."...New York...a wonderful town..the people ride in a hole in the ground ..."
-6-
"Housekeeping!"
Ruth, already up, pads to the exit door in her room. "One minute." She calls out. She fumbles at the door, rarely used by its guests other than as an auxiliary door for an emergency.
"Housekeeping!"
"Just a minute." Ruth says, this time louder. Finally, she gets the door open. There is no one there. Sticking her head out more, she sees on her left the chambermaid with cart and cleaning supplies standing in front of Harry's room and main door just a few feet away.
"Hello?" Ruth calls out. The maid turns her head towards her.
"Housekeeping?" The maid says now moving a bit towards Ruth.
"Um… Would you please come back later? We've only just—"
The other door opens. Harry, his wispy hair standing all around his head, turns his head to the right. And to Ruth.
Their eyes connect. "Oh." They say simultaneously. Rubbing his unshaven chin, he takes her in taking him in. Then he glances down at his state of dishabille: his rumpled shirt is pulled out of his trousers with one leg pushed up a bit, exposing his pale skin above a black sock. The other foot is bare. Looking back up at her, he shrugs sheepishly.
Then he sweeps his eyes over her outfit: fleecy sky blue pajamas, her breasts beneath the top, rounded and unencumbered by a bra. She steps back just a bit, blushing ever so slightly.
"Housekeeping?" The chambermaid says again, her head swiveling back and forth between the two.
Their heads snap back to the maid. "Oh, Right. Would you please-?"
"-Perhaps a bit later?"
The chambermaid's head continues to pivot from one to the other. Finally she nods. "OK. Later." Then sets off down the hall with her cart and utensils. And a knowing smile on her face.
"Well." Harry says, still holding the door open with one foot.
"Well," she says, hand on her open door as well.
"How did you sle—"
"Did you sle—"
"Right." They both say, nodding as well.
Neither speak for a moment.
"You hungry, Ruth?" He finally asks.
She nods readily. "Yes. Actually, they've set up a buffet for us."
"The kids." Harry says. He smiles crookedly, rubbing his chin again.
She nods. "I can be—"
"Just give me few—"
They stop. Again.
Finally, she says, "I won't be long."
"Neither will I," he says.
Then they nod. One door closes. Then the other.
Breakfast is surprisingly good. The coffee is hot and there's plenty of food. "The kids," as Harry insists on calling their hosts, appear to spare no expense for their international cohorts. Sitting across from Ruth, Harry holds up a piece of bacon from his plate.
"Streaky," Ruth says.
He nods. "Good though." He takes a bite as Ruth goes on. "But you know, if you want our bacon, just remember to ask for ham."
He nods. "I know," he says, speaking around the crispy bacon. A little piece sticks to the corner of his mouth.
As Harry begins to discourse on the differences between their bacon, breakfast and choice of beverages on either side of the pond, Ruth's eyes fix upon the little bit of bacon still wedged next to his lips. For an instant, her hand rises on its own accord. She takes note of it just in time, dropping it upon her lap, holding it fast with her other hand for good measure, "And," he goes on, " Have you noticed that their.. Something wrong, Ruth?" He asks, culinary commentary interrupted.
She raises her brow. Then ever so discreetly, she touches her own corner of her mouth.
His brow raises as well.
"Bacon, she whispers, leaning in just a bit.
"Ah. " He says. And brushes at his face.
"Other side," she says, still whispering.
He tries again. But the bit of bacon eludes him.
Finally, she reaches over and with the lightest of touches, brushes it off. Her hand touches his lips inadvertently.
She pulls back her hand, the feel of his lips indelibly imprinted upon her hand.
He smiles across at her.
She looks down, adjusting the napkin on her lap.
"Well," He says after a moment, and patting his rounded stomach, "not exactly a Full English Breakfast, but it'll do." His recently expanded middle adds credence to his words.
Her nocturnal image of him in undershirt and rounded belly skips unbidden across her mind. She picks up her tea and takes a sip, not looking at him.
"Is that all you're going to eat?" He says into the silence.
She nods. "Tea, toast, and fruit are more than enough. I do have," she adds at his look of disapproval, "a dress to fit into, you know." Then she smiles and fiddles with her napkin again.
"What kind is it?"
She jerks her head up. "Sorry?"
"Your dress." He says, stirring his coffee, now cold. Around. And around.
"Erm... Formal. Of course." She says taking another sip of her sip of tea, now tepid. "I thought that I would take in some sights." Ruth says suddenly, setting her cup down. "Since we have a whole day before the ball, that is."
He nods. " Of course. I, unfortunately, have a conference." He sighs. "Within the hour, actually. "
She nods. "I know."
"Well, you can go, Ruth. Of course. You should go."
She sits there." Right."
She takes another sip. He begins to stir his coffee again.
"Would- "
"Would-
They stop.
"Can you ice skate, Harry?"
He drops his spoon. And it clangs against the side. "Ice skate?"
She nods. "I thought I'd go to the NY Public Library."
"They have a rink in their library?" He stares at her incredulously.
She laughs outright. "Hardly." She says. "It's a wonderful library. With books, Real books. Some even read there. In their library."
He smiles benignly at her.
"It's next to the park. Bryant Park. Where one can skate there. And shop. And it's not far from Herald Square. And Macy's." Her eyes light up.
"Shopping, " he says and his face drops a bit.
She shakes her head. " Window shopping." She begins to speak rapidly. "The windows are are all dressed up. You know, for the holiday. And then we can.." She stops. "I mean..."
"I'll meet you at 11:00." He smiles broadly.
Her smile matches his.