by Ison, S. A.
The bed was plush and cradled her tired body, her head sinking into the fluffy pillow. She let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. She thought about Terry sharing such a bed with her, and a small girlish giggle erupted from her lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t wait until next week to call. Perhaps, once the conference was over, she might just change her flight plans.
8 June
Chicago, Illinois
Miriam woke early and headed down to the gym in the hotel; it boasted state-of-the-art equipment—with free towels, naturally—as well as fresh fruit and bottled water. It was quiet as she walked down the hall, the carpet beneath her feet muffling her footsteps. It was relatively early yet, and she hoped she would have the gym to herself. She wasn’t fond of being in a gym with others around her, especially strangers.
It was pretty quiet in the gym; she saw two others, but they had earbuds on and didn’t seem to want to socialize. Miriam worked first with the free weights, then did a twenty-minute run on the treadmill. Her body felt heavy and sluggish, so she went to the sauna for a few minutes. The heat was so intense she couldn’t stay, as she started to feel dizzy and queasy quite quickly.
The water bottle was empty, so she went to the fountain; its cold crisp wetness seemed to help. Taking a few more gulps, she filled her bottle and left the hotel’s gym. She was alone in the elevator as she went up to her floor. There was soft music playing, and thankfully the volume was low. The elevator smelled fresh, as did the halls. She wasn’t sure what they used in housekeeping, but she liked it.
In her room, she turned on the shower, wanting a cool one. A slight headache was developing at the base of her skull. She shouldn’t have gone into that sauna. Dried and dressed, she headed to the conference hall uptown. She would eat breakfast there.
As the morning wore on, body aches set in. She sipped constantly at her water, an overwhelming thirst driving her, and her throat began to feel scratchy again. She was thankful the cough had eased a bit, though. She attributed that cough to the dry air on the plane, the sauna, and general travel. She met and spoke with numerous people. She knew the politics of her job and laughed and shook hands, all the while just wanting to lie down.
The droning of the speaker made the headache move from the back of her head to the front. During one of the breaks she took some aspirin, and after a while, that seemed to help. The conference room was on the smallish side, and the room began to become stuffy and overly warm. Miriam could feel sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades, and was thankful she wore a light jacket.
They broke for lunch, and she and four others went to an eatery a few blocks away. She drank her water and poured more, asking the broody waiter to bring another pitcher of water. She only took a few sips of her wine, opting for the water.
She only half-listened to her companions, nodding occasionally at the right moments, a smile fixed on her face. Her mind drifted back to Terry and their fortuitous encounter. She thought perhaps she would try his cell later that evening. Touch base with him. She pushed her salmon around the plate. She felt a little queasy, but attributed that to the aspirin she’d taken earlier.
Washington, D.C
Gerald received another text from Georgia. He wasn’t sure why she was so antsy. He stood reading the text as he ate his microwaved burrito in the breakroom of the Galaxy Computer Hub. He had a twenty-minute lunch break and he meant to eat. He’d felt the buzz three times during the morning, and it wasn’t until now that he could address the calls. They’d all been from Georgia.
His fingers moved quickly as he sent back a text, telling her all was going well and the project on point and on time. He also told her he was at work, and couldn’t always answer her. He hit send and waited, wiping his greasy fingers on his dark pants. He could hear the hum of people outside the breakroom. The Galaxy was always busy. Now more than ever; with new products coming to market rapidly, people always wanted the newest gadgets.
Gerald considered himself self-employed; this gig at the Galaxy was just for fun, and for his own ego. He relished the customers’ awe and adulation when he solved their pathetic little problems. The private projects he took on were more lucrative, and more challenging, but were few and far between. Sadly, he had to work among the dregs of society; at least, to his way of thinking. Gerald snorted with disdain. Most of the troglodytes had no clue how to use their apps or devices, but he guessed that was good for him, as it kept him busy, and allowed him to really concentrate on the more lucrative projects.
He felt the buzz of his smartphone and looked. Georgia. Good, she was satisfied. She should be, he thought, she has the very best working for her. Yes, he knew her ass was on the line, yes, he knew to keep it quiet. Yeesh, he was a pro, he knew the dealio. He felt like a spy, and wondered if he should apply to work for the CIA. He took another bite of his burrito, then chugged the last of his diet drink and let out a loud belch, causing several others in the breakroom to look over at him.
He smiled triumphantly, and walked pass one of the women who were eating their lunch. He watched as she gave him a cold look and turned her head away.
“Don’t be a hater, catch ya later,” he said in burp talk, and laughed when she made gagging noises. He’d let out a silent deadly fart as he’d passed her, a parting gift for the little prima donna. He went to the employee bathroom; he felt a righteous dump coming on, and he also had ten more minutes until he had to go back to the floor. Enough time to get in a game on his smartphone as well.
Chicago, Illinois
Dale Hick hated being a waiter. He hated waiting on people. But on the terms of his parole, he had to hold down a job. He’d been busted with less than a gram of pot, and the asshole of a judge had been hard on him. Eighteen months of parole and surprise piss tests. He could only get high after a piss test now, and was paranoid of getting caught.
That really harshed his buzz. Not only that, he had to stay at that broke-down, roach-infested halfway house. His mom wouldn’t let him live with her; guess she didn’t want her boyfriends knowing she had a fucked-up kid. It was her fault he’d turned out like he had. The bitch was always with a different guy. His life had been hell growing up, getting smacked around by her latest beau.
She’d never given a shit about him, and at the age of nine, Dale had started getting in trouble, both at school and at home. He’d been suspended more times than he could remember, and had quit school when he was sixteen. He’d hung out with his crew, and dabbled in drugs and theft.
He was nineteen now, and that was why the judge had been so hard on him; the old man had actually told him to pull his head out of his ass. He couldn’t believe a judge could talk like that, but he had. He’d spent eight months in jail, and was set loose for an eighteen-month parole. He was also told to get a job, otherwise, back to incarceration. What a pain in the ass, he thought darkly.
Chandler’s was the only place that would give him a job. It was an upscale eatery, and there was a strict dress code and etiquette he had to follow. Following rules had never been his strong point, but he needed this job. He didn’t want to go back to jail. He despised the rich, because they were lousy tippers. Tightwad cheap-ass bastards, everyone.
When there was a particular snotty customer, he’d spit in their food, then watch while they ate. It seemed to right his world. He’d always felt just a par below others, and working here made him feel even more inferior.
Dale cleared the table of the thirsty blonde woman, and was mollified at the generous tip he got. Taking the dishes to the back, he took the wine glass of the older woman; she had hardly touched it, so he drank it down quickly before anyone could notice. He poured her glass of water back into the pitcher, ready for another table. It was clean enough he decided; clean enough for these assholes.
***
Mavis pulled the cleaning cart into room 601. She busied herself making the bed and picking up trash, then proceeded into the bathroom to clean. On the counter were several lipsticks, various makeup items and perfume. She sniffe
d the perfume and wrinkled her nose. Not her style. She picked up one of the open lipsticks, a beautiful shade of plum, and applied it. She admired her reflection, then put the cap on the lipstick and slipped it into her pocket. She was leaving for a vacation in the morning, a cruise in the Bahamas, and she had saved all year to go. The lipstick matched her new sundress perfectly, and she knew this lady wouldn’t miss it. She had four other tubes lying around.
Mavis planned to fly out of O’Hare to Miami after work with her cousin Caroline. They would board the Miami Travel Inc.’s cruise ship Albino Marsopa bright and early in the morning. They took cruises every couple of years, pretending to be rich and famous. They enjoyed the pampering and it was the only time in her life when she felt good about herself. Chicago was a hard city, especially in the winter. She didn’t mind her job at the Omni Hotel, since she found a lot of wonderful things.
She envied all the rich people. She watched them as they came and went in the hotel, and wondered at their lives. She wondered what it would be like to be so rich you could afford the rooms at the hotel. They all seemed so important and busy, and their clothes were just beautiful; not the normal rags she wore.
She rushed to clean the rooms, giving her a few moments to go through the guest’s belongings before she left. She enjoyed feeling the high-end materials used in their clothing, and marveled at the jewelry they left lying around. As though they didn’t care about it. Sometimes, she found items she knew would never be missed, like this lovely plum lipstick.
Rich people had so much, and she had so little. This trip would bring her to rights again, and she would, for a few days, enjoy being one of the beautiful people. Her mother accused her of being a lazy dreamer, but she wasn’t lazy at all. She worked hard in the hotel, cleaning other people’s messes. Why shouldn’t she be compensated for her work? Her mother knew nothing, and was an old-fashioned trout.
Finished with the dusting, Mavis look around room 601, making sure she’d done everything. Her hand patted her pocket containing the lipstick, and she turned and walked out the door. She’d even left an extra mint on the pillow as a thank you for the lipstick.
9 June
Chicago, Illinois
By the end of the second day of the conference, Miriam was feeling a little queasy. She suspected it was the dinner: clams. She loved shellfish, but sometimes they didn’t love her back. Her headache hadn’t abated, her body ached, and the cough was getting stronger.
She’d been glad to have got through her spiel; she’d coughed through much of her monolog, and kept sipping water to calm it down. Now, though, her cough was constant. She’d checked the thermostat in the conference room; it had been set on seventy-two, but Miriam had felt it was much warmer than that. Going to her room’s thermostat, she turned it down to sixty-eight.
Her lower gut knotted up, and she rushed to the bathroom and flipped open the toilet seat. Just in time! Diarrhea shot out. She groaned, bending forward, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Great, she thought. She’d have to call down to the concierge and have Imodium or something sent up. Pain gripped her once more, and she clenched her eyes and her teeth, trying not to cry out.
The sweat was making rivulets down her body, and her forehead was damp around her hairline. She called down for the medication and returned to the bathroom. She felt so miserable, she seriously considered skipping the last day. Turning on the tap, she splashed cold water onto her face, then patted her face dry. Hearing knock at the door, she opened it slightly and a young woman in uniform handed over a small bottle of Imodium. Miriam thanked the girl, handed her a tip, and closed the door.
Going back into the bathroom, she picked up a glass tumbler and filled it with tap water. Popping two of the tablets in her mouth, she drank it down, the water cold in her throat. She looked down into the tumbler and was surprised to see pink in the water. She leaned into the counter to get closer to the large mirror.
Pulling up her lip, she found her gums were bright pink; she pressed a finger to them and felt stinging. There was a slight indent in the gum where her finger had been, and what looked like blood. Why are my gums bleeding? What the hell was in that seafood?
She opened her travel-sized mouthwash and swished it around in her mouth. It stung like crazy, but after she spat it into the sink, her gums felt better, And she saw no blood. Sighing heavily, she undressed and began to fill the tub. Her body was so achy and stiff. She wondered if she was catching the flu. It couldn’t be from the flight, considering she’d already had a sore throat before the flight.
She went to the mini-fridge and got a vodka and club soda. Mixing them in one of the hotel tumblers, she brought her drink to the bathroom and set it on the side of the tub. If she weren’t feeling any better by morning, she’d skip the conference and book a flight home. She didn’t want to remain in Chicago any longer if she were going to be ill. It was a waste of money, and she’d rather be miserable in her own home with Miss Piggy by her side.
Arlington, Texas
Hopping up and down, Ally’s small arms waved wildly as her mother, Patricia, danced the birthday card over the little girl’s head, grinning as she did so.
“Give her the card, Mommy,” Zoe laughed, coming over to put her arms around Patricia as Patricia finally handed their daughter the card. “It’s from Granny Miriam.”
Ally kissed the card, then ripped the envelope open, squealing when a crisp new five-dollar bill floated to the floor. Zoe picked her daughter up and whirled her around, kissing her flushed cheeks. Patricia grabbed her daughter’s bare feet and began to nibble on them. Ally shrieked with delight.
Zoe’s brown eyes crinkled with joy. She couldn’t believe how fast their little girl was growing up. She would be starting kindergarten in the fall. She and Patricia had been talking lately about having another baby. Zoe wasn’t sure she was up for it, but looking at her daughter, she felt a thrill at the thought of another baby.
Life was busy with her home business and Patty working odd shifts at the hospital. When was a good time to try for another baby? And did she want to start that all over? Granny Miriam would certainly be happy. She was due for another visit near the end of August, just before school started.
Perhaps later, she and Patty would talk about another baby. They loved Ally so much, and she completed their world. Looking around, she started picking up toys. Ally’s birthday guests would be there in an hour, and she expected sugar highs all round.
Laughing, she and Patty took the child’s hands and swung her up between them. Yes, Zoe thought, another baby to love is just what we need. It was going to be a great day.
London, England
Terry stood by the window of his elegant room in the Chesterfield Mayfair. It was well-appointed, and in a prime location. The scent of beeswax and lilac filled the room. He walked over to the king bed and kicked his shoes off. His feet sank into the Turkish carpet. Vibrant, its rich colors complementing the cream brocade of the bedspread. Grabbing the crystal tumbler of single malt whiskey, he sat back among the crisp snow-white pillows propped against the large ornately carved headboard.
He was spending a few days in London to close on a deal for some property up north. He was tired, but happy. He couldn’t believe he’d run into Miriam, at the airport of all places. Christ. She hadn’t changed much over the years; or if she had, he hadn’t noticed. She’d fairly sparkled, her eyes bright, her skin lovely. The feel of her had brought back memories.
He’d been twenty and crazy mad in love with her. But she hadn’t loved him, or at least, not as much as he’d loved her. They’d been in college; it had been an intense love affair for him. Their passion was white hot, and every chance they got, they were together. It was as though she were his very breath. She’d been incredibly beautiful then, tall and lithe, her long blonde hair nearly to her hips.
She’d broken it off after a year, and he’d been devastated. He had transferred to UCLA soon after, and hadn’t looked back. He’d never gotten over her, if he
was honest with himself, and had instead poured himself into his school and work. Sure, he’d dated, and had even considered getting married a couple of times, but none of the women could compare to his Miriam. So he’d spent his years alone, surrounding himself with friends and business acquaintances.
Over the years, he’d thought about her, and had even looked her up on social media once or twice, but hadn’t found her. He’d wondered at her life, and thought she might have married and had a bunch of kids. She’d been driven back then, and it looked like she still was. And what about her job? She hadn’t mentioned it. He had thought by now he’d be over her, but the chance meeting had brought up so many memories and feelings that he knew he’d never gotten over her.
He heard the beeping of a taxi and walked to the window and looked down. The street was jammed with small trucks, taxis, and people. The air quality in London was dubious at best, and he cleared his throat. It seemed the air here certainly didn’t agree with him, as his throat felt a little raw, and he had one hell of a headache behind his eyes.
With his business, he was always flying here or there, both international and intercontinental. It was all part and parcel to his company. It took its toll sometimes, and his body paid for it.
Perhaps he’d just order in for dinner and rest up for tomorrow’s appointment. He took another sip of his whiskey, the drink biting, and sucked in a breath. He thought again about Miriam. When he got home, he would ring her up. Maybe visit St. Louis. For now he had another day here in London, then onto Germany. It would be a full week of traveling around Europe, and hopefully very profitable.
He rubbed the tumbler across his forehead. It felt as though the headache was trying to wrap around his head and rip it off. Terry called down to the concierge for some aspirin; the dry air from the flight had set the headache to booming behind his eyes, and it hadn’t stopped for two days.