Moving Up in the World

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 7

Sunday morning, the day before.

Steven sat upon the edge of the bathtub in his room, staring at the fish in the container shoved in between his legs and the edge of the toilet. It had been two long days of keeping the Atlantic Wolf Fish in captivity, a small and restrictive one at that. He had shared with it some of his cold-cuts from his fridge, but as the food was also meant for himself, he had to supplement it with slices of bread from the hotel’s complimentary breakfast.

The days had seemed to tame the fierce ocean beast, but Steven knew that the fish was rather just bored, distressed, or both. He had though to move it to the tub, but the combination of the thing’s teeth and the shallower water of the basin seemed like a bad idea. To keep the fish well until his mentor arrived, however, he would have to think of something.

Finally coming up with a proper, yet risky plan, Steven dressed up in his fine wear and headed down to the lobby. Mr. Wash was already at the front desk, a seemingly rare sight. Steven placed himself just before the counter, putting his palms down on the wooden surface in a show of determination.

“Oh, Mr. Narrows.” Obidiah spoke up, looking up from his ledger. “To what do I owe the honor? How are your studies treating you?”

Steven paused, taken aback. “Oh, well, they’re just fine. Great. Oh well, actually, no. I’m quite busy actually. A lot of tapping away at the typewriter, you know.”

This boy is one of our country’s educated elite? Oh dear, how will the future look?

“Is that so?” The owner stared and nodded.

“Uh, well, that is the reason I’ve come down today.”

“Yes?”

Steven took a deep breath. “Well, as the situation goes, my masters’ stipend check arrived this past Friday-” he lied, “and, well, I saw the pound signs, and I figured I could splurge… just a tiny bit.”

“The hotel would be happy to accommodate you, Mr. Narrows, within reason.” Obidiah said, pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, well, it’s nothing extravagant. I was simply wondering if there were any rooms available with a large soaking tub, you know, so as to be able to relax after a long day down at the port.”

Obidiah smiled and turned back to the wall of cubbies, reaching up to the top row for a singular item in the middlemost one. “You are in luck. The Sunshine suite in 411 upon one the top floor has a newly renovated jacuzzi tub, complete with nine jets to massage the sorest of muscles.” The owner planted the key down on the counter with a clang. “I will advise you, it will add another five-hundred to your monthly bill. Well, I’ll knock it down to three-fifty for you.”

You know no one else would pay for that room.

Steven bit his lip, remembering the void in his wallet. “Well, what’s money good for if you don’t have your health?”

Continue reading “Moving Up in the World”

Getting Around

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 6

Monday Morning

Joel sat on the edge of his bed, waiting on the call. The handset began to ring, and he snatched it up. “This is room 315.”

“Joel?” The expected voice spoke to him.

“Yeah, Henry, it’s me.”

“Any luck?”

Joel stood up and looked out the window, down to the sheer cliff and water below. “Well, not much more. Had some bad fare here, and spent the night chucking it up.”

“Oh-” Henry responded with a slight disgust. “Should I call out the board of health, next?”

Joel shook his head. “No, it’s probably just my stomach.”

“Well… There’s a shop about a half mile from the hotel. Pick up some things there you can cook in your room. Can’t have you out of commission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I guess just keep up the work, then. Oh, and don’t interact too much with the manager. I don’t want him catching on.”

Joel nodded and stood before the cradle of the phone. “Will do. I’m going to give it a good look around today.”

“Good on ‘ya. Tomorrow, same time, then?”

“Yes. Good day, Henry.”

Joel had dressed himself in light clothing for the day. He made his way down to the lobby and to the dining room, where breakfast was being served. Just as he had hoped, Marianne and the little girl were absent. In fact, the only person other than Joel himself was a young studious type, stacking just about a half loaf of sliced bread upon a paper plate. The bespectacled man glanced at Joel before running back to the lobby, balancing the fare against his chest.

Joel served himself a mug of coffee and stepped out the side door to the veranda and into the early daylight. Just over the hedge to the south side of the building was a view of the ocean, far out below. Among the pine trees was a short, sloping paved road, turning off from the hotel’s circular drive. It led down to the side of the building, and was marked with a wooden painted sign labeled ‘Washwater- Delivery Only. Max 2 Tonnes.’ The hum of a small lorry came up from the main road and turned down the path backward, inching toward the unloading area below.

Brian waived from the rolling door as the box truck carefully backed down toward him. The driver watched with an arm hung out the window as he approached the building. Joel glanced down at the new cook, a vaguely familiar face, who caught sight of him just the same. With a singular distracted waive, Brian focused back on guiding the truck into its place.

Continue reading “Getting Around”

Big Fish

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 5

Friday, the week before.

Steven Narrows had been staying in the Washwater since the beginning of the summer. Every other day, he would ride his bike the two miles up the road to the port, where the nearby river flowed into the ocean. His mornings were spent talking to the fishermen and inspecting their catches for the day- mostly Cod and Bass from the Channel.

“Hello again, Mr. Narrows.” The scruffy man called out from behind his row of iceboxs.

“Goodday, Sam.” Steven adjusted his glasses before taking up a mostly stiff cod up in his grasp, the tape measure wrapped around his thumbs.

“Big one, ain’t he?”

“Actually sir, it’s a ‘she’.” Steven corrected. “If you look at the dorsal tail here-”

“I get it, boy, I’ve been catching them up for many a year now.” The fishermen grimaced and turned his attention to the loud customers at the other side of the stall.

Steven frowned and took a second measurement around the fish’s belly before putting it back among the others waiting to be sold. He wiped the cold scales from his hands on his pants before taking up the notebook from the bag at his side to take down the measurements. “Smaller and smaller.” He remarked.

The purpose of his records was to fill out data for his master’s thesis, entitled ‘Eroding Shorelines and the Cod who Cannot: Are Coastal Habitats of our Native Fish Changing?’ The data, so far, told of consistently smaller fish, while the news from the fishermen was that customers were simply getting less bang for their buck. It had been several sea-stink filled months that Steven had considered changing the topic of his thesis, or to simply change his degree to something more mammalian.

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The Dining Room

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 4

Sunday Evening

Joel had unpacked his things about the room, strategically putting away his binoculars, camera, and surveying equipment in the back of the closet, hidden away behind his hanging clothes. He glanced at the hands of the clock near the bed, reading 5:20. He sighed and went to the window to garner one last look out at the ocean and the cliff-side below before closing the curtains.

From the single drawer of the dresser he had managed to fill out, Joel retrieved one of his tshirts and tossed it on the bed before pulling off his button-up. With the fresh shirt on, he snatched up his key and went out to the hall, double checking the handle after he locked up. The walk across the third floor hallway and down the stairs was deserted, but across the lobby, he could hear the faint sound of plates clinking and people chatting over dinner.

The dining room gave him the same uneasy feeling as when he arrived. There were two parties of diners already at the tables, munching on bread and butter. At one far corner was an older man with silver hair, back to the room and a newspaper in his grasp. Closer to the center of the room was a woman and a young girl, their fine wavy brunette hair seeming to be one in the same.

The little Anna tugged on the woman’s sleeve, pulling her up from her eyes locked to the notepad on the table. “Maman, it’s that man we saw earlier.”

Marianne glanced up at Joel, who had just arrived in the entrance. Her eyes perked up, and she waived to him. “Over here! Yes, you.” She caught Joel’s attention. “Come, sit with us.”

Joel glanced around, hoping to see a host, before allowing himself to move to the table with the two ladies, adjusting the hem of his shirt around his waist.

“No need to be shy.” The woman said with a slight accent as she stood and pulled out a chair for Joel. “Oh, I hope we are not pulling you away from a meeting with another someone else?”

“Uh, well, no.” Joel smiled indirectly and took the invitation. Marianne retook her seat and sent a wide smile across the table.

“Good day!” Anna chimed in, jumping forward on her seat. The little serving plate before her was already covered in crumbs, and on her lap was a small stuffed rabbit that had already seemed to have joined in on the bounty of bread.

“Hello-” Joel smiled at the little girl. “Uh, the honor is mine, Mrs…?”

“Not Missus.” Marianne shook her finger. “Just call me Marianne. And this is Anna. We saw you checking into your room earlier. We’re just down the hall- three oh nine.”

“Ah-” Joel remarked. “Well, thank you for the welcome. I’m Joel.”

A uniformed waitress appeared at the side of the table suddenly, interrupting the introductions. “Ah, Marianne. You should have told me that you were expecting a guest.” The slightly chubby teenager smiled at Joel as she presented the bottle of wine forward to the table.

Marianne smirked up at the waitress. “Oh, thank you, Heather. To be honest, I didn’t know I would be expecting one either. Could you be a dear and get us another glass?”

Heather looked back to Horatio, who came forward, a shiny wine glass in each hand. “Hori, one more for Mr. Yannison, please.”

Horatio grunted and placed the matching glassed up on the top of the table before waddling back off in the direction of the kitchen. Heather propped the bottle of crimson liquid on the edge of the table between Marianne and Joel.

Continue reading “The Dining Room”

A Tall Order

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 3

Saturday, the Previous Day

Brian walked through the doors of the Washwater just past two o’clock. He adjusted the bill of his baseball cap over his eyes and looked back and forth for any guests about. The sole person near the front desk was a short, dark figure in what looked to be the hotel’s uniform, on his knees and scrubbing the dark trim at the base of the fixture. Brian peered over the desk before leaning down to the worker. “Excuse me?” He asked, deepening his voice into a reassuring tone.

Horatio jerked up upon his knees, then to his feet, holding his hands at his either side. He stared up at Brian, his wide eyes not seeming to process a further thought.

“Uh…” Brian stood back up and rubbed at his light colored stubble. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you. Is the owner here? Or perhaps your manager?”

Horatio’s eyes finally lit up and he ducked around the corner, shunting his way back through the swinging gate separating the front of the lobby and the back office. He disappeared for a few moments, later returning with Mr. Wash.

Obidiah treaded out calmly while the short fellow tugged on his sleeve, jutting out a finger at Brian as he made eye contact once again. The bald manager brushed off Horatio’s hand and presented himself properly behind the counter. “Good day to you, welcome to the Washwater. Are you here to check in?”

Brian shook his head and marched forward to the desk, fiddling with the contents of his front pocket. From his jeans, he took out the rolled-up flier. “Actually, I’m here about the job position. The live-in cook? I saw this by the chamber of commerce’s board.”

“Ah yes.”

“Is it still available?”

Obidiah clapped his hands together. “Why, yes. It’s been up for a quite a while actually.”

Look at that baby face. Cute and contemptible. He’s trying to play adult by keeping all that fuzz on his cheeks.

Obidiah looked Brian over. “I’m surprised someone as young as yourself would be interested in working in the culinary world. It can put on the years quick, I’ve heard.”

Brian tilted the brim of his hat down to hide his smile. He noticed Horatio staring at him with shiny, fixed eyes from over the gate at the side of the counter. “Uh, well.” He said, attempting to force out a fake drawl. “My pops says a kitchen is honest work.”

Obidiah pushed Horatio to the side and walked out from behind the counter. “No harm in that way of thinking. Come, I can show you the kitchen to see if this sort of place will suit you. Oh, I haven’t asked your name yet. You may address me as Obidiah, or Mr. Wash if you’d like.”

The hopeful cook perked up. “Oh, Brian. Brian… Gates. Brian Gates. Thank you, Mr. Wash.”

Continue reading “A Tall Order”