Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

Chapter IV: A Soundless Three-Minute

4. A Soundless Three-Minute

It was already past 8 o'clock when my daughter and I checked in a friendly three-star hotel.

     What else could I do? Where elsewhere could we be? We had no property in the mainland. I had no options but hotels— as long as it's bearable and at least good for one night, my daughter and I had to stick with it. Bearable, but must be a nice place and friendly. They always are a requirement. No matter how foreign-like this process of hotel checking-in is to me now, considering I had been fond of living in an apartment and our own house for years, the memory of registering inside seemed to have faded in the background; gone already. But I had no choice. I had to find somewhere—a place before a deeper dark—where we could stay. Even just for the night.

     In the hotel, right after we entered, the front desk clerk greeted us with a smile. The clerk had this face similar to any clerk who would professionally appear amiable to coming-and-going guests. In short, these are found in settings like restaurants; to costumers. The clerk stood by the time he saw us entering the building, like it was effortless and wordless he wouldn't bite. The clerk then introduced us of the whole premise's functionality, of how things go smooth here inside. In his speech, it involves services they offer and the contents of the hotel rooms— in two minutes, he did explain all necessary things. Completed in its shortest summarization. So, of course, I absorbed everything. How this hotel functions, everything. And yes, I guess, if I base my expectations to his wordings, this could be really a nice place to stay. This hotel.

     Agreed. When transaction at the front desk was done, the clerk summoned one of the porters through a simple call. He did it through the telephone near him. He picked it up and called. Kiki and I waited for less than a minute—of which in truth it was a quick response—just when the assigned porter came. And like the front desk clerk, the newly-arrived hotel porter was wearing the same clothing as his. In colors of black and blue. The porter insisted to help me carry my baggage; I accepted. I thought a small assistance might help an aged man like me, taking into account how my shoulders appeared to be tiring quickly. I had weak shoulders now. By this point, with my baggage and Kiki's backpack on his carry, the porter started to lead the way overheads. On the way up. Toward the room we were assigned where we could rest.

     And then, we entered inside the elevator. I saw the porter pushed numerical 13th button, and so the elevator rose us up until the 13th floor. When floor reached, the door opened, and only by then, we exited the platform to take another minutes to walk directly to the assigned room. To the room we paid for. In no time, when all things were guided and settled, the porter said, "Have a nice rest, sir. And to you, little girl."

     That would be it, his first term of aid as hotel porter to us new guests. A smooth run, and not much of an inconvenience. However, in way unknown to me, he remained to let his presence visible to our presences. He waited by the doorway standing tall, like he was waiting for something.

     "Oh," I realized. That time I remember my wife, Annalise, and the time we had in her favorite restaurant. At the end of our lunch, she left a tip for the waiter who had served us the delicious dishes. And now, it must be the case of why this hotel porter, obviously, had kept waiting by the doorway. He was waiting for tip. It could only be the reason. "I see."

     I reached for my wallet, pulled some cash and then gave it the hotel porter. A hundred and quarter of Philippine Pesos, if my eyes were correct. It was color violet and red and orange. One hundred and then seventy. So by the time he received it, already he left us with a smile similar to the front desk clerk, down the first floor. "Is she your daughter, sir?" he inquired, pertaining to Kiki who—already—had jumped on one of the beds inside the room. I nodded yes to the porter, that she is my daughter. "I see, well... goodnight to you, sir," he repeated, "and to you, little girl."