The Art of the Heart

Here We Go....

A blanket of humid, fuggy heat descended on Lindsey as soon as he pushed through the double doors. The cavernous space was dimly lit and his persistent double vision made it difficult to discern any meaningful shapes but the heat and smell gave away the location immediately: Stevie had had him brought to the hotel's indoor pool.

In spite of his current mood, which was a roller-coaster of conflicting dejectedness and determination to see off the competition, he was immediately soothed by the setting. He had spent so much time in pools over the years that he always found this particular context a calming one. The fact that so much about them remained the same whether in Toronto, Tokyo or Timbuktu meant that he felt a consoling sense of familiarity whenever he approached a swimming pool, whether he'd visited it before or not.

Pausing in the hope that his eyes just needed a little more time to adjust to the (oddly) low light, he bent forward and, resting his hands on his knees, took a deep breath which he very slowly exhaled. As he straightened up and looked once more to the middle of the huge room, he noticed Stevie and froze as if he'd seen an apparition. She was sitting cross-legged on a large bed which, from his vantage point, appeared to be suspended ethereally above the swimming pool.

Brow creased in concentration, he made a bee-line for her. As he reached the edge of the swimming pool he saw that fully two thirds of it was covered with some sort of very thick and extensive clear perspex planking, effectively creating a large floor over the top of the pool. It was on this floor that the bed sat.

Gingerly, he stepped out onto the perspex, then, satisfied that he wasn't about to plunge feet-first into the pool, he made his way over to Stevie, who seemed not to have noticed him, though she was turned only ninety degrees from square-on to him. As he got closer he could see that she was wearing earbuds and mouthing the words to something, though she made no actual sound. She was also surrounded by several neat little stacks of books. There was a table next to the bed and on it sat a large glass tray filled with candles of different sizes, casting a soft hazy glow around the immediate area. Next to the glass tray was a metal one with a bottle of Hennessy, three cans of Coke and a pitcher of water plus two highball glasses. The most striking feature of the table top was a plain glass vase with a huge spray of white Phaelenopsis orchids projecting upwards from it.

He was just trying to work up the courage to call her name when Stevie noticed him. She flinched, appearing to him to be slightly alarmed by his presence, but quickly recovered herself and smiled. She took out the earbuds, cleared her throat and stretched her right arm out, beckoning him forward.

As he tried to will his legs back into action she stood up and began to sing in a beautiful, delicately seductive tone, moving infinitesimally closer to him with each line:

You're a red string tied to my finger
A little love letter I carry with me
You're sunlight
Smoke rings and cigarettes
Outlines and kisses from silver screens

He closed his eyes and allowed the feeling of happiness and elation that was building in his chest to take over his whole body.

Oh dear, never saw you comin'
Oh my, look what you have done
You're my favorite song
Always on the tip of my tongue

Opening his eyes again he beamed at Stevie, now only a couple of feet away from him. She smiled back, then looked coyly at his feet before seeking eye contact once more as she began the next verse.