I want her near me. I want to smell her.
I want to taste her. I want to feel her.
When I laugh, I want to laugh along with her. I don't want to do it through a screen.
“I'm going to really miss you,” I whisper into her ear. “I love you. Always.”
“I love you too. Always,” she says, swallowing back tears.
Finally, I pull myself away.
There isn't much of a line and she walks right up to the guard who checks IDs prior to going through the metal detector. When she puts her suitcase on the conveyor belt, she waves to me one last time. I wave back and then force myself to walk away.
The rest of the day is a blur. I want to go to bed and bury my face under the covers, but I force myself to go straight to the hotel from the airport.
I don't have any definitive work but being busy and distracted is a good thing. I know that if I were to go back to the boat, all I would feel is the emptiness of the place without her and I'm not ready for that.
Luckily, there is one emergency after another at the hotel. One of the guests is unhappy with their room and moves to another.
Another complaint about the dust on the ceiling fan and the general cleanliness of the room. I end up giving her a significant discount.
After checking on the issues, I realize that this place needs a lot of work. I walk through at least ten rooms, following a checklist, and find all sorts of problems.
Light bulbs missing.
Dust on top of the television.
I even check for stains with a UV light and find things on the headboard and the toilet seat that look a lot like semen.
I meet with everyone in one of the unused dining rooms and go over what I have found. None of the housekeepers are happy but only a few look embarrassed about their quality of work.
“I realize that this isn't so much your fault as it is the fault of the manager who is responsible for teaching you the right things to do and checking to make sure the room is completely clean. Now that Tim is gone, I'm going to be that person.”
I hand them each a laminated checklist and an erasable marker. They were supposed to get these already but I’m not sure if they ever did.
I ask them to go back through the rooms that are still unoccupied and check the work that they have all done.
About two hours later after they're done, I go through them as well and find a number of other problems.
We have another meeting and this time I actually walk into the rooms and show them all the issues that I have spotted. None of them seem happy to be there, but they are all getting paid for their time and I intend to get this issue sorted out.
Finally, another couple of hours later, I'm satisfied. I tell them that we will be doing this again tomorrow and the next day, but the more thoroughly the rooms are cleaned, the less time all of this will take up.
I finally get home around nine that evening, spent and exhausted. All of the work at the hotel has successfully taken my mind off Isabelle, but as soon as I'm back on the boat and smell the perfume that she accidentally left behind, everything comes back and I miss her more than ever.
9
Tyler
Isabelle texts when she gets in, but she's too tired to talk. I'm exhausted to, but I can't keep my eyes closed.
My mind keeps ping-ponging from one thing to another and all of the unknowns that I face in my future.
Then, around one in the morning, my phone rings. I answer it expecting it to be Isabelle.
I recognize his deep voice scratched up by years of smoking.
“I'm sorry to call you so late, but I wanted to tell you what happened myself. My attorney is going to call your attorney in the morning and notify him of the news.”
“What's wrong?”
“My sons and my wife had a hearing and they were successful in convincing the judge that I'm incompetent.”
“Oh my God, I'm really sorry.”
“Yeah, you work all your life and this is what happens. It's not good enough for them that they are going to inherit it all, they want it now.”
“What are you going to do? What does this mean?”
“Well, I can still walk around and I don't have to go live in some facility. My attorney tells me that I should be grateful for that.”
“That's good, I guess.”
“Not good enough,” Mr. Elliott says.
I hear the familiar ring of the phone and see that he is trying to connect via FaceTime. I accept.
He looks tired and worn out, not so much by a rough night but by disappointment. There are big bags under his eyes and his hair is tossed.
“The judge said that I can't make any more business decisions on my own and that he's giving power of attorney to my oldest son and my wife. Those two have never liked each other. The good thing is that I won't be around to see how that goes.”
“What do you mean?” I lean closer to the screen. My heart skips a beat.
Is he really saying what I think he’s saying?
Is he contemplating suicide? Is that why he's calling me?
“Don't look at me like that,” Mr. Elliott says with a smirk. “I'm not thinking about ending things. I have a long life to live.”
“Good,” I say, letting out a sigh. “I want you to know that a lot of people care about you.”
“Well, that’s a lie, but I do know that a few do.”
“So where are you now? Are you home?”
“Hell no,” he laughs and then coughs mildly, covering his mouth with his elbow.
When the coughing fit subsides, he looks up at me, raising one eyebrow, and says, “I'm in Paris.”
“You are in France?”
“I may not have access to my businesses anymore or any of the official money that my wife and I have shared, but luckily, I've been putting a little bit away over the last fifteen years just in case.”
“Just in case of this?”
“No, I couldn't have predicted this, but I did think that maybe one of these days I might just divorce her and having learned from what happened in my previous divorce, I started up a little secret fund to keep me in a lifestyle to which I have become accustomed.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, taken by surprise.
“I have to tell you, son, it's never not a good idea to have a secret Swiss bank account.”
I give him a nod, realizing that his reason for this call is not so much to complain or to warn me about what happened, but rather to brag.
“So, what are you doing in Paris?”
“Helene lives here. I told you about her.”
“Yes, the letters.”
“Her children are grown now and mine are backstabbing assholes, so I showed up here and I’m staying indefinitely.”
“Well… I'm happy for you,” I say which I'm certain is exactly what he wants to hear.
“Anyway, I know that it's late there and I don't want to keep you up, I just wanted to let you know myself, what happened at that hearing today.”
“I really appreciate it.”
“I know that fighting my sons on this deal is going to be an uphill battle and you really have to think on whether you're up to it. Maybe you should not be. Maybe it's better to just give them what they want and to walk away and live life on your terms. It's up to you.”