Room 702

by Benjamin, Ann

  “Actually, here – in the hotel.”

  “Today? Physically there?”

  “No – that’s the strangest thing. They had a television in the lobby and it was applying through photos of different events and it was just a flash… I’m probably being silly.”

  “Not at all. If that picture motivated you to call me, I don’t care who it was.”

  “I don’t know. After all this time, what if she rejects us?”

  “Maybe she wants us to find her. Did you think of that?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you want to look for her?”

  Fifi looks at herself in the mirror, and straightens up then answers, “After I tell my husband. Yes, I think I do.”

  “How do you think your husband will take the news?”

  Fifi considers the questions and answers, “It’s so far in the past and he already has two children of his own. I think he’ll be okay.”

  “Our daughter has half siblings?”

  “No, we didn’t have any children together.”

  “I’d like to be a part of finding her, if you’d let me.”

  “I think that would be…okay.” Overcome with emotion, Fifi says, “I have to go.”

  Disappointed, Erik says, “Are you sure? It’s so nice to hear your voice again.”

  “This…was a big step for me.”

  “I know. Please call me as soon as you’re back.”

  “I will.”

  “And Frankie…”

  “Yes?”

  It is on the tip of Erik’s tongue to tell her so many things – words he has kept silent for decades. However, he doesn’t want to scare her off. Swallowing the words, he says, “Take care and enjoy you’re trip. I’ll be waiting when you return.”

  “Thank you.”

  Fifi ends the call and allows herself to weep. She cries for the lost years and the daughter she has never met and for the future she never shared with Erik. Trying to remind herself she has a wonderful life, she dries her tears and looks forward to finding her daughter.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  July 17, 3:05 P.M.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Really?” Nancy asks warily.

  “Yes. I’ve had time to think about my actions and I know you’ve been trying to help me. I just keep getting in the way of myself.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up.” Nancy reaches across and pats Oscar’s leg, “I know it was a big step for you to call me and make this appointment. Now, can I assume that you are here and ready to make real changes in your life?”

  Fiddling the large ring on his right hand, Oscar looks up and says, “Yes, I am.”

  “Contrary to what you might think, I genuinely do care and want your life to improve.”

  “I know.”

  “Congratulations, by the way,” Nancy adds.

  “Thank you – although I don’t think I had that much to do with the championship.”

  Nancy smiles and says, “The pundits would say differently, but I was actually talking about your changing agents.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I don’t obsessively follow your career, but I am interested in how things work out for you, Oscar. How is your new agent working out?”

  “So far, it’s been very positive.”

  “That’s good to hear, however, we both know that’s not why we’re here today. What else happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As much as I want to believe you’ve evolved and matured and are genuinely apologetic for our last session, and as positive of a step it was for you to take on new representation, I think there had to be something else which had prompted you being here today.”

  Oscar sighs deeply and says, “You’re right.”

  When the young man fails to divulge further details, Nancy says, “And that would be?”

  Fidgeting slightly, he says, “I started texting that girl.”

  “Oscar…”

  “Nothing’s happened.”

  “Nothing physical, you mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  “There is such a thing as emotional cheating, Oscar.”

  “But…”

  “No excuses. What if Dani was doing the same thing?” Oscar remains silent and Nancy continues, “Exactly what I thought. Look, don’t know if you’re trying to get caught or what you’re trying to prove, but I don’t think this path going to lead anywhere healthy.”

  On her patient’s continued silence, Nancy says, “These things have a way of coming out. Of ending badly. If Dani is going to be your wife for the next fifty years, this is not a strong way to start out. You’re only going to hurt her. No matter what you think she’s forcing you to do – she doesn’t deserve this.”

  “I know.”

  Nancy looks down at her notes, and pen poised, asks, “When was the last time you contacted the other young woman?”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  “Oscar, this might be an uncomfortable question, but have you sent anything of an inappropriate nature? Anything that could be taken out of context?”

  “Maybe.”

  Nancy barely holds back a sigh and asks, “Do you trust this young woman?”

  “You mean, do I trust her not to brag about her contact with me to the public and destroy my marriage?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then, no, I do not trust her one-hundred percent.”

  “Then why are you still in touch?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think if you really thought about it, you would know the answer to that question, however, I will not press you on your feelings.”

  “I do plan on ending it.”

  “But you haven’t yet.” Nancy abruptly changes the subject and asks, “How would you rate your communication with Dani? Did you reach a compromise about when you would start your family?”

  Oscar sits up and says, “Sort of.”

  “Sort of, how? Did you tell your wife your concerns?”

  “I did.”

  “How did that go?”

  “She thought I was being silly. She said I was nothing like my parents – that I wouldn’t be like them, that we were different.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “I guess.”

  “That doesn’t sound entirely convincing.”

  “How did you know you would be a good parent, Doc?”

  “Who says I am?”

  Oscar shoots her a look and says, “Objectively.”

  “Objectively, it’s something I worry about every day. Listen, Oscar, no one claims to have all the answers. Back to the point, what did Dani say about having to share your time?”

  “I don’t think she gets it. She was an only child – she’s always had all the attention from her parents – from me.”

  “Hmmm. Do you want more than one child?”

  “I guess – one day.”

  “Have you talked about that?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Oscar, I’m going to say something that might be a bit difficult to hear, but I want you to listen.”

  “Okay, Doc.”

  “You’ve mentioned in the past that one of the frustrations you have with your parents is how they fail to have any ‘real’ conversations with you.”

  “Do you think that’s why I’ve been avoiding things with Dani?”

  “I wouldn’t put all the blame on your parents, but your childhood was a place you learned and inherited certain communication styles from.”

  “Huh.”

  “Look, it’s a very human response to avoid conflict or uncomfortable situations, but, and as much as you might want to hear this, sometimes we need to have these difficult conversations.”

  “You’re right.”

  “To start, do you think you could end things with your paramour?”

  “She’s not my…” Nancy lifts an eyeb
row and he ends his sentence. “Fine, I will.”

  “Be careful, Oscar – I wouldn’t want to see the situation blow up in your face.”

  “Neither would I.”

  “This would be a good opportunity for you to completely control things. You decided to start a relationship, and if it is your decision to end things, you can do so in a mature manner.”

  Oscar shifts uncomfortably, then says, “I did make that call.”

  “You did and you’re the only one who can put things to a mature end.”

  “I will.”

  “And, since I have to ask at least once every other session or so, are you sure you don’t want to let Dani know you’re here?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Nancy jots a few notes and then, putting her pen down, asks, “Oscar, I want to really think about this question I’m about to ask you.”

  “Go ahead, Doc.”

  “What is your biggest fear?” When he doesn’t answer, Nancy says gently, “It’s okay to have more than one.”

  “I’m afraid of everything.”

  “Name your fears, Oscar.”

  He sighs deeply and says, “I worry that I’ll get injured and won’t be able to play.”

  “What else?”

  “That I’ll do something stupid and Dani will leave me.”

  “And chatting up another woman does not qualify as something stupid?”

  “I know.”

  “Do you? I know you aren’t comfortable with the discussions you and Dani have been having around children, but sabotaging your relationship before you even have a chance to start? I thought you were better than that.”

  “Maybe I’m not.”

  “I don’t believe you. I also don’t believe you’ve been honest with yourself. Oscar, what is your greatest fear?”

  He looks out the window and in a shaky breath answers, “Being alone.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “You really want me to say it?”

  “I do. I know it will be painful, but if we’re going to get anywhere I need you to admit this.”

  “Fine. I think I fear being alone, because it’s how I feel most of the time. It’s how I felt growing up.”

  “Who made you feel this way?”

  “My parents.” Oscar releases another deep shuddering sigh. Although he would’ve never expected it and wouldn’t admit the action outside of the room, his bottom lip begins to tremble and the corners of his eyes tear up. He can’t remember the last time he cried, so the act feels strange and foreign.

  Nancy quietly passes a tissue across and says, “It’s okay, Oscar. It’s okay and you’re not alone. There are many people who love and care for you.”

  Wiping tears away, his voice cracks and he says, “It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like everyone else has someone, has support. Why can’t I have that?”

  “You will.”

  “Why don’t I?”

  “It takes time.”

  “Why couldn’t they show me they cared? Why do they still not seem to give a shit about anything I do?”

  “I can’t answer for them and I can’t change them. All I can do is help you accept your feelings and move on.” Nancy pauses and asks, “Can you help me do that?”

  Oscar blows his nose loudly and says, “Yes.”

  “Although it might be difficult to do, I need you to stop putting so much effort towards thinking about your parents. They’ve made choices and do not appear to be very interested in changing their attitude any time soon. At the moment, the subject is one of frustration and anger. I’d rather you focus on things you can change. Do you understand what I’m saying, Oscar?”

  “I do.”

  “Your interaction with your team, your wife — these are things you can change.”

  Giving one last sniffle, he says, “I know.”

  “But Oscar, I’m proud of you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not easy admitting a fear. It’s not easy to admit that your parents made you feel alone.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Oscar, it’s not your fault you were born into that household.”

  He remains quiet.

  “Oscar, you’re not alone.”

  Oscar picks at the dampened tissue.

  “Oscar, repeat after me, ‘I am not alone.’”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can.”

  He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth but is unable to speak. Nancy smiles and nods encouragingly at him. He opens his mouth again and says, “I am not alone.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  July 21, 4:03 P.M.

  “I’m sorry.” The words seem small and insignificant in the space. Erik Kester is dressed in a somber black suit and sits on the couch. He doesn’t move for a very long time. He looks at nothing in particular. In his interior suit pocket, his phone vibrates – the humming making the only sound in the room.

  He breathes in, releases the air slowly and realizes Frankie will never have the chance to do so again.

  To outsiders, the industry legend is stoic, but fair, and has a reputation for cutting through the bullshit of the entertainment industry to get work done. Having never married, Erik Kester has instead dedicated himself to his job and the studio he helped shape. There have been all kinds of rumors regarding his matrimonial status, but he never indulged any of them. All in all, there are very few regrets he has in life.

  Not finding Frances is one of the biggest.

  And now, she’s gone.

  He didn’t cry at the funeral.

  He thinks back over the week.

  The studio head didn’t find out until he was on his way to a dinner with the president of television and scrolling through his Blackberry, checking the local news. A private plane went down near Simi Valley. There were no survivors. Three crew and one woman, the wife of a respected businessman from Palm Springs. When he saw Frankie’s picture, he couldn’t believe the news. They had only talked the day before. The rest of the week had been a blur. He’d asked his junior assistant to let him know when and where the funeral was and wrestled with whether or not he wanted to attend. As he was only a small part of her life, he had no business going. However, in the end, he needed the closure the event would provide. Driving himself, he arrived late and slipped in the back of the packed church.

  In addition to the daughter he had never met, Frances had two step-children, a boy and a girl. While various loved ones from her life spoke throughout the service, he took time to remember their time together. The relationship had been brief. They’d met when she had arrived for a casting call for a network soap opera. He’d been nothing more than a lowly production assistant at the time, new to the industry and the city. Having been in the middle of copying scripts and been on hand for coffee runs, he recalled the exact moment when she walked into the casting department and immediately took his breath away.

  Erik had somehow stumbled into asking her to coffee and even though they hadn’t had two dimes to rub together, had managed to make the summer an incredibly fun one. They’d learned about love. They’d found unique places in the city and made them their own. She’d struggled through auditions and he’d somehow managed to get a full time job in the story department.

  As he’d done when she initially disappeared from his life, he tried to remember if there were any signs of her being upset. If she’d missed her period or had started pulling away, he couldn’t remember any change in her personality or actions towards him. While the preacher continued, Erik remembered the exact day she had left him. They had been talking about moving in together, possibly even getting engaged. He had thought about the ring he would buy her. He hadn’t met her mother yet, but they hoped to travel to her hometown for Thanksgiving. He went to call on her one day, as they usually met for coffee after her night shift at Canter’s and before he started work at the studio.

  She wasn’
t there.

  He asked one of their mutual friends, an older woman named Shirley, if she had seen Frances. Besotted by the young lovers, the career waitress was happy to assist. Apparently Frances hadn’t shown up for work that night. Worried, Erik had driven to her little bungalow in West Hollywood, only to find Frances had mysteriously moved out. For months, he had stalked the places they had visited, but she had disappeared. In the nascent romance, he hadn’t been able to learn much about her background, but knew she came from a broken home and one that wouldn’t even particularly care to know a daughter had gone missing.

  Fearing the worst, Erik began scanning obituaries and reading police reports.

  Then one day, he woke up and realized she wasn’t coming back. He fell into a deep depression and began to drink heavily. Somehow, he managed to hold onto his job and upon coming out of his black period, threw himself into work, vowing never to be distracted by love again. That had been years ago. He had never once suspected their romance had produced a child. Close friends of Erik’s had forever wondered who was the woman who had so completely broken his heart that it could never fully be put back together.

  Then, out of nowhere, she’d called him.

  “Why didn’t I come to see her?”

  His guilt and desperation had been what brought him to the hotel today. After the service had ended, and he’d had a solitary meal at Canter’s, Erik called the Winchester and, under the pretext of being a member of her family, checked himself into the suite where she must’ve been when she called him a week ago.

  There is nothing he can do now, except try and find their daughter.

  He continues to sit in a space, occupied by someone no longer there, thinking of the past, of a woman he can never know.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  July 27, 4:05 P.M.

  Nathan Rourke digs hungrily into the pastry. It’s his fifth since he checked in. The scone, just like the pain au chocolat, and the cheese-filled croissant practically melt in his mouth.

  He calls the front desk and asks, “This may sound like a random question, but can you please let me know the name of your pastry chef?”

  “Of course, Mr. Rourke. The Winchester uses a local bakery to source their breads and pastries. The owner of Laura’s Sweet Stuff is only available to us for some private events. We’ve tried hiring her away a few times to be permanent staff, but she seems happy with her shop. Can I ask if there is a problem with her products?”