The Palati Chicago deserved every single one of its 4.7 Yelp stars. From the marble-filled lobby to the the skylights in our Presidential Suite, every square foot of it was, in a word, perfect.
Waking up there, swaddled in a down comforter that must have been made of pure cotton candy, was nothing like I'd had on this trip. We'd been stopping at dingy motels and at best, a Holiday Inn or Best Western. Maybe if we'd had this type of five-star treatment there, I would've been a lot less cranky.
I rolled over in bed, a ray of sunlight filtering through the panoramic windows. It was like an HD mural, with such intricately painted details. But no, it was all real; the people bustling along Michigan Avenue, the diamonds reflecting off the crystalline lake, every little yellow taxi prattling around- they were all 100% real, and 100% beautiful.
Was I really marvelling at tiny things like this? God, how long had we been away from civilization?
"Siena! Get out of bed!" Madison cried, thrusting open the pure white double doors to my own private room. "It's time for the ceremonial throwing of Ethan's bag off the balcony!"
It's as only eight o'clock, and we'd gotten to the hotel at midnight last night. "Wait, what?" I asked. "You stole Ethan's bag?"
"I didn't steal it, per se. He left it in the trunk when we went to Aunt Eleanor's, and when we sped off without him I didn't bother to give it back. There's a lot of incriminating stuff in there." She wiggled her eyes suggestively, thinking that would get me to roll out of this heavenly bed.
"Ten more minutes," I grumbled, turning inward to face the center of the king bed. "I haven't had a good night's sleep since we left California."
"Well, do you want to see a picture of the girl Ethan was cheating on me with?"
I sat up in bed, white sheets and covers going every which way. "What!?"
"I took a peek. You won't believe it; he kept it in his wallet." She shrugged like this was no big deal. Maybe for her it wasn't. Maybe Ethan had hurt her so bad, this seemed normal.
"Seriously?"
"Well, I caught him kissing another girl at a party and really flipped out on him, and he promised he'd never do that again. That's another reason - you know, besides the obvious forcing his tongue down your throat - that I got mad at him that time at the ski place"
Ah, yes. The dramatic events of that evening at the Doubleside Ski Resort And Lodge. "So you knew he had cheating tendencies, and you still stayed with him? Wow." I stretched my legs and rolled out of bed, itching to see what was in the treasure trove of Ethan's duffel bag. "Do you think he kept in touch with her?"
I don't know, but if he did, that idiot's going to get a lot more than the cold shoulder when we get back to San Francisco." She clenched her fist, something she only did when she was really mad. "But let's explore, shall we?"
She brought his fat, navy blue bag into the room and plopped it on my bed; she was so nice, knowing that I was too lazy to get up. "Okay," I said, unzipping the bag, "what do we have here?"
"Let's make two piles," Madison instructed. "One for stuff that's not important, like his shirts, and two for things like a picture of his side chick." Her eyes lit up maliciously. "Then we'll decide what to do with the good stuff."
"Okay," I replied, digging my hands into the bag as fast as I could. I was visually impaired without my glasses, which were on the tabletop in the other part of our suite, but I could see the general shapes of most things. My hand landed on a small Ziploc bag, no more than a few inches. But I couldn't read the print on it. "Madison, what's this?"
I knew, I just couldn't believe it. Madison confirmed my fears by simply shrugging her shoulders and going, "Weed."
"I knew he was a druggie! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" I exclaimed. Madison rolled her eyes as if to say, duh, we both knew he was smoking something.
"Is it going off the balcony? We could get arrested."
"You're right," Madison pointed out. "You know, we could-"
"You go ahead. I'll sit this one out."
"You're right, you're right," she sighed. "Not a good idea to get high when you're on a solo road trip across the country. It'd be exciting, but it'd be-"
"Madison."
"I know, I know," she concluded, opening the sliding glass door to the balcony and tossing it off. "They're not gonna be able to tell which floor it came from. And whoever it lands on down there is just gonna have a really lucky day."
We rummaged around in the bag for a while longer, putting most of the stuff in the first pile. That is, until we found the side pocket. Madison dug her chipped pink nails into it and pulled out many things like she'd just struck gold. Ethan's wallet. "Hey, since we know he's a cheater and a pothead, can we go shopping on his credit card and not feel a twinge of regret?"
"Let's do it. But we have to finish the task at hand first."
Madison pulled out Ethan's wallet, which, sure enough, contained a picture of a blonde girl smiling like she was about to do something crazy, a red solo cup in her hand. In silver marker, there was a message written on the side. "ETHAN," it read, "I'll never forget that night! XOXO, Karina."
"Karina," Madison spat. "Even the name sounds like a homewrecker."
"It's okay..." I replied, not knowing how to respond. "Did you, erm, know Karina?"
"No." It didn't seem to register. Maybe after the whole dumping thing, she was immune to any feelings involving Ethan. I wish I could do that, just turn off my feelings when it was convenient. "Let's go shopping."
"Now? Why? You're okay?"
She responded, "I'm still not over him, but we've had too much sad news. I need to get my mind off something. We need to do something happy."
"Shouldn't've thrown that baggie off the balcony, then," I teased.
"Stop it!" she giggled, playfully pushing me into the soft couch. "Get dressed. I'm the heartbroken one here, so you're going to make a sacrifice and let me give you a makeover."
____________________
"Yay or nay?" Madison asked, holding up a pair of jeans so ripped they looked like bikini bottoms with a few spare threads.
"You want those for yourself!" I giggled, picking up a black tank top, the least edgy piece of clothing in the pop-up. "You're trying to make me into a mini-you. What happened bed to your signature camo jacket, anyway?"
"Remember? Ethan stained it at that diner. I just left it there. I wouldn't wear it with that huge red ball of Dragon Breath Sandwich the way down the side." She rolled her eyes, putting the jeans back on the circular rack.
"Anyway," I continued, "Let's not talk about Ethan. Let's talk about clothes. What do you think about his print?" I held up a pair of vintage-esque high-waisted shorts. "Like it, or no?"
"Ooh, those are cute," she responded. "Try those on in the dressing room."
We were at Sixteen, a cute little boutique that we found amid all the chain stores. The clothes, atmosphere, and employees (like the creepy cashier with too many tattoos) were all unique. I'd never been to a store quite like it. In the corner was a rack of sundresses, close in proximity to their supply of antique silverware. The cashier herself (himself?) told me that they put all the cute clothes by the window to lure people into their store.
But the clothes were cute. And it was certainly a fun store. How it could afford its spot on Michigan Avenue, I had no idea. Maybe it was big with the hipsters or something.
So I tried on the shorts, along with a few other items to make Madison happy. It worked; she seemed visibly brighter. As long as her mind was off Ethan, she was sunnier than the weather outside.
The only problem? Everything seemed to remind her of Ethan. Ethan used to take her shopping. Ethan loved when she'd wear that jacket because it matched his backpack. Ethan this. Ethan that. I didn't want to be the one to break it to her, but she definitely wasn't as over him as she pretended to be.
We left Sixteen and made the long trek back to the Palati; Madison said she had to "rest." I had no idea why, but I'd been walking around for a while and didn't object to her idea.
It was only when we were back in the pristine, just-cleaned-while-we-were-out hotel room, situated in our various luxurious beds, with the television on a volume that would certainly cause my mom to lecture us on how we'd lose our hearing at seventy, that Madison buried her face in the pillows and started to sob. It was then that I realized this break wasn't just to rest our legs.