vest-clad attendant as she rounded the corner into the mysterious place behind the reception area. I leaned on the counter to await her return.
Several minutes later, the attendant still had not re-emerged. I had begun to get impatient, my fingers hovering over the little service bell threateningly, when a man materialized through a door behind the desk. He straightened his little maroon bow tie as he approached me at the counter.
“May I help you?”
The man’s face was narrow and pointed. His sloped nose was dramatically exaggerated by a weak chin that resided beneath a row of overly-prominent front teeth. His tongue flicked out to wet his already-glistening lips, making me shiver in revulsion.
He had combed all that was left of oily brown hair over his balding scalp in one long swoop from left to right. I was sure from the looks of it that he couldn’t possibly have washed it even once in the past week. All in all, my immediate impression was one of a weasel (if a weasel was pink, walked on his hind legs and talked in a whiny, nasal voice that is), right down to his beady eyes. They looked out at me from behind thick, black-rimmed glasses, watching me more like those of a hawk, sharp and cunning.
“Yes, I’d like a room please. One night, king bed, non-smoking,” I said confidently, as if I’d done this a thousand times.
The man nodded and asked to see my identification. I handed it over, hoping that he wouldn’t note my date of birth. When he began typing the information into the computer, I slowly released the breath I’d been holding.
When he was finished, a form printed out and he had me sign the bottom. After tearing away the perforated portion of the paper, he handed me a card key and directed me to my room on the third floor.
“Enjoy your stay, Carson,” he said with a creepy smile.
“Th-thank you,” I said. The way he said my name triggered some visceral response that made me distinctly uncomfortable.
I could feel his eyes on me as I walked back out to the car. I shook it off and chastised myself for such ridiculous suspicion. Being alert and aware was one thing; being cripplingly paranoid was quite another.
Dragging from the car my bag that once weighed about twenty pounds but now felt like it weighed about a hundred, I carried it inside to the elevators and punched the number three button.
Once I got to the room, I was thankful it was a Marriott and not a really cheap motel. I’d had the misfortune of staying in those before with Dad and that just wouldn’t do tonight. I ached from sitting most of the day, I was tired of the road already, and I was emotionally exhausted from life in general. The only things I wanted were a hot bath and sleep and I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing either of those in a lesser establishment.
After I’d locked and chained the door, closed the curtains and pushed a chair up against the doorknob, I took my bag to the bathroom and turned on the water in the bathtub.
When the mirror was steamed up from the heat, I peeled my clothes off and slipped into the tub. I sank down as low as I could, which left the water just grazing my chin. I closed my eyes and listened to the steady drip of the water from the leaky spigot, letting the rhythm soothe my overtaxed mind.
I must’ve dozed off because I could’ve sworn I heard someone whisper it’s almost time and touch my cheek. I awakened with a start and looked around. I was relieved to see that I was alone.
After my bath, I put on clean underwear and went around turning on every light in the small room. Much to my surprise, when I laid down, I went to sleep almost instantly.
That night I had the same dream I’d had many times before, the dream about the black house in the field. I would awaken in the hotel room then for some reason I’d go outside and find myself right back in the field, walking toward the house with no windows. It was all part of the dream this time and it ran on an endless loop. Three times I dreamt of waking before I actually woke and the last time, I saw the girl who looked just like me. She was whispering, “It’s almost time.”