Sure, he was curious about why Phillip wanted to see him. And yes, David wanted to see him almost more than he wanted anything else, but with Phillip came things he hadn’t wanted to think about. The words he’d said. The things he’d done. The accusations he’d made.
He’d never felt more ashamed of anything in his life, even while it was happening. But that hadn’t been enough to stop him, had it? Because Phillip was there and it was so easy to lash out at him, to make him take everything he hadn’t been able to give to anyone else. Phillip had been the only one who’d understood, and David had laid into him with all of his might.
So, no, part of him didn’t want to see Phillip. Part of him was so embarrassed at the way he’d acted that, even now, it caused the breath to hitch in his chest. He’d been scared, sure, and it hadn’t been getting any better, but Phillip had too. And it wasn’t fair of him to take it out on Phillip. An apology had burned like bile in the back of his throat, and he’d swallowed it back down.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The devastated look on Phillip’s face had shown him that.
Yes. He could leave.
But the why of it wouldn’t let him.
David had always been a curious sort. As a kid, he’d gotten into everything, wanting to know as much as he could. It’d followed him all his life, and even after it’d all gone to shit, that need still burned through him. If anything, it got worse, because if there was one thing David hated, it was the unknown. It was the mystery. It was the infuriating secrets that might never be whispered in his ear to give him the relief he wanted to be able to sleep the whole night through again without needing to pop an Ambien. And those Ambien nights were the worst, because he’d wake up the next day, buried deep in a fog that wouldn’t lift until late afternoon, and by then, he wouldn’t be quite sure how he’d gotten through the day.
Sometimes he thought about staying lost in that fog.
But those thoughts were far and few between. They only came on the bad days.
He’d been standing in front of the automatic doors for a good three minutes. The two women at the front desk were staring at him strangely.
Great. Just how he wanted this evening to start.
He forced a smile on his face, the one that usually charmed everyone who could see it.
They smiled back at him.
I could leave, he thought again.
Instead, he went inside.
Holiday music played on the speakers overhead. He shook his umbrella out in the vestibule, scuffing his feet along the mat on the floor. A second set of automatic doors opened, and the music became louder, a string rendition of “What Child is This?” and oh, the fucking irony. How it almost choked him.
His smile widened, brittle though it was.
“Welcome to Hotel Madison,” one of the ladies behind the front desk said, her voice bright and cheerful. Her makeup was perfectly applied, her hair buzzed closer to her scalp like kids these days did sometimes. She had wide, innocent eyes and the perfect customer service smile. A consummate professional. “Did you have a reservation to stay with us?” She looked down to see that he wasn’t carrying any luggage. “Or are you dining with us this evening?”
He said, “Dining,” but it came out rough and low, like he hadn’t spoken in a while. And that caused him to pause because when had he spoken to an actual person last? He worked from home, and everything was done via e-mail, so it wasn’t as if he had coworkers. He hadn’t picked up the phone when friends had called, so eventually they just stopped calling. Family? Not hardly. His brother was in Phoenix, and they hadn’t spoken in… Jesus. He couldn’t even remember how long.
He thought back, a little panicky, through Thursday (no) and Wednesday (no) and Tuesday (no) and Monday—yes. There it was. Monday. His weekly phone call to—Christ, that couldn’t be healthy because when had he spoken to someone before that? Groceries were self-checkout these days, limiting any interaction. He got coffee, but they knew him so well by now, he didn’t even have to say anything before they’d have his order up. He’d smile at the kids behind the counter and tip them nicely, but it could all be done without saying a damn thing. So, Monday had been the last time he’d actually spoken with another human being. And then the Monday before that. And possibly the Monday before that. Like clockwork. Every Monday at three, his call was expected. And unless there was an emergency, every Monday at three, his call was answered.
He’d texted with Phillip a few days ago, but other than that….
No wonder it sounded like he was choking on his words.
The women stared at him expectantly.
He smiled again. He wondered if he looked manic.
“Dining,” he said again, forcing the words to be louder. “Meeting a… friend. At the bar.”
The woman with the buzz cut nodded. “Of course. Please let us know if we can do anything to make your time at Hotel Madison a five-star experience.”
He didn’t know what to say to that.
So he didn’t say anything at all.
He stood there, dripping on expensive imported tile as if he was unsure of what he should do next.
Lady buzz cut started to look concerned.