Sigh, Alaska: a short story novel

Richard Sutton

Richard Sutton surveyed the second of three living rooms at the Northern Lights Hostel in Anchorage, Alaska, and thought he had an interesting group ready for Winter Community this year. Some of them had stayed during the summer. Others had only arrived a day or two before. Richard knew some of them wouldn't make it past December; there was usually a great exodus just before Christmas.

"Alright, I'm glad we're gathered here. As you know, you've all applied to be a part of Northern Lights Hostel's Winter Collective." Richard started and gestured to the three people sitting next to him. "You've met the hostel staff that will be on duty from 6pm to 11pm on a rotating basis."

Sitting next to him was Wendy, the hostel manager, and Summer and Ethan, the other house parents. Wendy seemed like the least likely of everyone in the group to be there, but she was good with the books and had a bachelor's in hospitality management. Her cat eye tortoise shell glasses gave her the airs of a student who loved to keep her nose pressed up against the pages of a book, which was fitting, as she was also there to start on her master's in Business. He figured she wanted one last adventure before she settled for something a little more high end than a hostel, and who was he to deny her such an opportunity?

Summer had stayed during the summer a few times while exploring the great state of Alaska, and when she asked for the job, he knew she'd be good for the winter crowd. Summer was easily approachable but not too exuberant. Her very relaxed manner matched well with the vibe of the Hostel. She was tall, and thick and adopted the rugged outdoors style that was so popular in Alaska with ease.

Then there was Ethan. Ethan would be a crap shoot, as far as Richard was concerned. He hired him over the internet, sight unseen. While Richard had several applicants for the position, he just didn't meet enough with the right kind of spark. It's a special sort of person who can assist him in managing the hostel, but also who can make it through the harsh winters in Alaska. Ethan had only been in Anchorage for four days and on the job for half of that time. When he finally arrived, Richard's previous assessment of him took a major hit. Ethan clearly had just graduated from college, which wasn't a bad thing except he still looked like a child who recently started dressing himself. His shirts were too big, his cargo pants were well worn, and his collection of Rastafarian style hats were just a little bit worrisome.

"I think it would be a good idea to go ahead and introduce ourselves real quick. As you all know, I'm Richard and I'm the owner of this hostel. I've owned The Northern Lights Hostel for about 15 years now. I got started after retiring from being a deputy sheriff down in Missouri. I wanted to do some traveling, stayed at this Hostel and got to be good friends with the owners. They wanted to retire soon so I thought, 'Hey why not buy the hostel?' I've been running it ever since. We've had some rough spots, but in the last six years or so, we've really cleaned up the place and it's become the premium spot for hostelers in the Anchorage area. We're featured in several guidebooks, plus even more websites."

Richard looked around the room and saw that a few faces looked impressed. Some though, looked positively bored. He decided that some of the ground laws - rules, technically- would need to be established before moving forward. Richard knew from some of those faces there was bound to be trouble this winter, and to be honest he just didn't know if he was up for it anymore.

"I would like to take a minute to let you know that there are rules for Winter Collective and they really must be followed. The first and biggest is, No Alcohol on the property. I don't care if you come back drunk, so long as you didn't get drunk here. If I find out there is been drinking on the property, you will be asked to leave." Richard knew he could be a very intimidating man and used that to his advantage. As a former deputy sheriff, Richard had zero tolerance for the abuse of drugs or alcohol. It wasn't that he was completely unaware of the lifestyles of hostels in general; he just wanted to maintain a clean and safe environment and he knew how quickly introducing some alcohol could make a good time go bad.

"The next most important rule is Do Not Disturb Quiet Time. Quiet time is from 11pm to 6am. If we get complaints about noise, we will ask you to leave. The third most important rule is; Do your chores. Yes, please clean up after yourself, but also understand that you have a weekly chore to complete and they'll rotate. If you do not do your chores, you will be asked to leave. Is that clear?"

Richard waited until every headed in the room nodded in agreement. Clapping his hands, he looked toward Wendy. She smiled politely in return. Gesturing to the woman next to Wendy, Richard said, "Alright Alyssa, why don't you go ahead and introduce yourself, and then we'll start to go around the room."

"Hello, everyone! I'm Alyssa King. I've done Winter Collective for about four years now, and I'm excited to get to know you all." She shrugged and pushed her curly strawberry blond hair behind her back. Alyssa gazed over at Craig.

"Oh, okay. My turn. Hm, well, I'm Craig. I've been living at the hostel for about five or six years now. Summer and winter. I'm not really staff, but I help Richard out with building maintenance and stuff."

"Craig has been invaluable to me as a maintenance staff, but also as a good friend. I'm very glad to have him here again this year." Richard said. Richard knew that if Craig hadn't been around to help repair the gutters and repaint the trim, and to share his room when he was in town, he would've given up on the hostel a long time ago.

"Okay, me next!" Exclaimed Daphne. "I'm Daphne Miller. I just graduated from high school this summer and have been in Alaska for about three weeks. I work at The Light Horse Coffee."

Richard couldn't help but role his eyes at her a little. Daphne was young naive and some of the guys in this room, he knew, were kind of helpless when it came to young and naive. At the same time it was people like her that he loved having his hostel available for; a safe place to do some exploring in a new environment.

"Hi guys, I'm Lacy. I just got here a few days ago and don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm excited to be here because well, I can't go home." She coughed uncomfortably. "But enough about me. Who wants to go next?"

Richard listened as the rest of the group introduced themselves and found himself contemplating his near apathy. Usually Winter Collective was his favorite part of the year. During the summer people showed up and left at a lightning speed, just looking for a place to crash for the night, but Winter Collective really became a community. Some of his favorite memories happened during those dark snowy nights. As each person prattled on about being excited for being here, all he could think is, "I've got to get out of here. I can't do this anymore."

It shocked him to the core to realize his new feelings. As he drove back to his home on the outskirts of town, Richard felt frozen. Purchasing the hostel all those years ago had been impulsive on his part, and he was not one given to make impulsive decisions. But he didn't regret the decision did he? Can one regret a decision fifteen years in the making? No. He didn't regret buying the hostel. He was just restless. Stopping at the last light before the road turned into the highway, Richard looked up at the silhouette of the Chugiak Mountain Range. The ever-present mountains that never looked the same on any given day, suddenly didn't hold the same magic for him that they did for fifteen years.

What to do about it, though? Richard figured he could probably sell the hostel and find some new mountains to entertain him. God knew Alaska had enough of them. Or maybe he wanted to be a little closer to the water. There were hostels all over the state, and he knew enough about them now that he could open a new one if he so desired. The problem was, he didn't know what he desired.

Pulling up to his garage, he turned off his leased GMC Avalanche, hopped out and locked the doors before making his way up to the door of his condo. He walked inside, turning on lights as he entered the living room and then the kitchen.

Richard grabbed a can of beer from the refrigerator then leaned against the counter as he opened it and took a long pull from the cold can. His house felt chilly. He reminded himself to turn the heat up a little; it was clearly time. If Richard had his way, he wouldn't use the heat at all, but the pipes that kept water running efficiently through his house demanded the interior be kept at a toasty sixty-eight degrees or warmer, or they would protest by freezing and breaking, like they had his first winter in the condo, eight years previous.

It was days like this, Richard wished he wasn't a confirmed bachelor. He didn't mind hooking up with Craig or some of his other buddies occasionally, because partnered domestic life never suited him. Today though, he wished there was someone to talk to about his new distress about hostel ownership.

Maybe it wasn't owning the hostel that was the problem, he though as he sat back in his lazy boy chair and flicked on his fifty-two inch flat screen television. The channel was permanently glued to ESPN and he turned the volume down so he could continue thinking with minimal interruption.

Maybe he just needed a new environment. Hadn't the hostel owner in Seward mentioned selling? Richard knew during the summer with the tourists who skipped right down to the water he'd be flush to survive the winter comfortably. So many business owners would earn their keep during the summer in Alaska and then relax for the winter in Hawaii, or some other hot, tropical location where drinks served with umbrellas was standard operating procedure. But not Richard. The minute his plane showed him the view of all the mountains surrounding him on all sides as it made its final decent, he knew Alaska was his life's final destination.