Page 7 of Candid Moments
“I can see if we have anything. With canceled flights and a reunion going on, I think we are sold out.”
“Sold out?”This night keeps getting worse.“If everything is closed, where the hell..”. I catch myself and my misplaced anger. This clerk has been nice and professional our entire interaction. In a calmer tone, I continue. “My apologies. What other options would I have?”
“Unfortunately, none if we are in fact sold out but maybe there are pending cancellations. Give me a minute to check,” she says before concentrating on her computer screen. I try not to think the worst as she checks but I can’t help it. Taking my assback up to Maddox’s suite isn’t an option. I’ll sleep out in the fucking blizzard before I do that. “Okay. Miracles do happen. We have one room left. A one-bedroom studio with a full size bed, kitchen, and sofa. It’s two—”
“I’ll take it. My flight leaves Monday morning but I don’t know what’s going to happen with this weather. Can you book me until Wednesday just to be safe?”
“Reservations have to be paid in full at booking. If you leave early, we won’t be able to issue a refund.”
“That’s fine.” I pick up my license and credit card then hand them to her.
“Thank you.” She looks over to the other clerk then says to him, “I’m booking the last room. Make sure everyone knows.”
“I knew I should have said no to overtime today. FML,” he scoffs as he starts typing loudly on his keyboard.
After handing me my cards back, the nice clerk motions to the large keypad. “That’s your reservation on screen. Review the dates and rates, then initial. Then, scroll until the bottom. I need your vehicle info. Valet is included in your rate. Otherwise, it’s fifty a day.”
“It’s a rental and the info is in the car. I don’t have it on me.”
“When you check out, just let the staff know and we can comp valet. I’ll add a note in your reservation in case it isn’t me.”
“Thanks.”
After reviewing the screen, I initial and sign where indicated then place the electronic pen back in its holding spot.The clerk passes me my key card and the Wi-Fi password. Over this fucked up night, I just want to grab something to drink and go up to my room to shower this shit away. So I roll my bag with me to the little marketplace.
There’s actually a decent size crowd in the small store. With the closure of the entire city, looks like we all had the same idea. I maneuver to the coolers and grab two bottles of water and Gatorade. Influenced by full hands and bags of the other customers, I decide to grab snacks to be on the safe side. Forty-seven dollars later, I exit the marketplace with my drinks plus a lunch kit, trail mix, a can of Pringles, two Cup of Noodles, and peanut butter crackers.
The moment I turn the corner leading to the lobby, I hear her voice. My accidental partner in this mess is going off on somebody. After hearing her yelling at ol’ boy, I easily recognize her voice. When I’m in the lobby, I see she’s at the desk, arguing with the nice clerk who’d assisted me. Our connection is strange, unorthodox, and based on betrayal but there’s no denying it exists so I step to the desk to ascertain the situation.
“Where am I supposed to go? You have to have one room! A bed, a sofa, something I can fucking lay my head on and stop this damn headache!”
“Ms. Payne, as I have been—”
“Jamila,” she insists.
“Ms. Jamila. I’m trying to explain. The hotel is booked to capacity. There are no rooms.”
“Then call your sister hotel or something.”
“The roads are closed. Even if they have rooms, you would be unable to get there.”
“And where the hell does that leave me?” she snaps. “You can charge whatever; I’ll pay.”
The clerk spots me heading their way and her eyes plead for me to intervene or do something. I raise my hand to acknowledge I see her then cautiously approach. She’s emotional and upset. Even though we are in fact strangers, we share the identical source of her frustration and I feel compelled to help. In her current state of fragility, one more thing could easily debilitate her, so I tread lightly and approach gingerly.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” I ask calmly the moment I’m by her side.
“Excuse me,” she snaps but when her head whips my way she quickly registers who I am. She exhales loudly and her tear-stricken face softens. She opens her mouth to speak but refrains. Unexpectedly, she steps into my space, latches her arms around my neck, then buries her face into my chest. When she audibly cries, I place my hands on her back and try my best to soothe her. For a moment, she releases her feelings through her tears as I embrace her. Then, she sniffles and lifts her head. Her big, doe-shaped eyes peer into mine for a few seconds then she abruptly steps out of my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She snatches her handbag from the counter then frantically places it on top of her suitcase. She tries unsuccessfully to attach the bag to her luggage. After her third attempt, she kicks her luggage and it starts to roll away from her. She’s falling apart in front of my eyes and I feel so much empathy for her. After stepping over and stopping her luggage, I roll it back to her, take her handbag, and hook the strap around the handle of her luggage, then tap her arm.
“Let’s go over here,” I suggest.
With no objection, her shoulders deflate and she walks beside me as I roll our luggage to the elevator bay. Once we are alone and out of the lobby, I look at her, plot my words, then make a crazy ass solution to her frustrating dilemma.
“I just booked the last room,” I begin and her eyes narrow into slits. “And you can stay with me. There’s a bed and a sofa,” I add quickly. Her eyes narrow more and she shakes her head.
“I can’t…I don’t know you and I don’t… No thank you.” Her skepticism has her stumbling over her words.
