In the Tears of My Saints

Chapter 16: In the Tears of My Saints

Friday: 7:26 p.m.

It’s already dark. This is surprising considering how early it is. I move across the street quickly and enter the hotel through a side door. I didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked. Must be anxious. All afternoon I have been going over different strategies for tonight in my mind. The more I do this, the more nervous I get. This is especially ridiculous when I remember that, eventually, I’ll just “wing it.” I do every time. Ridiculous. Knowing that Esther would be staying here several days ago, I had made it a point to memorize the floor plan of the building. This makes finding my way around relatively easy, even in such a large establishment.

I arrive at number 32 at 7:30 sharp and hit the buzzer several times in quick succession. Then, for some reason, I follow this immediately with a light tap. Over-kill. She answers quickly—almost too quickly, as if she had been sitting by the door waiting for me. This thought causes the uncomfortably excited sensation in my stomach to become even more intense. Seeing her does nothing to alleviate this pressure. I think it’s her eyes mostly. They are the first things I see as she quickly opens the door, and, she uses them to pull me through the entrance and into her room. I expected more from a place like this. Hope she’s comfortable.

“Hi.” She stares up at me almost shyly.

“Hi,” I respond with the most reassuring smile I can muster. “How are you?”

“Well—surprisingly well. I slept like a little baby—and am now so refreshed.”

I chuckle at her cutesy tone but keep mine serious. “I’m so glad to hear it. I . . .”

She interrupts me. “What did you do today?”

“I slept.”

“Oh, me, too!”

I nod, chuckling again. “That’s what I hear. You did it like a baby.”

“Yes.” She smiles widely. “I am like a baby. Here, feel.” She pulls my hand to her face and rubs it lightly against her cheek. The skin is beautifully soft and somehow electric. I swallow hard, but nod matter-of-factly.

“I now know that your cheek is freakishly soft.” 

She laughs. “Babies are not freaks. They are simply very small, oddly shaped people.”

“I see.”

There’s a pause in which we just look at each other. It is not in the least uncomfortable. One second shy, the next inexplicably confident. How strange.

“How do I look?” She does a swift side-step as if on display.

I look her up and down very carefully before responding. This seems to amuse her.

“You look very nice.”

“You look very nice.” She mimics my tone and then giggles. At herself, apparently? “That’s not what you say when a lady asks you how she looks. You say something like ‘Amazing!’ or ‘Fabulous!’ or ‘Breath-taking!’” You know, something complimentary.”

“I see.” I pause to collect my thoughts. “My apologies. May I try again?”

She attempts to look offended. “I suppose, so long as you’re more specific as to what you like in particular.”

“I’ll do my best.” I look her up and down once more.

She watches me carefully this time around, and then raises one eyebrow skeptically. “What? You didn’t see anything the first time?”