Because the Night

diego at the end of the world

There are things about the Highland Mountain House that Lily wished she'd known before entering the first time that day in June.

Well, technically not the first time. She had been to Highland when she was a baby. She had been when her family was a different family — happy, and with cash to burn. She'd never been old enough to remember that family, except through her mother's stories.  

So, there were memories of Highland's antique carpets that blanketed the long, winding hallways in a collage of flowers. 

And there was no preparing for the floor itself, which seemed to be half alive. Through the carpet, she could feel unevenness of the floorboards, which were so old they stopped trying to be sturdy. With every step, the wooden planks beneath her sang. It gave her the impression of being on a ship, but a ghost ship. She was going somewhere, somewhere like the past.

In fact, Highland Mountain House gave off the distinct aura of being not of this world, 2019, but a sliver of a lost one. As her mom checked in eagerly, Lily began to wander. Across from the check-in counter was a large, dark-wood room that looked out onto the lake. There were no TVs, no entertainment other than board games. The main purpose of this room seemed to be sitting and watching.

Lily had not sat and watched for a long time. Her first thought was: this is going to be a boring trip. Her second thought: it might be good for me. Her third: wow, do thoughts like these mean I'm getting old?

Some old people, granted, were sitting in the rocking chairs that looked into Highland's compact, but impressively sparkly, lake. The water has pooled there when a glacier melted a long time ago. From the distance she could hear the yelps of swimmers.

The last time Lily had swum in a lake it was at summer camp in New York State. She was swimming across the lake — the class's annual challenge, to leave the swimming area and go into the wild. Her foot struck something that felt like a rock. But a floating rock. Her brain jolted at the thought. How could that be? When she put it together, she nearly stopped swimming, stopped moving entirely. A snapping turtle! She bolted to the other side and didn't swim in the murky depths again. From then on she preferred pristine chlorinated pools, where the dangers at least would not be in the form of wildlife.

There were no snapping turtles at Highland, but she didn't know that yet. There were other dangers, of course. There were other ways of being knocked off the course.

Lily was walking towards hers.

From the lake room she walked out back to reception. "I'm going to wander," she told her mom, taking big loping steps.

"Fine. Meet me at 468," Lucy said.

Lily nodded. She felt like a kid. She still had a time and place attached to her body. Be here at this time. Do this now.

So she took off down the long hallway, stuffed inside a building that looked like many buildings sewn together. As she passed into a new section the hallway's vibe changed. First the time walls were yellow. Then she turned toward the right and the halls were brown.

Along the way she passed groups of people who had to be here for tango week. They were universally older, jovial, enjoying this small break from reality. They were also all couples.

Lily couldn't imagine herself twirling in their arms. Not that Colin ever would've come here, no. Colin, famously, did not dance. Not even at their graduation party, when she begged in front of their friends. Lily hated that she was reduced to begging for scraps of affection with Colin. And yet because he was so stingy with his love it did make the victories taste even sweeter. It was a hard addiction to break. She might not have been able to, had graduation not carried her away on its big winged body.

Yes, she sometimes imagined graduation to be a Phoenix.

Finally she got to the end of the hotel. It felt like a mile of walking.

At the end of the hallway, there was a small door that led onto a porch. She opened the door.

He was sitting there, feet kicked up on the plank. He stared out into the forest. Did everyone in this place just sit and watch all day?

At the sound of the light door's creak he turned around. He stared at her. From her face, he decided what to say next. It was obvious he wouldn't have said this to just anyone.

"You caught me," he said.

He, Diego, was older than Lily. Not that he looked much older. But the confidence in his deep voice gave it away. He didn't doubt himself when he said hello.

Lily was younger than Diego. She still doubted herself.

"I did," she said. "I reached the end of the world, and I found company."

Is that a weird thing to say? She said it before she could stop herself. But he must've gotten what she meant because he laughed. The laugh was something.

"First time here?" He asked, still twisted around the chair.

"How could you tell?"

He shrugged. "No one comes all the way to end of the hotel unless they're exploring, and only first timers explore."

"That's sort of pessimistic. I hope I always explore."

"Look, this is how it works. You only get a few days off a year, right? So you want to so exactly what you know you already like. People come here, they cram in their days with the good old things they did last year, they stuff themselves on food — you have to try the mashed potatoes by the way, they are actually made in heaven and we get them imported — and then they leave feeling satisfied. I can't blame them! But they certainly don't come to this little porch at the end of the world when there's the Lake Room. Which is why I come."

Lily nodded. A bleak portrait of adulthood, but it made sense: for many people, fun is what they know is already fun.

"Why do you know so much about Highland?" She asked.

With that, he stood up to reveal the many hidden inches that had been curled up on that rocking chair. The chair was still swinging, hitting his long legs. He must've been 6'4", or something else alarmingly tall.

Lily felt the words leave her throat. What could she offer this tower of a man? What would he do when she found out what she was: Aimless?

"I'm Diego," he said, putting out his hand. "I work at this fine establishment."

Lily's hand stood limply at her side. Move, hand! She commanded. It would not move.

"I promise, my hand doesn't bite."

Even more embarrassed, she reached out to him. "See?" He said, his hand in hers. "All good."

Then he did something strange.

He lifted their hands in the air and then pointed her arm toward and angle. As if she was supposed to spin. So awkward. But she found herself doing it — turning around.

"I'm Diego, and I dance here."