On the next level down, I finally found a powder room, but it was to the right, not the left. The bathroom was as ornate as the rest of the house, but sadly did not contain the famous golden toilet. I smiled as I thought of Jo and her pee promise. The walls were covered in a dark red velvet paper. The fixtures were jet-black, glistening with little crystals in them. I twisted the sparkly black handles over the sink and splashed cold water on my face, careful to avoid my eye makeup.
As I did, I noticed the sprawling mural painted across the entire ceiling. Only a rich person would hire an artist to paint the ceiling of their bathroom. The scene was mostly dark red, like the walls, and I realized it was a painting of hell. Little angels were falling from the sky like baby birds, landing in the flames below. How very twisted.
The entire room started to throb along with my head. Maybe it was the painted fire, or maybe it was the walls, but I got crazy hot again. Being in the room felt like being inside a big, red mouth.
I fumbled with the door handle, successfully unlocked it, and practically fell into the hall. I walked back toward the staircase, but found it was no longer there. I must have taken a wrong turn. There were so many passages and closed doors, I was afraid of opening the wrong door and finding who-knows-what or, worse yet, people I did know doing who-knows-who. I kept walking, but never found another stairwell or another person. My ears started ringing, and I was afraid I might throw up. Not on the fancy carpet, I prayed.
I turned another corner and found a larger door with a round, golden bar horizontally across it. I pushed on the bar, and was relieved to taste the cool night air. I was on a patio at the ground level. I spotted the giant stone party balcony above to my right, but I had no idea how to get there, and no desire to go back inside. I plopped down on a stone bench near a fragrant flowering tree.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to text Jo. As I was typing the message, a shadow crossed over the screen. I lifted my eyes.
“Hello, Bombshell.” It was Anders. I expected him to be passed out, sloppy drunk, or making out with Elsie or some other girl by then, but he stood in front of me perfectly composed, perfectly sober, and still perfectly handsome.
I smiled and found my eyelids felt heavy, like they were dropping all the way down to the corners of my mouth. I shook my head and tried to perk up.
“Hi,” I said.
“I see you’ve found our garden.”
“Yes,” I replied. “By accident. I’m lost.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, settling down beside me. “You’re with me, and I most definitely know where we are. I grew up here, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “Isn’t it your birthday or something?”
“That’s what they tell me. Did you bring me a gift?”
I was mortified for a moment, because I hadn’t. “I thought the invitation said ‘no gifts.’”
“That’s the polite thing to write, of course, but you could have brought me something anyway.” He smiled. Why did he look so darn gorgeous? Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe I was drunk and didn’t know it. Could you get drunk without drinking alcohol?
“I am your gift,” I heard myself saying. “Aren’t I what you wished for?” Now I was giggling.
“More than I could ever wish for,” Anders said, lowering his voice and sounding even sexier than usual. He stood up, and held out his hand to me. “And now I have a gift for you.”
I took his hand and let him pull me up. It seemed like I was weighed down with concrete somehow, but he managed to get me upright anyway.
“What is it?” I asked, giggling again.
“A private tour,” he answered, leading me away from the bench. “To hell and back.”
“What do you mean?” I said. My legs felt wobbly, and I wondered if the stones we were walking on were set unevenly on purpose so damsels in distress would have an opportunity to fall into their hero’s arms. Was I finally a damsel in distress? I decided yes to the damsel, no to the distress. And to heck with Gavin. He’d left, and I needed to move on. There were plenty of other accents in the sea.
“You’re a very special girl, Maren,” Anders said. “I knew it from the moment I set eyes on you.”
I realized we were still holding hands as we walked. His hands were warm and soft. We were walking toward the hedge maze, and then into it. I wanted to explore you, hedge maze, I thought, from the moment I set eyes on you.
I spied a white ghost to my left and jumped. It was the statue of Cupid. I laughed uncontrollably. Now that I was closer, I could see his wings. Rather small, I thought, remembering Gavin’s impressive span. Anders pulled me farther into the maze, and I followed.
The air was heavy with the smell of night blossoms, and every time I stumbled against Anders, I inhaled his cologne. I wanted to bathe in it.
I don’t remember the entire maze walk, but I know it was full of surprises I found quite hilarious. We approached an adorable statue of a naked nymph. As I walked closer, he suddenly became animated and peed on me with a little fountain of water from his private parts. I realize now that motion simulators must have been hidden throughout the maze, but at the time, I couldn’t figure it out. I think I stepped back and forth in front of the peeing statue four times before Anders finally dragged me away.
“You’ve gotten yourself all wet,” he said playfully.
I laughed hysterically in response. “He peed on me!”
Anders took off his sport coat and set it across my shoulders. He took my hand again, and hurried me along the path more quickly.
“We’re almost there,” Anders said.
“Almost where?”
I heard the gurgle of running water. It got louder the deeper we went. A shrill scream pierced the shadowy silence. I practically jumped into Anders’ arms, wrapping myself around him as if I’d been frightened to death.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“Just the peacocks, darling,” he whispered back. Even his breath smelled delicious. How was that possible, when he’d been smoking cigarettes? I started to think about what it would be like to kiss him.
We emerged from the maze and found ourselves in front of a small temple with a round dome on top. The rushing water sound was coming from the building itself, and I saw there were jets of water shooting out from at least ten different spots on the front side alone. Amazingly, water even gushed from the top of the dome, sliding down the entire structure, making it glisten. Statues of half-robed women playing with the water decorated the building: they reclined against the temple sides, holding buckets; squatted at the base with elaborate catch basins on their heads; lazed across the top edge, clutching their water jugs like a lover. It was the most elaborate fountain I’d ever seen.
“Welcome to the cascade house,” Anders said.
I was speechless. I had literally lost the ability to speak. I was sure I didn’t look at all attractive with my mouth hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to close it. The water was mesmerizing. I wanted to lie down next to the women on top and go to sleep.