A Bit of a Tremble

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 2

Two months previous.

Assemblyman Hunt giddily trailed his wife up the stairs to the forth floor of the hotel. The hem of her dinner dress, stopping just above her knee, tempted him. He tickled her pale, bare thigh with the tips of his fingers as she hurried up the treads one at a time, only slightly slowed by her high heels. “Stop, stop,” She giggled, swatting back at him playfully. “Ugh, you’re going to make me fall right over, Terry.”

“Well them hurry up, then.” The Assemblyman continued to play along, caressing the back of her hand.

Sheryl eventually stopped before the door and reached her hand back. “The key- oh, give it here.” She said, wiggling her fingers.

Her husband patted the pockets of his slacks, then up to his sport coat. “Here it is!” He said with a slight slur in his voice, extracting the fine key from his inner jacket pocket. Sheryl took it up and inserted it into the lock, while the Assemblyman huddled behind her, making quick kisses up her shoulder and to her neck.

“Gosh, Terry.” She complained with a giggle and a slight shove. “What if somebody sees?”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time messing with the door, now should we?”

With a click, the door unlocked and flew open. Sheryl stumbled inside, nearly tripping over her own heels. “Whoa!” She yelped, bracing herself on the wall as she lifted a foot up to unstrap the back of her shoes and free herself from the tall wedges.

The Assemblyman shut the door after a discreet glance back out into the hall. His wife had already tossed her pair of shoes to the side and wandered to the bed sloppily. She sat at the edge of the queen mattress, crossing her legs and offering a gesture with her finger.

Continue reading “A Bit of a Tremble”

The Washwater

The Washwater Hotel: Chapter 1

Sunday

Joel stepped out of the cab and onto the scabbed edge of the sidewalk. The driver was already at the back of the vehicle with the trunk propped open, pulling out the wide suitcase. In his hand, Joel dangled the second bag, ready to drape over the long handle of the rolling case.

With a slam of the cover and a second similar sound to the forward door, the driver was back off in the opposite direction around to the exit. Joel turned back to the coastal hotel. It was stout, with a wide covered veranda upon the first floor, and above, there was an offering of three other floors from which to choose. The grass at either side of the walkway up was clinging to bits of brown, and was spotted with weeds that had recently been trimmed back to match the length of the grass.

Each of the three steps up to the front doors creaked in anticipation as Joel tread upon them. His rolling suitcase clamored up each step after him with a knock. He took mental note of this. The doors were heavy, inlaid with panes of frosted glass. The brass handles were plenty shiny, and seemed to be fairly free of recent fingerprints.

To Joel, the lobby was unsettling. It was not the fine wood trim and fixtures, nor the collection of books in the small sitting room off to the side, nor the absence of any sort of commotion from the dining area the opposite direction, despite the fact that it was just about noon and the brochure Joel had read said that the weekend lunch service was quite the tempt.

Joel planted himself before the front desk, allowing himself to leave the short stack of baggage at his side. He dinged the bell upon the counter before him, releasing a clean sound through the empty area. At his side, a quick glance revealed his rolling suitcase to be slowly drifting farther away from him, the wheels silently taking it away across the floor. He made a quick shift to the right and took the handle again, this time holding it in place.

From the back room, a quite distinguished figure appeared. With a shiny and slightly wrinkled bald head and finely trimmed beard, the tall man offered a greeting. “Welcome to The Washwater!” His deep voice seemed to echo. “Checking in, are we?”

Continue reading “The Washwater”

The Way Back Around

The Way Back Around: Chapter 10 [Final]

As expected, the confirmation number for my flight appeared on my phone some time along my drive to the airport. Between getting all my things together and dropping off the rental, I had a total of twenty minutes to check in and run to the gate. The couple of hours spent in the air allowed me to catch some shut-eye.

I lounged around the airport, nursing several successive cups of coffee, until the repair shop in Memphis opened for the day. To my surprise, it was only a short distance from the terminal. After another debit from my account, I had my own properly-sized vehicle back, albeit sufficiently dirtier than when I had left LA with it.

I set my phone’s GPS for a straight shot back to my home. The estimated time read a smooth twenty-six hours. At the last gas station before the highway, I picked up a sandwich and an energy drink, just to hold myself over.

With music blaring and the caffeine running through my veins, I made it to north Texas before my sleep-deprivation threatened to put me in a ditch. At one of the rest stops, I managed to find a few hours of sleep. The much-needed shut eye allowed me to Albuquerque, a town I had heard both so little and so much of. Granted, I learned nothing of it, as my first and only proper stop was at a no-name motel to do nothing other than sleep.

Sunday morning dawned on New Mexico, so as my phone told, reminding me that my one week of makeshift vacation would soon be up. The next twelve hours on the road would bring me back home and ready to hit the work week once again, or so I thought. After the traffic added a couple hours to the heat-drenched roads, I found myself back in the same driveway where the adventure had started. In the orange glow of the street lamps, I unlocked my door, purposefully ignoring my mailbox stuffed full.

After a much needed hot shower, I dove straight into bed, my hair still wet. Just before I closed my eyes to drift off, I found a girl’s pink hair tie stuck to the pillow.

Some time later, I was awoken to my phone buzzing, propped up by a stack of notifications reading ‘missed call.’ I answered the ringing without double checking the caller. “Hello?” I said with a weak voice.

“James-” Came the worried nagging of my coworker. “Are you not back yet?”

“I am.”

“It’s 8:45. Did you just wake up?”

“Yes.”

“I talked management into allowing you half of last week to be counted as payed vacation. You better thank me by telling me about that little girl of yours.”

I planted my face back in the pillow with the ear-piece still to the side of my head. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell you. I’m officially calling in sick for today. Pass it on.”

*Click*

Thanks for joining me on this adventure.  Hey, there’s another story right around the corner as Camp Nanowrimo is going on.  

The City and The Woman

The Way Back Around: Chapter 9

I grabbed up the phone from Hanna’s hand before she had a chance to react. “Caleen, we need to talk.”

Behind me, the bell on the door rang as another group came through, and the first employee at the food line shouted the restaurants greeting. “Bienvenu!”

“James? Are you at a Lycée Pita?”

I frowned. “What is it with you two and this yuppie restaurant? Listen, we are in D.C.”

“What are you doing all this way out here? You have business or something? Are you forcing Hanna to pay for your meals, you bum?”

“Caleen, I need you to listen. We’re going to be there tonight, and you better be ready.”
“Wait, hold on now-” Her voice rang in a shrill call as I hung up. Hanna sat petrified in her seat, staring at her bread pocket.

“We should have called her… some time ago.”

I slid the phone back across the table to her. “Eat up.” I directed. “We’re going to need fuel for when we stand up to your mother later.”

Hanna was mostly silent as we covered the last two hours north to the even bigger city. As soon as we crossed over into the New Jersey area, I jostled her shoulder to grab her attention. “Listen, I know your mom. Even if me and her can’t get along, I know what to say to get her back to her senses and have you back at home where you belong.”

“Sure…” She said, shifting back in the seat.

I pried my phone out of the holder on my dash and passed it to her. “Put in your address for me.”

Hanna took it with an exasperated sigh. “She’s usually at work until this time.”

“I know she’ll be home. How is she supposed to welcome you back if she’s not?”

“Whatever you say…” Hanna trailed off as she put in the route and shoved my phone back inside the holder.

Caleen lived at the tip of Manhattan, in an area named ‘Tribeca’ The building that the GPS brought us to was as fancy as I expected, a glass exterior that rose up into the sky and glowed from the inside with various shades of lighting, a description I could have given to half the buildings around the area. “This it?” I asked Hanna.

A loud honk came from behind me as I scanned the street ahead for a place to park. “Yeah.” Hanna said, sitting up. She pointed us forward to one of the side streets where there happened to be a meter open.

The machine took a good handful of change before offering up a meager half an hour. Hanna retrieved her bag and backpack from the back seat and stood up on the sidewalk waiting for me.

“Lead the way.” I said, looking up the side of the towering building.

Hanna sighed and turned up the sidewalk. At the front of the building was a set of security doors, opened with a combination of numbers that she was able to put in effortlessly. The lobby was fancy, but also somewhat plain, with several rows of mailboxes and awaiting elevators. I was once again helpless but to follow Hanna inside and to the level she had chosen.

I held my breath as Hanna finally stopped outside one of the doors up on the third level. Hanna put in a second set of numbers to open the door. I grabbed the handle and held it open.

Hanna dumped her things immediately on the floor inside. I looked up upon hearing the tapping of heels my way. “James.” She said with arms crossed. Caleen was the same woman I knew, with a slightly different shade of hair, and slightly more tired complexion. “You’ve gained weight.”

“And you’re as gorgeous as I remember.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” She scowled. Hanna crept up beside her, and Caleen draped her arm lazily down the girl’s back. “Good to see you back, my dear.”

“Thanks, mom…”

“Go take a shower and change. You smell like dirt and grease.”

Hanna nodded and began wandering off. Caleen continued to stare me down. “Why did bring her back all this way? And without asking me.”

“Why did you send her my way? It’s not like you you asked, either.”

“Well, it’s obvious you didn’t feel like playing father.” Caleen planted her hands on her hips. “Come, have a seat at least. I don’t have any beer, unfortunately.”

The fancy apartment had a clear lack of walls, divided up rather by bookcases and long couches and tall plants. The glass windows at the far back looked out upon the evening city. Caleen planted herself on a wide, flat, uncomfortable looking couch not far from the doorway. I found the matching ottoman nearby and sat down to face her. “Listen, I know what you wanted to punish her for, but that’s not fair for her or myself.”

Caleen smirked. “I figured that if she got away from that boy, he would lose interest and find someone else. Boys are like that.”

“Fine, if that’s what you came to so spontaneously.” I sighed. “Hanna’s a good listener, though. I’m sure she would have-”

“Actions speak louder than words, James. And your actions tell me you have no interest in being a father to her.” She stood again and pulled out her phone. “Now, you flew in to D.C. or something first? I’ll have my assistant book you a ticket for tonight from JFK.”

“I drove. I had business in Dallas, and my work should pay at least that distance.”

Caleen looked at me dumbfounded, mouth held half open. “Well…”

“My car broke down in Tennessee. Got a rental. If you really want to send me off, a flight to Memphis was already on my mind.”

“Fine, whatever you want.”

“I just worry about Hanna.”

“You should worry about me. I gave her nanny a couple weeks off, so who knows if she’s going to be around to help me out when I have to work still.” Caleen began, pacing around on her tight heels. “The woman’s off on some crazy vacation… Buffalo, or Niagara Falls or something.”

“A nanny?” I asked, taken aback. “When I was Hanna’s age, I was at home by my self plenty of time, even a weekend here or there.”

“Well, you know what she’ll get up to if left alone all summer.”

I stood and shook my head. “The girl only wants attention. She doesn’t need to hear from a nanny or a personal assistant. She needs a mother. Have you had the talk with her yet? About what that boy really wanted with her? Or what she’s supposed to do when that time comes? I had a great time, I’ll have you know, driving all this way with her, getting to know her. You should try it once.”

“Just leave, James.” Caleen scowled at me once again.

“Do you mean that?” A small voice came out from the hallway. Hanna had changed her clothes, and was wiping down her wet hair with a towel. “About having a fun time?”

“Sure I do, Hanna.” I declared.

Hanna dropped the towel on the ground and ran to me, wrapping my midsection with her arms. “I didn’t… mind it either.”

Caleen tapped her foot loudly. “Well, your father is going to be leaving now. I’ll get you your flight confirmation number to Memphis when my assistant finishes booking it.”
I leaned back and let Hanna go. “I’d be more than happy to have Hanna again. Just let me know before she does.”

“Whatever.”

“Winter Break.” I declared, looking into Caleen’s eyes. “We’ll be done with the Christmas advertising season by then, and I’ll be free to hang out with her again.”

“That’s just fine for me.”

Hanna tugged on my arm. “I’ll come! I’ll come!”

I nodded at Hanna. “Sure thing. Now, I think my meter is running down. Caleen-” I paused, looking to her again. “You know what to do.”

Hanna continued at my heels while I went to the door back out into the hall. “Bye! I love you, dad!”

I blinked the tears out of my eyes as I turned back for one last waive before pressing the button for the elevator.

The Final Stop

The Way Back Around: Chapter 8

The morning started later than days previous. To no surprise, both of us had managed to sleep in through my alarm set on my phone. By the time we went out to get the complimentary breakfast, the server was already beginning to put it away. I pumped at the coffee dispenser, allowing it to cough out a half cup of luke-warm brew.

Hanna joined me shortly after with a bowl of dry cereal. “Don’t worry,” I said with a sigh. “There’ll be plenty of places to stop along the way to eat. This time you’ll treat me, though, seeing as how you’ve suddenly got a debit card on you.”

Hanna giggled and crunched on a spoonful of the colorful rings. “I guess…”

Some way up I-81, we had stopped for lunch at a diner along one of the various towns that seemed to exist no farther than one single stretch of highway. Shortly after our departure, I began to see the tale-tell signs of the big cities of the northeast. One that continued to catch my attention was that of Washington D.C.

“Hanna.” I spoke up.

She sat up in her seat and glanced out the windows. “Where are we at now?”

“I was just thinking… you ever been to Washington?”

“Uh…” Hanna shrugged. “I think next year at school we take a trip there. I dunno.”

“I almost got to go…” I began to reminisce. “Back when we had real field trips.”

“Real field trips?”

“I mean, where they take you on a plane and you get to fly somewhere with your entire class.”

“Sounds like a drag.”

I nodded in agreement. “I would assume, but at the time I found it unfortunate that I didn’t get to go.”

Hanna sat up and stared at me with great attention. “Did you get sick or something?”

“Well, not quite.” I said playfully. “We had to write a paper on a president before going.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen those.”

“We did ours before we had the Internet to research on.”

“What? How, even?”

“The library. Hitting the books.” I waived my finger in a way similar to how I remember a past teacher doing. “The only thing was, I copied down stuff about two completely different presidents- James Garfield and Grover Cleveland. I ended up with a paper about ‘Grover Garfield’.”

“Hah.” Hanna held her hands to her mouth.

“They thought I was taking the whole thing as a joke, and they forced me to stay at school in detention while everyone else spent a week over here.”

“Aww, so you never went?”

“Nope, though it would have been cool, I imagine. Everyone was talking about it for weeks after they got back.” I focused on the road and the green signs draped across the highway, studying the text upon them as they flew by. “Well, I don’t want to keep you on the road for longer than we need to.”

“No, let’s go!” Hanna shuffled in her seat excitedly. “We can see all the things you should have seen! How far is it?”

I glanced at the route on my phone, guiding us toward the destination we had been heading toward for the past week. With a swipe of my finger, with one eye still on the road, I found the general outline of the capital city. Hanna leaned forward and tapped out a new destination with her finger.

Route calculating the voice on my phone called out. Two hours and fifteen minutes to destination. Continue straight on I-81 for forty-five minutes. “Two hours, it sounds like.” I repeated unnecessarily.

“Hmm.” Hanna hummed in thought.

“You could be home tonight, if we just skipped it,” I said with a joking tone.
Hanna sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, it’s dangerous to try and mess with your phone while driving. Just keep headed that way.”

Continue reading “The Final Stop”