She opened the door of her cab after she paid the cabdriver. She took her bag from next to her and moved her feet out of the car. Walking over to the entrance of the hotel, she looked over her shoulder at the taxi that drove away. She had been crying the whole way from where the taxi had picked her up to where she was now. She didn't want to know what she looked like at this moment: probably horrible: black smudges all over her face, red eyes, red nose. Blue lips because she had to wait a very long time before the taxi arrived. She was still cold. The cab driver had asked her what was wrong, but she hadn't told him: it was all a little too personal to tell a stranger. The swing doors opened and she walked into the hotel.
"How can I help you?"
She swallowed and faced the young man, sitting at the desk. "I... I want to..."
She felt tears rising in her eyes again, thinking of the reason that she had come here. When was the last time she had slept in a hotel room for a reason similar to this? Must have been a very long time ago. She swallowed and searched for a tissue in her pocket. She took the plastic out of her bag and saw that it was the last one. She wiped her eyes and the rest of her face and put the tissue in the litter.
"Madam, are you alright?"
She managed to gave the man a weak smile. "Yes... no... ehm. I just want to get a hotel room." She didn't want to go through the whole story again.
"And what kind of room do you wish? We have luxurious rooms, with views of the lake."
She shrugged, she didn't care what place her bed would be. All that mattered was that she had a bed to sleep in. "Doesn't matter."
"And... are you here alone?"
She nodded, then she thought of her daughter: Lindsey was coming, soon she would come over. "No, my daughter is coming soon. She'll stay with me."
The man at the desk nodded. "How long are you planning to stay here, at the Bellagio?"
"I don't know. Look..." She bend foreward and placed her hands on the desk. Now she really felt like she had to explain what happened. "My... the man I was going to marry and... I have... we broke up and... I have no place to stay. That's why I am here. So, honestly, I don't know how long I need to stay here. Got it?"
The deskman nodded and looked up from the screen. "I have a Deluxe Room free for you. On the 14th floor. 510 square feet, two Queens beds, flatscreen television. For more info you can check-"
"Yeah, that's fine. I'll take it."
Some time later, Catherine was alone again in her hotelroom. She was standing in the bathroom after she had dropped her bags in the closet. She desperately could use a shower, a very hot one, and fortunally the bathroom was blessed with one. She didn't even care to lock the door. She looked into the mirror, hanging above the sink. She shook her head. She had been right: she looked horrible.
The blue Irises she had looked even more blue through the redness in her eyes. All the mascara she had been wearing was blotted around her eyes, and even on her cheeks she found some black smudges. Her face was both red and white at the same time. She sighed.
"If you don't want to scare people, disappear into that shower right away."
Her reflection nodded in agreement and she started to undress herself. Looking at her reflection, she glared at the woman in the mirror. Apart from all the things she wanted to scream to her, she just turned around and closed the sliding doors. She let the hot waterdrops heat her skin.
When she had redressed herself, and looked decent on her own standards, she went downstairs again. She wanted to forget about all of this, and she prefered it to be as soon as possible. Maybe a little alcohol will help me to fall asleep tonight. She walked through the corridors and entered a bar that looked nice. Some people were dancing the night away, others were standing in corners, laughing and hugging. It was clear that almost everyone there was having fun.
Why can't I?
She shrugged her anger away and took a seat at the bar, next to a couple, barely in their twenties, kissing like their life only existed when their tongues were connected. Catherine made eyecontact with the woman behind the bar. The blonde raised her voice; the music made it impossible to understand each other without more decibels, but soft enough that they were still able to talk. The barmaid was putting the glasses back in the cupboard, gestured that she was coming over to her right after she finished her job. Some seconds later, she bend over and gave Catherine her ear.
"Vodka. I want to forget some things."
The barmaid smiled to her like she had made a joke. She poured liquid in a clear glass and gave it to her. "Bad day?", she asked while putting the glass on the bar. Catherine smiled out of politeness, she certainly was not going to tell her about her problems.
She took the glass in her hand and turned around lifting it, she cheered to the rest of the crowd.
"To all women in the world. May you not go through the same as I am going through right now!"
Some people pretended that they hadn't heard her, others just shrugged and continued doing what they were doing. She put the glass to her lips and swallowed a huge pull of the clear liquid. The burning aftertaste of the alcohol made her close her eyes, but she continued drinking: she knew that this would help her through the night. She turned the glass around by her wrist so that the vodka was waving around like in a minitornado and took a pull again and emptied the glass in one draught.
She set the glass on the bar, looking at the barmaid, gesturing for another one. She took her glass, put it on the sink and poured another one full, handling it over to her. She looked at her glass and sipped her glass again: she promised herself to be more gentle this time. She began to feel the alcohol take effect in her body; her head felt light and so did her mood. It worked. Of course it worked, it always worked. She looked to her left and felt the urge to dance. She liked the feeling it gave her, using her body, thinking of nothing else than where to place your feet, how to move your hands.
And she was pretty good, and fully aware of the fact that she was.
Maybe I can catch a guy tonight who can let me forget him.
She nodded, quickly finished drinking all the vodka in her glass and put the glass on the bar again. She put her feet on the ground and felt the vibrations of the music. She didn't know the song, but the melody felt nice. There was a heavy beat. She tried to listen to the music.
Now that you've left me, there's no returning.
I keep comparing, you're always winning.
She sighed, froze a little. Why did every song that reached her ears appeal to her all the sudden? She shrugged away the feeling and kept dancing. She was happy that she wore her nice outfit at the moment and that she had showered. She looked nice and she knew it.
Some songs later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a man standing in front of her. He was holding two glasses of... she couldn't see what drink it was. "Hey babe, wanna drink?"
She was still sober enough to know that he was not, but still; a cute guy, in his late-thirties offering her a drink: she felt flattered. She smiled and turned her mouth to his ear. "What is it?"
"Cocktail. I thought you would be a cocktail girl..."
"Thank you..."
She took it and smelled the liquid. It smelled so sweet, it almost made her vomit. But she smiled anyway, she was grateful that someone would keep her attention away. She sipped at her glass and it became clear to her that she was definitely no cocktail girl, she was at least not to keen on thisone. Drink it, empty it. The earlier you are finished, the earlier you can start at your new glass of... vodka...? She closed her eyes and draught it empty. The guy was standing there, eyes widened. She giggled. "Just thirsty..."
She knew that this was not going to work. "Hey... I must go to my room, sorry..." He nodded, but still seemed a little dazed. She walked to the bar again, then hezitated. Maybe another drink is not a very good idea. She walked out of the bar, but before she left the bar, she remembered that she should say that she stayed in the hotel.
After she had remembered it, she made her way to her hotel room. She slipped her hand in her pocket and looked at her key. Luckily, the number of her room was written on it, so she could find it again.
She opened the door and let herself fall on her bed. Immediately, her thoughts set on Grissom again. Damn That Man. She cursed him, and wished that she would have stayed, just to forget him. Gone was all the sadness, when she thought of him right now, she just felt anger boiling inside of her. He had left her, because of Sara? Because of that stupid, drama-queen brunette? That bitch was better than herself? That was a lie and Sara had to know it.
She took the phone of the bedside table and dialed Sara's home phone number. She had asked for no phonecalls, but she was sure that she could make a call herself.
"Sidle."
Catherine closed her eyes and thought of what she should say to her. "You bitch. How dare you! Interfere with a relationship, ruining an engagement. You know what you are? You are nothing better than a whore. Yeah, you can say: that's what you were, but I was not. I didn't ruin relationships, you did. You know that I hate you forever now? And don't feel pity for me, I will be fine, I will get over it. Just know that my daughter will be so heartbroken, she expected a wedding. She wanted her mother to be happy and now she will never be anymore. You ruined it once, you broke it twice."
"Cath, where are you talking about?"
"Oh, we're playing it this way? Sweet, Innocent Sara? Come on, you know what you did, you know it damn well. You were there when you fucked him, you were there, standing in your nice, little lingerie, in his doorway, seducing him, fucking him, and fucking me at the same time. Oh, he couldn't resist you, right? What trick did you use? What satisfying position? What did you do that I didn't? Oh... I don't wanna know actually. Spare me details, I don't want to know how many times he screamed your name, I don't wanna know how many orgasms he had with you."
"I didn't-"
"You didn't fuck him? Seriously? How am I going to buy that? What did you do then? Why the hell did he leave me then? He suddenly looked at you and thought: I want her? Is that it? Why were we engaged then? Why were we going to marry? Why Sara?"
"You... you're not engaged anymore?"
"Drop. That. Happy. Tone. No we're not. And it is all because of you, and you know that. It is all your fault, you ruined it all."
Silence fell at the other part of the phoneline. Catherine felt tears slipping down her cheeks, not just tears of anger, but tears of frustration, disbelieve, and even tears of sadness. Grief, maybe.
"I... I'm sorry for you. But honestly, Catherine, I don't know... I didn't know. I haven't talked to him in... days. Seriously, I am not part of this. Please believe me, I know it's hard for you, but please, believe me that I... didn't do anything to... break you up. I gave up my hopes long ago."
Sara had no part in this? She sounded so honest, Catherine almost started to believe her. She didn't want to though, she wanted to have someone to blame. She didn't want to believe that the fault was her own.
"Just tell me... what have you got that I don't have...?" Her voice broke down in a whisper, followed by a flood of tears. She pushed the red button on the phone and silenced her cryings with her pillow.
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