Chapters 5 - 9
Ch. 5 A Familiar Feeling
The ice clinks in his glass as he swirls it around.
He stares at the center of the little whirlpool, drawn down and down and down until the clink of a lighter flicking shut draws him out of his daze. He looks over and she’s sitting next to him playing with her lighter. She’s watching him spin his glass. Her hair is piled atop her head again and her neck glistens from perspiration in the low light of the bar.
It's another humid day, the air lays like a wet blanket over everything. It drags on the guests. Even the shouts and splashes from the pool are subdued.
He thinks about the way her shoulders slope under her light sundress, about the way she leans ever so slightly against the bar.
He thinks she… he thinks… he becomes distracted by the smoke curling out from the lit cigarette perched ever so precariously in the holder, dangling like a second thought from her long fingers.
She holds his eyes as he glances up, and realizes he’s been staring.
He’s found himself watching her whenever she’s in the lobby or the bar or out by the pool. She feels familiar. Not as if he’s seen her before and can’t place her, but as if she is innately known by him and he can’t help but understand her completely. Everything she does feels like a reminder.
It’s all he can do to catch his breath sometimes.
Ch. 6 A Smoky Road
It’s the autumn and yellow and gold take over the foliage, covering the hills in umber.
Leaves drift down around him as he moves up the long winding country lane, shuffling his feet through the piled leaves; wshhhh, wshhhh, wshhhh.
The smell of woodsmoke drifts down with the breeze along with it the scent of wet leaves. A smell so uniquely, purely autumn that he takes a deep breath, holding the moment in his lungs.
The smell of smoke gets stronger as the breeze picks up and somewhere in his chest a pinprick of panic pokes through.
He shakes it off and looks up at the sun streaming through the trees that arch over the road. The warmth of the glow fills him with joy. Autumn always does that for him.
The smoke solidifies the sun beams into pillars around him and the panic bubbles slightly higher.
And the breeze brushes against his neck, chilling him to the bones.
He squashes down the panic again, shaking his head to clear it.
The path stretches in front of him full of smoke and golden sun. It is dead quiet, and he stares down the road.
There is a crunch of leaves behind him and a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around and…
Startling awake ,Jay sits up in bed, the sheets tangled around him in a sweaty mass.
He gasps under the weight of the dream, and the smoke that fills his room chokes him.
Ch. 7 A Glimpse of Red
He stumbles over to the small bar in his room and shakily pours himself a drink. The bright moonlight washes everything into black and white. He chokes on his drink at the flash of red on the balcony, only catching a glimpse through the long curtains.
They billow in the breeze, shifting the shadows across the parqueted floor.
He sits heavily on the floor among the broken glass, dropping the half full tumbler to the floor where it shatters, slipping from his fingers. And his hands shake.
Ch. 8 A Sword of Damocles
It’s the late evening and the hotel lobby is full of people. One of the residents is throwing some party, but Jay only sits in the corner of the bar sipping on a dirty vodka martinis, chasing away the last dregs of his dream.
The small band in the corner is singing Jimmy Scott’s If I Ever Lost You and the song drags Jay further into his drink.
He sits there with the glasses, piling more and more next to him until the bar is empty. The bartenders have even left, and the room is dark save for the single light left on next to him.
Jay stands abruptly, knocking the stool to the ground and stumbles his way over to the piano. He sits down heavily on the bench and lays his fingers onto the keys. They gleam in the low light.
He presses his fingers to them, slight enough for them not to sound beside for a faint thrum. But then he begins to trace the opening notes of I Watch You Sleep, by Shirley Horn, humming along.
“Or have I made, another sad mistake,” he sings softly, and his eyes drift closed.
She sits down at the bench next to him.
And maybe it’s the gin or maybe, he thinks, just the warm night air, but Jay’s breath catches in his throat and he finds himself saying, “at night, I often imagine a sword hanging by a thread above my bed. I lay staring up at it as it rotates slowly, the point just hovering over my head. And somedays, I can't help but hope the thread will break.”
Her hands gently replace his on the keys and she sings “If there's a cloud above, If it should rain we'll let it, But for tonight, forget it.”
And he buries his head in his hands and weeps.
Ch. 9 A Caring Porter
The porter helps him upstairs after that.
"It's alright, Mr. Jay," he reassures, "You're alright, Mr. Jay."
He makes sure Jay is back in his rooms safely and then leaves him there and then Jay is alone again.