“Is this the drugs talking?” he asked Cynthia. “Because you are making no sense.”
“I’ve heard her making no sense,” Emma chimed in with a laugh. “This ain’t that.”
Charlie looked back at Emma, then at Cynthia, who smiled.
“Okay. Maybe you can tell me in more detail when you’re feeling better. Is there anything I can get you? Do you want your phone?” Charlie said.
“That’s a good idea. I can do some hospital selfies and get lots of support from strangers on the Internet.”
Charlie looked at her. Cynthia could tell he didn’t know if she was joking or not. She stared back, enjoying the moment. Finally, he shrugged and rifled through her things until he found the phone.
“Thanks, Chuck,” Cynthia said. “It’s getting late. You should go.” He lingered, and she reached for his hand. She looked up at him and took a deep breath while she squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Charlie. It means a lot to me that you came.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You get better,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“No,” she replied. “Unless I’ve lost track, I think tomorrow is Friday. You need to be at the restaurant. I’ll be fine.” She turned to Emma. “You too, Miss. You’ve spent more than enough time here. You need to get back to your life. I’ll be fine. All I do is sleep anyway.”
“You sure?” Emma said. “You sound sure.”
Cynthia nodded. “Go. Both of you. I’ll text you when they let me out of here.”
Charlie helped Emma get to standing and then helped her collect all her things. The two left the room, and Cynthia watched them leave. She felt loved. She felt relieved. But mostly she felt sleepy. She closed her eyes.
TWENTY-FIVE
“So it’s a little like a never-ending case of PMS,” Cynthia explained.
Charlie stopped chewing and looked at her, puzzled.
Cynthia smiled. “The steroids have me all bloated. I’m retaining water like the Hoover Dam. And I’m constantly hungry—thank you for bringing lunch, by the way. Sorry if I accidentally eat the dishes. And my hormones are going bonkers, so I just ricochet between horny and sad and angry. I’m a real treat. You’re so lucky!” She squeezed his hand.
“Sounds delightful. So how long will you be on those?”
“I’m basically done now. They were there to keep my brain from swelling up, and that risk is over. But you can’t just go cold turkey off of them, I guess, so they have me tapering down the dose now.”
“So other than that? How’s your recovery going?” he asked.
“It’s all going according to plan,” she said with a shrug. “I finally started using my own shower. I’ve been using Emma’s because she has a stool in there and a detachable shower head.”
“I can see how you’d need that. Being so horny and everything.”
Cynthia stared at Charlie and then burst out laughing as she kicked him under the table. “Oh you are bad! No, silly. I needed it because I couldn’t stand up long enough to take a shower.”
“You could have called me. I’d be happy to help you out in that regard.”
“I’m sure, you lecherous old man.” Cynthia sipped her lemonade. “I really can’t imagine what it would be like trying to get over this if I didn’t live in a hotel. I’m supposed to change my bedding like every day. Can you imagine doing that much laundry yourself?”
“No. No I cannot,” he said.
“Right? But the girls are used to just doing that every day anyway. So they put my room in the rotation with the guest rooms, and boom. Done.”
“That really is lucky. I get the impression the people here really care about you.”
Cynthia smiled. “I think you’re right.”
“So, are you ready to tell me why your tumor was named Evan?”
Cynthia chewed awhile and thought. “I don’t know. Now that I understand what was actually happening, I feel really stupid about the whole thing.”
“I’m never going to stop pestering you about this, so you might as well get it over with,” he said with a crooked grin.
“Oh, fine. It started as these weird hyper-realistic dreams. The settings felt real. The emotions felt real. They would usually come right around daybreak, so they’d kind of linger in my mind. You know how the dreams you wake up from do that?”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, so they’d do that. Linger. And… I don’t know. They weren’t normal dreams. It was like someone was sending me a message.”
“Evan,” he said.
“Yeah. So I’m going to leave out the reason his name is Evan. You’re going to have to get me really drunk sometime to tell you that half of the story. But now I think the dreams were my brain’s way of telling me something was wrong. But I totally misunderstood what it was saying.”
“How’s that?” Charlie asked.
“Okay, so now I think my brain was saying, ‘Hey laaaa-dyyyy! There’s a tumor in here! Get to a fucking dooooc-toooor.’” Cynthia paused as Charlie laughed at her Jerry Lewis impression. “But when it was happening, I thought it was some… I don’t know… a higher power or something? Like the universe was telling me to get the fuck out of my rut. That I was not living the right life.”
“Interesting. And that’s why you’re here now? Instead of in Portland?”
“Indirectly. It’s not like I woke up from a dream and said, ‘I’m going to go be the concierge at a small inn,’ but yeah. It shook me loose from my moorings and I drifted awhile and washed up here.”
Charlie studied her, but said nothing.
“What?” she asked.
“You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”
He had a serious look. Cynthia felt like she was seeing someone having a revelation. “No,” she said.
“Yes. I just… I don’t know. You are just this amazing person. And I don’t mean because you’re so damn pretty. No offense, but lots of girls are pretty. You have a complexity that I’ve never seen in another person. At least, not up close. Not in a person I actually know.”
Cynthia was blushing. She didn’t have the first notion of how to respond to that.
Charlie squeezed her hand. “There are these layers to you. Just as I think I’m getting a handle on who you are, you open up and show me something I totally didn’t see coming.”
She fought against her urge to make a joke. She wanted more than anything to make a joke. To erect a little wall of humor to close up whatever layer she had opened. But her gut told her to suck it up. “You’re making me feel a little vulnerable, Mister.”
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Charlie said. “I’ll ignore the fact that you’ve been eating garlic, and you can ignore the fact I’ve been eating goat cheese.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied.
Charlie stood and came around to Cynthia’s side of the table. He took a knee and took her face in his hands. They shared a long, deep, intimate kiss. He ran his hands down over her shoulders and then down her arms. Cynthia looked into his eyes. She saw sincerity looking back at her.
¤
“Billy, can you come over here?” Cynthia called from her desk.
Billy bounced over to her. “What can I do you for?” he asked.
Cynthia looked toward the stairs and spoke in a hushed tone, “Billy, I’m pretty sure that hipster in room six is vaping. Can you go on up there, knock on the door, and if it seems to you that I’m right, have a little man-to-man with him? Explain that the health department makes the rules, we don’t. That there’s a smoking area in the back yard, which is as close as we’re allowed to have it to the main entrance. That sort of thing?”
“Sure thing, boss,” he said. “How’d you find out? Another guest rat him out?”
Cynthia sighed. “No. It’s a side-effect of my surgery. I have Spidey senses now.”
Billy looked at her wide-eyed, “Really?”
“Yeah. My sense of smell is so strong now… I can sm
ell the future, Billy.” She stared at him with a serious expression.
He stared back, mouth agape. Cynthia smiled. “I’m just messing with you,” she said.
“Oh.” Billy looked crestfallen.
“Just about the future thing. I do have a crazy strong sense of smell though. The other day I was driving on the 101, and I smelled cigarettes, and then I saw a person throw a butt out the window three cars ahead of me.”
“Wow!”
“It’s probably the worst of all the superpowers,” Cynthia said.
“I don’t know. X-ray vision seems like it’d be cool, but then you think, it doesn’t just let me look in your drawers, but like, it let’s me look in his,” he nodded his head toward a large, pale, elderly man in the corner. “Ew.”
Cynthia chuckled. “I see what you mean. I suppose every super power has its plusses and minuses.”
“Yeah, probably true.” Billy looked lost in thought.
“Earth to Billy. Room six?” Cynthia said.
“Oh! Yeah. On it, boss.” He strode over to the stairs and up toward the guest rooms.
Celita came over and plopped down in the guest chair across the concierge desk. “My tía María Luisa had that after her babies was born.”
“Had what?” Cynthia said.
“Super nose. She got all bitchy about it. Like, complaining about all these smells that only she was smelling. We call her tía María la nariz Luisa,” Celita laughed. Cynthia stared.
“The nose,” she said, gesturing with her hand to show an elongated nose.
“I’ll try not to be bitchy about it, I swear. It’s really weird. I kind of hope things go back to normal. I’m waking up at six every morning because I smell when Emma starts making the breakfast buffet.”
“Yeah, that’s rough. You poor thing. You know I get up at four to get the bus over here, right?” Celita asked with a wry smile.
Cynthia was mortified. “Oh, geez. I’m sorry. Check my privilege?”
Celita stuck out her lip and bobbed her head from side-to-side. “Nah, I just messing with you Tía. You alright.”
Cynthia smiled and sat back in her chair. “Busy week,” she said.
“I hate wedding season,” Celita agreed. “The guests are all so young, you know? And they party and make a mess of everything. I much rather have those wine snobs heading up to Napa. I go in their room, and I’m like—did Nina already do this one? The bed is made and the towels are all nice. But then, I look at the toilet paper and it’s like normal, not folded, and I’m all… damn—these people are just freaky clean.”
Cynthia smiled and nodded.
“So when we gonna go dancing again?” Celita asked, punctuating the question with a sexy little wiggle. “That was a fun night!”
“Really? I thought I kind of weighed you down,” Cynthia said. “What with my old person bedtime and all.”
“You ain’t old, Tía. You… sophisticated is all. And yeah, we had a good time. You had a fine boy talking you up all night, too, if I remember.”
“I did,” Cynthia nodded. “Although I think maybe I don’t need to go dancing for that now.”
“Ooh! Tía got herself a boy-friend,” Celita teased. “Is it Frenchy?”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t say he’s my boyfriend just yet. But I think there’s something there. He came to check on me in the hospital.”
“Get out! He did?” Celita asked.
“He did.”
“Damn, Tía. That’s some serious shit. Frenchy checking up on you, like you’re all that.”
Cynthia smiled.
“Well alright. But if you wanna go dancing, just to go dancing, then we can still go,” Celita said.
“When I’m a little more healed,” Cynthia replied. “It’s still a bit soon after surgery for anything like that.”
“Okay. Well I better get back to it. Take it easy.” Celita stood and headed for the guest rooms.
Cynthia watched her leave. Then she turned her attention back to her computer. She was right in the middle of something when the smell of vaping had distracted her. She had no idea what. She puzzled over the tabs she had open in her browser and tried to figure out what the hell she had been doing. This was another side-effect of the surgery she hoped would be gone soon—scatterbrain.
TWENTY-SIX
“Where’s Billy at? Afternoon folks should be showing up any minute now,” Emma called over to Cynthia.
“He’s on vacation,” Cynthia replied.
“On what? Since when do we give Billy a vacation?”
“Paid vacation. Celita and Nina, too. All on vacation this week.”
“Did that brain surgeon pull out your common sense, along with Evan the Tumor? How do you think the two of us are going to manage alone? And since when do we give those kids paid vacation?”
“We can afford it. And the guests will clean up after themselves, I’m sure,” Cynthia said.
Emma stared at her slack-jawed. “You’re playing. What are you up to?”
The front door opened and two children ran in. Cynthia guessed they were around 8 and 10. “Grandma!” they both shouted, running around the front desk and tackling Emma.
“My babies! What are you doing here?” Emma cried out.
“Mommy and Daddy brought us!” the boy replied.
Emma crouched down and hugged the children. “I just can’t believe it,” she said as she held them much longer than they cared to be held. She got back to standing and came around the desk. The children’s parents were coming in the door carrying their bags. They dropped them inside the entrance and went to give Emma hugs. By this point the tears in her eyes had overflowed and were spilling down her cheeks.
“Cynthia,” Emma said after the hug, “this is Phillip, my oldest, and his wife Geraldine,”
The wife walked over and hugged Cynthia, “Everyone calls me Deena,” she said. “It was so great of you to arrange this. I’ve been on Phillip forever to get us over here, and then you called, and… well it’s about damn time!”
“You did this?” Emma asked Cynthia.
Cynthia smiled. “Happy birthday. And you must be Emma and Phillip?” she asked the kids.
“Yes’m,” young Emma replied.
“Did you know we call this place Phillips House now?” she asked the boy.
“Momma told me!” He put his shoulders back. “I’m in my house!” Emma laughed and his sister rolled her eyes.
Cynthia shook the elder Phillip’s hand. “Any trouble finding the place?”
He laughed. “It hasn’t been that long,” he said. “We grew up here, you know.”
“Oh, wait until you see all the changes miss Cynthia has made!” Emma shouted. “So, what’s your plan for rooms?” she directed to Cynthia.
“Phillip and Deena are going to be in room seven. The three kids will be across the hall in room eight,” Cynthia replied.
“Three kids?” Emma asked.
“Yes. Three kids. Matthew and Paula will be in nine, and Patrick will be in six.”
Emma’s eyes were wide. “They all coming? Today?”
“Yes ma’am,” Cynthia said. “I saw your birthday on the calendar a couple months ago and thought it was about time we got the band back together.”
“I… I just… I can’t believe it!” Emma still had tears streaming down her cheeks. The elder Phillip walked over to her and took her into a long embrace.
“Surprise!” Everyone turned to the door to see Emma’s daughter Paula and son-in-law Matthew struggling to get through the door with two large suitcases and a shy ten-year-old girl.
Cynthia went to the door and crouched down to shake the girl’s hand. “I’m Cynthia,” she said quietly. “I’m the concierge, so if there’s anything you need, you just let me know. What’s your name?”
“Madison,” the girl whispered.
“I’m pleased to meet you Madison.”
Around them everyone was shaking hands and hugging and otherwise getting reacquainted.
Cynthia and Madison stayed low, out of the melee. But soon the other two children swooped in and took Madison with them to go find their room.
“Do they need keys?” Emma called over to Cynthia.
“Nah. I opened up the four rooms.”
“When is Patrick coming?” Paula asked.
Cynthia shrugged. “No idea. Sometime today.”
Emma slumped into one of the couches in the lobby. She shook her head. “I just can’t believe this. All my babies home and I didn’t even know you was coming! Oh my goodness. What about dinner?”
“Reservation for all of us at Chez Claude,” Cynthia said. “At seven.”
“Goodness! Well I’d better get ready! I only have a couple hours!” Emma got up and shuffled off to her residence.
Cynthia went back to her chair at the concierge desk and watched as everyone headed off to their rooms.
¤
Claude personally led the group to their table in the back of the restaurant that evening. Emma was seated at the head of the table, and Phillip took the opposite end. Everyone else settled in, and Cynthia found herself on the corner between Phillip and an empty chair for Patrick. He had texted that he’d be late, and Cynthia had sent directions to the restaurant.
Cynthia felt a little out of place among the family members, as she picked out pieces of conversations. They were a loud bunch. As she lifted her menu to review the options, Phillip leaned toward her, holding his menu up to block them from view of the rest of the group. “So what’s the deal? Are we splitting the check, or…” he left the sentence hanging.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cynthia whispered back. “It’s taken care of.”
He looked from Cynthia to the menu and back. “Are you sure?”
She understood his concern. The prices at Chez Claude were not exactly low. “Yeah, I got this.”
Phillip continued holding the menu shield in place. “Jesus. How much is she paying you?”
Cynthia laughed. “Enough,” she said with a wink.
Phillip lowered the menu and exchanged a look with Deena, then leaned over and whispered in her ear. Deena looked at Cynthia and raised her eyebrows. Then she mouthed, “Thank you.”
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