Finally, and of course, the lotion would be in the refrigerator, where I’ve been finding all kinds of weird things lately. I need to pay attention more. I hope I don’t have a brain tumor. That would suck.
I lock my door and leave for the hospital, with the lotion in hand, determined not to lose it a second time.
I should be the one to tell Bette later when I drop off Angelica. Absolutely, she should hear about Dana’s turn for the worse from me. I squeeze a nickel-sized dollop of lotion into my palm as I drive. The scent is so lovely, lavender, citrus and bergamot with just the perfect hint of that last earthy note. The fragrance takes me back as I drive slowly through the traffic toward Cedar Sinai and Dana.
I remember my evening with Afanen and Cerridwyn, who insisted they take us out after Bette had single-handedly funded their curative visit and pilgrimage. The women perfumed the air around them as they walked. Bette and I had brought a bottle of Scotch back up to our hotel room after dinner, and had cracked ourselves up trying to describe them – with our very bad and drunk Welsh accents – ‘They had exuded raspberries and tulips with a bite of musk.’ That one was mine. I was obsessed with the word, ‘exuded’ that night, and Bette could not stop laughing at me.
I had lured her to the British Isles by a promise that before we left for my ancestral discoveries in Wales, she could spend two days at the Tate, and any other museums she wanted to while in London My grandmother, whose long bloodlines were Welsh, had told me stories about fantastic medieval castles, and ancient battles filled with romantic lore. With a hangover that was gone by noon, Bette and I had headed off to Harlech Castle.
When her intense personality dials her toward her best side, she is amazingly thoughtful and romantic. Soon, her surprise for me became apparent, after our long castle tour had ended — replaced by her great embrace of vacation sex. And I had wondered why she’d booked this huge Range Rover at Heathrow?