The Klone and I: A High-Tech Love Story - By Danielle Steel Page 0,59
bought a silver suit with Christmas balls hanging all over the jacket, and the trousers were covered with tiny colored lights. He thought it incredibly festive, and the hostess at the first party we went to thought it was an enchanting joke. Little did she know he meant it, and felt he had made the fashion statement of the season.
He devoured all the hors d'oeuvres, gobbled up all the caviar, and when they ran out, he put their tropical fish in his drink and swallowed them too. I don't think anyone noticed, but I did, and we left before he could get seriously out of hand or upset the hostess more than he already had.
The second party we went to was given by old friends of mine who had met Peter. They sang Christmas carols, had a fabulous buffet, and insisted on playing charades after dinner in the living room. I did Gone With the Wind, and no one guessed it, which must have sparked something for Paul. Because he chose a single word, a “short one,” he gestured, and it only took me a few seconds to realize that the word he was acting out was fart. You can imagine what he did to get the point across. We left the party a little early that night, but in spite of my apologies, the host and hostess assured me that Paul had been a huge hit, particularly with their kids. They said he seemed a lot more “outgoing” than the first time they'd met him, and was a true free spirit, and keeping a close eye on him, I agreed with them all the way out. But I was furious with him for his outrageous behavior, and I said so in no uncertain terms after we'd left their apartment.
“That was a bit much, didn't you think?” I scolded him in the cab on the way home. I was not amused.
“What? The Christmas carols? No, I thought it was nice.”
“I mean what you did when you played charades. They were doing movies, Paul. I have never seen a movie called Fart.”
“Don't be so uptight, Steph. They loved it. Everyone laughed. It was so easy, I couldn't resist. It was their fault anyway. They shouldn't have served beans on the buffet. There's nothing Christmasy about beans,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No one forced you to eat them. You embarrassed me.” But as soon as I said it, he looked devastated.
“Are you mad at me, Steph?” But just looking at him in his Christmas ball suit, with the pants all lit up, I shook my head. How could I be? He was so lovable and so silly.
“I guess not, but I should be.” The worst of it was that as irritating as he could be, I knew I would miss him as soon as he left. And that day was coming soon. We only had a few days left. There was something about him that always hooked me, and I knew it wasn't his wardrobe, or even the double flip. There was something so basically decent about him, so innocent and so loving. He was agonizingly hard to resist. And I couldn't.
“I love you, Steph,” he said, snuggling close to me in the cab. “I wish I could spend Christmas with you.” I wanted to tell him I did not, but it wouldn't have been true. There were times when I wanted him to stay forever, with his crazy clothes and his outrageous behavior. He wasn't easy to take to parties, and yet when we were alone, we were always so happy.
He felt so remorseful about upsetting me that night that he suggested we stop at Elaine's for a drink. It had always been one of my favorite places with Roger, and I hadn't been there since he left me, but the idea appealed to me, and after hesitating for a minute, I agreed to go with him.
The cab dropped us off on the corner, and he put his arm around me, as we walked toward Elaine's. There was a huge, festive crowd at the bar as usual, and Paul ordered a double bourbon straight up and a glass of white wine for me. I didn't really want it, but it felt good to be there, and in spite of the ridiculous suit he was wearing, I was happy to be with him. And the crowd at Elaine's was eccentric enough that I figured he could get by there without attracting too much attention.