Stories of yesterday
The Hotel
I’ve not been out of the house in a long time. Working from home for nearly 6 years while caring for children has put a damper on my social skills. Finally, I get a chance to go on a business trip. A small weekend break; away from the kids, house, dogs… Although a break it was not. I was moving since the plane landed, meeting people, making calls, all working with no interruptions! A bit of an escape from the norm for me, it’s not ideal but it’ll do for now.
The workday passed, and the stress never let up. I was confused most of the day. Everyone that comes into the office daily, in a rhythm. Meanwhile, I’m wondering who’s going to be vacuuming my floors at home if I’m not there.
Eventually, the day ends. I attempt to walk normally as if the pain from wearing heels was not affecting me whatsoever. Sitting in the taxi awaiting my journey to the hotel, I untucked my shirt and throw up my hair. Enough is enough. Why do I try to look decent and try to fit in when I’m absolutely miserable?
As the taxi pulls up to the grand, towering hotel, I get a feeling that I’ve been to this place before. I grab my things and head to the check-in, get my room key, and head to the 8th floor.
The lobby was large, and each level had a view of it. The railings on each floor ticking their way up as you tilt your head upward. Each floor had a lounge which, thankfully for me, was near my room. Of which, my key was not working. I didn’t want to have to go back down to the lobby right now; I sat on the couch and popped off those dreaded heels I had decided to wear.
I sat on the couch with my elbows on my knees, inspecting the damage to my inexperienced heel-wearing feet. I sighed as I started thinking about my two boys at home, without their Mother home, without their Father home, but hopefully having a good time with their Grandma.
Home life hasn’t been easy as of late. I keep hoping for the best, for a quick fix. I wanted to stop thinking about the bad, think about the good, but the bad kept going and going in my mind — how this won’t turn out good. It just won’t.
Soft footsteps silenced the thoughts inside my head. As the sound came closer, I felt someone have a seat next to me. I hear clinking objects being sat on the coffee table in front of me. I looked straight at it. Two glasses and a bottle of vodka. No need to look to see who was sitting next to me. I already knew. There are no formalities due when you’ve got this connection. After all, we’ve known each other for almost 95 years, maybe more. I nearly leapt for the vodka shouting “OH THANK GOD!”
“I knew you’d like that about now.” The man next to me said. He poured the vodka into the glasses and slid one over to me. My mind was blank, I felt relief… finally. The man and I both leaned back on the couch, propped our feet up, and crossed them onto the table. It was quiet as we sipped the alcohol.
He finally spoke up — “you remember Marie, don’t you?… of course, you do, how could you not?”
“I remember enough, some I’d rather not,” I responded.
He looked down and shook his head. “It was a terrible thing… but we can’t change it. I hope to God this doesn’t end the same, but you remember now… we’ve been here before.”
I looked at him again - I do remember what happened. It was years before I was born, but I was there. It wasn’t this body, but I was there. I remember it as if it all happened in this life. He knew how I felt because he felt the exact same. We lifted our glasses, as if acknowledging the situation, and drank.
As the vodka touched my lips — I hear a panicked voice say “Robert, you’ve got to get up!” and then it as if I was slammed in the chest with an anvil. Those combined made me shoot straight up. I sat up in bed, eyes wide, confused, sweating, gasping for a breath. “Look at the clock, look at the clock!” I reminded myself. I quickly glanced around the room, and there on the nightstand was the old clock I’ve had for years. It snaps me out of dreams like these, I’m not sure why. I got on with my normal day, working from home, cleaning the house, and caring for my two boys.
“To long a sacrifice can make a stone of a heart.” -W. B. Yeats
Take the time to listen to yourself, and if yourself brings some liquor to share… enjoy it.
