Room 702

by Benjamin, Ann

  Your mind starts to drift, and you wonder to yourself, who else has stayed in this room?

  CHAPTER TWO

  January 1, 2:32 A.M.

  A few hours into the New Year, a young couple stumbles into the junior suite. Married five years, the British nationals have only been living in Los Angeles for eight months or so – but tonight, in celebration and anticipation of the year ahead, they have splashed out and opted for the Winchester’s deluxe New Year’s

  package (dinner, unlimited drinks, welcome gift, breakfast, and late check out). After all, this is their first New Year away from the comforts of home, friends, and family.

  “It was nice tonight,” Chelsea Pearson comments, removing delicate silver earrings, a gift from Shaun on their wedding day.

  “Yesh,” Shaun agrees, more than a little tipsy from the unlimited champagne the waiters were pouring. His wife, hesitant in case this is the month she sees the plus sign on the pregnancy test, refrained from drinking much past a celebratory glass at midnight. Slipping his already untied bowtie off, he continues, “I can’t wait to put the picturesh online.”

  Chelsea smiles indulgently at her spouse. Since moving to Los Angeles from London, Shaun has been constantly posting pictures, videos, celebrity sightings and all of their latest updates. Although they both came from humble beginnings, taking the risk to move thousands of kilometers from friends and family has paid off. After a short time, Shaun, a talented real estate agent, pulled an excellent commission check – making nights like tonight possible. Chelsea is optimistic that by the time they ring in the next New Year there will be three in their family. Having been so careful for years, Chelsea went off birth control four long months ago. She worries there is some issue why she hasn’t fallen pregnant yet, but Shaun assures her they will conceive when they are supposed to and that they should enjoy their time alone together while they still can. In fact, using the concept of the ‘babymoon’ as an excuse, they’ve shared some romantic weekends exploring their new surroundings: Santa Barbara, Catalina Island, Palm Springs, and a few days trying to get lucky in Las Vegas.

  Amazed at how far technology has come, earlier in the day, Chelsea took an ovulation test to determine if tonight was, indeed, one of her more fertile occasions. While these tests take some of the fun and mystery out of the experience, Chelsea’s New Year’s resolution is to get pregnant, and she’ll use whatever means necessary to ensure she accomplishes this goal.

  “The Yanks were nice, don’t you think?” Shaun asks.

  “Yes, they certainly know how to party.”

  Shaun checks his phone – still beeping with texts from friends around the world celebrating the New Year. Placing the device on the table, he asks, “Mind if I take shower quickly?”

  “Be my guest.”

  As usual when he’s had too much to drink, Shaun quickly shucks off all of his clothes, leaving them stranded on various pieces of furniture and walks into the bathroom. Steam heats up the adjacent room and Chelsea hears her husband humming an off-key version of one of the last songs played during the evening. On a whim, they decided to join some of his work mates at the hotel. Having only flown in the day before from the U.K., Chelsea loves the spontaneity of her new home city. Her level of comfort is part of the reason she has moved up her personal life plan. Unexpectedly, she finds Los Angeles as the type of place she wants to raise children. Chelsea loves the different and wonderful people you can meet at a sushi restaurant on Ventura or while shopping at Gelson’s – so different from the village she was brought up in. She enjoys the nearly always pleasant weather and casual lifestyle.

  Taking off her high silver heels, Chelsea luxuriates on the soft duvet, before rising to go through her nightly retinue. Entering the bathroom, as she washes her face and removes her eye make up, she thinks back over the night. The only issue from making the evening altogether perfect was the rather difficult scene Chelsea had to witness in the ladies room downstairs. Prior to the countdown, Chelsea had excused herself to freshen her makeup and use the loo. With the music too loud to have any sort of conversation, Chelsea had accidentally met another woman’s glance in the mirror and had immediately taken notice. The young woman with sad blue eyes clearly appeared to be maudlin, even among the celebratory atmosphere. Chelsea, more sober than those around her, caught the desperate glance. She had mouthed the words ‘you okay?’ to the blonde, but the woman had looked away in response, coating her already blood red lips in even more gloss. Going back to her table, Chelsea had thought to mention the woman to Shaun, but upon returning to the group had forgotten the incident. Hearing her husband continue to sing behind her, she feels luckier than ever.

  “Hurry up, darling,” she says, walking out of the bathroom. Reaching into their luggage, she pulls out a special set of lingerie – purchased especially for this evening and pulls the silk over her naked body. Although they have been together for eight years, married for five, she still likes to surprise her husband now and then. It’s been months since she’s been off the pill and while she doesn’t want to worry yet, she grows concerned each month that she menstruates. The gynecologist informed her that conception could take a while, but not to worry and let nature take its course.

  Making herself comfortable in the bed, Chelsea lets her mind wander and wonders what their baby will look like. Will he have blonde hair like hers, or dark hair like Shaun’s? The distinctive Pearson nose? Which ears? Chelsea knows she’s letting her imagination get in front of her, but she cannot wait to see how genetics come together to create a new life. Although she’s only briefly mentioned her ideas to Shaun, she’s already picked out the perfect names for their future son or daughter. Helen Wendy Pearson or Philip Allan Pearson.

  Dimming the lights, Shaun asks, “You still awake, darling?”

  “Over here.”

  Chelsea knows Shaun has been patient with her and tries to remind his wife they’ll have a baby when the timing’s right. Looking at his towel-clad figure, Chelsea gently pats a place next to her on the bed and says, “Let’s make a baby.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  January 5, 3:30 P.M.

  A couple enters the room, with no luggage and no help from the bell staff. Oscar Carlton is tall, well over six feet, and after quickly reviewing the room, confidently splays himself on the settee, propping his feet up on the longer side. What looks like comfortable seating for two, suddenly becomes a small chair for this giant. He wears loose fitting warm up clothes in yellow, adorned with purple. Large black Adidas shoes grace his extra large feet. Dr. Nancy Carlyle, older than Oscar by fifteen years and easily shorter by a foot, is dressed in a conservative ensemble of tailored khaki trousers and a button down, fitted blue shirt from Banana Republic, complete with a silver and blue silk scarf. She wears glasses and carries a leather briefcase. After looking around the room for a moment, she chooses to sit behind the desk, putting her at a height advantage over the younger man. Upon sitting, she calmly retrieves a notepad, a Mont Blanc pen and then looks at the gentleman in front of her and asks, “So, Mr. Carlton?”

  “Yes? Is this it? Are we starting things?” Suddenly polite, he sits up, and looks in her direction, dark eyes wary.

  “If by ‘things’ you mean our first session together, then the answer is yes.”

  “Sorry, I’m kind of new to all this. And please call me Oscar. ‘Mr. Carlton’ sounds like my dad.”

  “No need to apologize, Oscar. If you feel comfortable, please feel free to call me Nancy. Before we start, let me begin by saying, I hope you will gain something meaningful out of our time together.”

  “So do I.”

  “I realize how precious your time is and appreciate your decision to be here. However, I want to be clear – I want to help you and will do everything within my professional ability to make that happen, but part of our relationship may involve participation and work from your end. Is this something you’re open to?”

  Oscar considers the question. For the
months it’s taken for him to get here, he finally does feel prepared to make some sort of progress on his condition. He nods solemnly and says, “Yes.”

  Nancy smiles in his direction and continues, “Now, I’m not sure what you’ve seen on television or heard from other people, but I want to assure you that what we discuss will be kept completely private and confidential. Does this sound okay to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I realize trust is something we’ll have to build over time, but given your status in the community, I am also happy to sign any sort of non-disclosure agreement, if it will make you feel more at ease.”

  Oscar’s dark eyes widen and Nancy puts her hands up and continues, “I don’t want to alarm you, I merely want you to believe me that this is a safe place, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you feel comfortable if I record our sessions?”

  “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

  “That’s completely fine and I’m happy to honor your wishes. So, let’s begin, shall we? Remember, it’s just an hour,” she says with a reassuring smile.

  “Sounds fine.”

  From his body language, Nancy realizes Oscar is skeptical and doubting whether his decision to contact a therapist was a good idea. Unsure how their session will go, she questions, “If I can start our conversation today by asking, why you were not comfortable meeting in my office?”

  “Too many people.”

  “As in too many people who might recognize you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Are you embarrassed to see me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Surprising her patient, Nancy laughs and answers, “Well, at least you’re honest, and, as the expense is yours for this room, although unorthodox, I am happy to meet you in a mutually amicable space and one that protects your privacy. However, our location is something I would like to start with today. Is being a public figure something you are used to?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Carlton, Oscar, I am merely stating a fact. As a professional athlete, and a successful one at that, ‘people’ are everywhere you go. Are you comfortable with your role in the public spotlight?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Then, there is part of you that is uncomfortable?”

  “I guess.”

  “Is that one of the reasons why you contacted me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Nancy scribbles something in her notes and says, “When you first called, you mentioned you were seeking therapy because you wanted to talk about your relationship with your wife. Is that still what you want to focus on, or would you like to discuss something else?”

  Oscar Carlton takes a deep breath. In his twenty-five years, he has been far luckier than most people. He already has a NBA championship ring. He has an agent, multiple high profile sponsors, and promotional deals with all kinds of companies. Last year, in between seasons, he married his college sweetheart, Dani Cobb. But somewhere since his graduation from Georgetown University, he can’t shake the feeling that everything has spun out of control. After signing with the Sacramento Kings and moving to the West Coast, then recently being bought by the Lakers, he feels like a passenger in the fast forward film that is his life. After watching too many episodes of Cribs, he had opted for a giant house in Holmby Hills. Practices, games, traveling, charity events, ESPY awards – all these events floated by and the only thing that changed was his wardrobe. His life isn’t what he thought it would be. Now that he has supposedly ‘made it,’ he has no idea why anyone would want to be here.

  Although Oscar has hidden his insecurities, he struggled through the last holiday season. He has felt increasingly empty, shallow and disconnected from the world. Although his playing hasn’t been effected, the basketball player’s slow departure from reality has started to concern him enough that, before he lost his motivation completely, he realized he needed to see a mental health care professional about what he was experiencing. Not feeling comfortable approaching the coaches or physical trainers on staff, he had used more conventional methods to track down Dr. Nancy. More than anything, Oscar does not want to see his relationship worsen with his wife. Unable to shake off his malaise, he recognizes his relationship with Dani is the most important thing in the world to him, more valuable than any amount of money or even playing the game. Already, he feels her slipping away. So, he’s done the only thing he could think of. He got online, did some research and called this lady in front of him. He had told no one his destination or his purpose this afternoon. He has no idea what to expect from their meeting. Would he instantly feel better? Would she prescribe him some sort of medication? Would she laugh at the rich man who had everything?

  With all this in mind, he answers, “For now, let’s start with the basics. Having never been to a shrink before, I have no idea how this is supposed to work.”

  “And that’s completely okay. I want you to recognize you made a difficult step by setting up the appointment with me today. I’m also sure you had any number of reasons not to follow through for actually seeing me. Oscar, just by being in this room, you’ve actively chosen to acknowledge your issues.”

  “Thanks Doc, the thing is, I keep in shape for the game by practicing and working out. I figured talking to you was like the same thing… just for my brain.”

  “What is it you want to get out of our sessions?”

  Eyes darting away from her, Oscar answers, “I see everyone else and it seems like they have their shit together. I want that feeling.”

  “When was the last time you had it?”

  “I’m not even sure.”

  “Think hard. Take a moment – we’re in no rush.”

  He is quiet a minute, and Nancy allows him to think, to relax. When she received the e-mail from him requesting her services, she actually hadn’t believed it was the real Oscar Carlton. Although she didn’t follow professional sports (preferring instead, to root for the football team of her undergraduate alma mater, Auburn University), she has lived in Los Angeles long enough to know the Lakers are important, and Oscar Carlton is a big part of their recent success. Convincing herself her client had to be another Oscar Carlton, Nancy was surprised to hear his recognizable voice on the phone and further shocked when he wanted to meet in a hotel. Although unorthodox, she was not without motivation of her own. While she did want the very best for her patient, she also knew treating such a high profile client could lead to other opportunities at a later time.

  “Okay, I have an answer.”

  “Yes?”

  “When I signed with Georgetown.”

  “Tell me more about that. How you were feeling and why you were in control?”

  Oscar visibly relaxes and leans back on the small sofa. He explains, “So, after my sophomore season in high school, I started getting noticed by certain schools. By the time I finished my junior year, colleges were already actively recruiting me.”

  “Can I interrupt?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you not pursue a professional career after your junior year of high school? Isn’t that allowed in the NBA?”

  “It is, but when I was still deciding things in my life, I knew I wanted the college experience. I wanted a NCAA ring and, as trite as it sounds, I wanted a degree. I worked hard in high school on my grades and while I wasn’t valedictorian, I did make the honor role.”

  Nancy, who has been taking notes, places her pen down and comments, “So far, I have to agree with the life decisions you made back then. Even at sixteen or seventeen, you were obviously able to identify what was important to you.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m hoping to get you back to that place, so we can understand what has changed since then. If you can please continue, we must be near your senior year.”

  Oscar nods and continues recounting his rise to success, “Over the summer I visited a lot of campuses, and talked to
a number of coaches. I felt good about Georgetown. Before the fall semester of my senior year ended, there was a big press conference at my school where I made a big deal about which hat I would wear.” Pausing to look at his massive hands, he continues, “After I signed my commitment papers, well…that’s the last time I feel like I made a decision of my own.”

  “Why?”

  “From then on, almost everything was predetermined. Where I was supposed to be, how I was supposed to train, when I had to go to class, what agents I needed to meet. There was no variety, no allowing for anything I might want to do.”

  “Did you ask others if they felt the same?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Not to be a bastard, but there were very few at my level. I knew I was going pro.”

  “Were you embarrassed to have that knowledge?”

  Oscar is hesitant, but finally says, “I don’t know – probably.” They are quiet, and the young man clarifies, “Although I might project it – I just don’t seem to have that egotistical gene that many other players have.”

  “Is being assertive something necessary to be successful in the sport?”

  “No.”

  “But?”

  “But…it might go back to my lack of confidence and control.”

  Nancy changes her line of questioning, “What about your wife? Was she a predetermined decision?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Can you explain?”

  “I love my wife.”

  “I wasn’t questioning your commitment to her, but I think she might be disappointed to hear she was a foregone conclusion in your life.”

  “She’s not – it just seemed like getting married was something we were supposed to do.”