as if expecting someone important to interrupt them. With a terse “thank you,” he headed for the elevators. 

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As the elevator slid shut, Nikki let out a low whistle. “Some piece of work that was!” 

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Rana’s brow was furrowed in thought as she stared at the name on the top of the rental forms. “Nathan Dayleigh,” she let out the breath she only now realized she had been holding. 

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Nikki’s eyebrows climbed, “Please don’t tell me you’re into that!” She waved an incredulous hand in the direction of the glass elevators though his had already disappeared beyond the skylight.

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Rana flashed a sheepish smile that faded almost immediately. “I don’t know.”

“Wait, do you know him?” 

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“No. I–” She paused, frowning. “No. I’ve never seen him before. But something…” She trailed off then shook her head as if to clear it. 

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Nikki, with her acute taste for intrigue, was fully engaged. She had become increasingly convinced that Rana was totally unflappable, but their standoffish guest in a suit had apparently struck a nerve. She tried to picture the man in her mind: he was tall, sandy-haired, kind of handsome, but stern-faced with restless, chocolate eyes. She couldn’t see it. “Something? Like what?”

“Nathan Dayleigh,” Rana repeated with a murmur. She shook her head again. “I don’t know. Something.” 

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Rana was distracted the remainder of the evening. She found herself struggling to focus on her customers as much as she preferred. By the time she clocked out, she was simply ready to crash on the couch with some popcorn and a book. As she stepped out of the employee entrance to the concrete jungle of a parking garage, Nikki flagged her down.  

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“Rana! Rana!” Nikki rolled down the window of her bright red car.

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Rana smiled in admiration, “You drive a C8?”

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“A what?”

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“A Corvette C8? It’s the one with the mid-engine, right?” Rana craned her neck over the curve of fender above the air intake confirming her suspicions. 

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“What? I don’t know,” Nikki responded impatiently. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, daddy is having a dinner party ball thingy this weekend–well Saturday night. He insists I come to them and it’s mind-numbing on a whole ‘nother level. Anyway, wanna come? We can go shopping later this week and get you an evening gown if you want. My treat?”

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Rana paused in thought, casting her gaze upward, “Well, I’m off Saturday, but I have classes and work tomorrow and Friday. I don’t know…”

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“Oh c’mon, you’d really be doing me a favor and you can bring a plus one,” her voice went up in a cutesy tone.

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Rana grinned at Nikki’s unabashed antics and nodded her assent. “Alright, you talked me into it. Any excuse to get a new dress, right?” 

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“You read my mind! See ya tomorrow.” She gunned the engine and, squealing the tires ever so slightly, raced off. 

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Rana chuckled to herself while the rumble of that vee eight faded to a purr and was gone. In the ensuing quiet, her mind drifted to Derek, wondering vaguely if he was free that weekend. She shrugged and decided to ask him at class in the morning. 

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Turning toward the shadows where her Jetta slumbered, she felt a chill as though walking through an air conditioning duct. Immediately she glanced around. The garage was empty save a silver Escalade in an opposite corner. She was sure she could just make out a figure in the driver’s seat. The unease that filled her was one she had not felt in a long time… She ducked her head keeping an eye on the Escalade as she angled toward her car. The monstrous SUV remained in its place. 

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As the disquietude faded, the drive home was forgettable. She opened her homework, then shut it after several minutes of fruitless attempts to read and take notes. The novel lying half-read on her couch didn’t draw her like she thought it should. She read a single page three times and finally closed it, unable to recall anything on it. Sighing deeply, her eyes fluttered closed. In the silence of that moment she heard footsteps on the doorpost. She straightened from the iron pot and turned to see his boots…no, shoes with a buckle…sandals… Her eyes popped open. The image evaporated. 

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She gasped as though she’d been drowning, but it morphed into a sob. Try as she might to recall the vision, it seemed to slide tantalizing through her unwieldy mind before vanishing. In its stead it left a vast, bone-deep longing that made her physically ache. And, although she could identify no true cause, her body shuddered silent, wracking sobs until sleep mercifully granted respite.

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