Hotel

I met a man not long ago and fell in love. As I was getting to know him, he told me that he worked and lived in a hotel. Everyone that he loved lived in this hotel of his and he hoped that eventually I would as well. When the day came for me to move in, he asked me how many rooms I would need to be in to feel at home.

"All of them," I replied.

At first he laughed, thinking I was joking. When he saw that I was serious, he told me that would never happen. There were always going to be other rooms reserved. There was no way I could ever be in every room in his hotel.

"Two to start," I told him.

"Why two?" he asked.

"Because it's one more than you're comfortable giving."

With some hesitation, he agreed to two rooms. They were joined so that I could keep the doors open and have more space. All of my luggage fit into the one room. I used all of the furniture provided by the hotel, at least for a while. The second room that I requested remained empty but I made sure to clean it every day. I made sure to change the flowers in it every day. I took good care of it and kept it ready for whenever someone might need to use it.

During the day, he worked behind the counter. I had nothing else to do, so I wandered the halls. When I came upon the common area, I frowned. There was dust all over the place. The furniture was outdated. The carpets needed vacuuming. Everything needed to be rearranged. This was the first room that everyone saw coming into his hotel and I wanted it to make a better impression than it was currently doing. After all, I thought the world of this hotel and I wanted everyone else to as well. I set to work cleaning up. I got rid of out-dated magazines. I organized the clutter. I made a straight path from the doors to the desk.

The next day I wandered the halls, inspecting the doors. A lot of rooms were empty but were still reserved, off-limits to me. On the next floor, there were more guests who were staying for longer than a night or two. On the top floor were all the permanent residents. My rooms were on the ground floor.

I walked along, not daring to knock. Dirty linens and dirty dishes lined the hallways, waiting to be picked up. At the end of the hall I saw him and waved. He didn't wave back. Instead, he looked upset that I was upstairs at all.

"Go downstairs," he told me.

"I can help you clean up," I offered, but he stubbornly refused.

"This is my responsibility," he told me before moving along.

The next morning I cleaned the common area again and then went straight to the third floor to pick up the linens and dishes. I found the laundry room and got the laundry started. I found the dishwasher and got it started. I found him in the kitchen.

"Meals around here can get tough. Everyone needs something different. Everyone likes it prepared a certain way. I have to remember everyone's preferences."

"I could help you prepare everything," I offered, but he refused me again.

"Another room has opened up if you'd like it," he commented. "I know how you wanted to be in every room."

"Just leave it unlocked for me. I'll find it tomorrow."

The next morning I cleaned the common area, gathered the dirty laundry and dishes, and then cleaned out the room that had been left unlocked. I changed the linens. I dusted everything. I opened the window to let some sunshine and breeze pour through, lifting the staleness of the closed up room and whisking it away. I found flowers from outside and brought them in. I prepared the room for its next visitor.

He came by as I was putting on the finishing touches.

"Would you like a tour of the hotel?" he asked.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, excited to finally know who all lived here.

He explained: "The first floor is where most of the reservations are made for. Not everyone shows up like I expect them to, but they have to stay reserved anyhow. If one of these becomes a regular or needs extended stay, then they can be moved up a floor. The second floor is for long-staying guests who will eventually depart. Some of these rooms are empty right now but I expect they'll fill up soon; some are filled now but I expect they'll empty soon. I keep them vacant just in case the guest comes back and wants their room back. That's just good business. The third floor is for permanent residents. Here you'll find my mom and my dad's room, joined in the middle by one that they share. My son has a room. There's a room for my ex-wife. There are some rooms for women I've dated in the past. Some of these rooms no longer have anyone living in them, like my grandpa's, but it still belongs to him and I could never give it to someone else. All the rooms up here are filled, so no one else can move in, you understand? Maybe now you can see why you can never be in every room. I would never take someone's room from them and assign it to someone else."

I nodded but noted he didn't really understand my request. Not yet at least.

That evening he slept in my room. I took care of him, loved him, and tended to him until he fell asleep. In the morning we got up together and he worked the desk while I cleaned the common area. I picked up the laundry and dishes and then I cleaned the hallways. I delivered the meals he prepared but I never saw the inside of the rooms nor met the people who lived inside.

Months later our schedule was nearly perfected. We had learned to work in unison. I tended to all that he would allow me to, which wasn't much more than when we first began. But now he had fallen ill. Now he couldn't run the hotel by himself. He tried, for a long time he tried, but eventually he needed help. He took me behind the counter for the first time. I was shown where the keys were kept. I was told to use them only in emergencies.

In the morning I rose and cleaned the common area. I gathered the laundry and the dishes. I cooked and delivered the meals. I had no reservations to take so I spent that time getting to know his guests.

I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and one by one they let me in. This one was a friend from high school that he'd kept in touch with over the years. He told me stories of how they used to surf and work together. I told him how happy I was to have him in his hotel. I told him that if he left his door unlocked, I would tend to his room the same as I did my own, that I would take care of him the way that he would.

On the next door, I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and was allowed in. This one was a colleague that had worked with him before he got into the hotel business. They played music together and sketched together. I told him how happy I was to have him in his hotel. I told him that if he left his door unlocked, I would tend to his room the same as I did my own, that I would take care of him the way that he would.

On the next door, I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and was allowed in. This one was a woman who had a son around the same age as his own. They had met through his ex-wife and kept in touch after the divorce so their kids could continue to play together. They both had a love for photography and I could see his work on her walls. I told her how happy I was to have her in his hotel. I told her that if she left her door unlocked, I would tend to her room the same as I did my own, that I would take care of her the way that he would.

By the end of the day, I had introduced myself to all of floor two. That night, I held him in my arms. I told him of my day. I loved him until he fell asleep.

Each morning, I cleaned the common area, though the purpose seemed lost. With him ill, no one else was going to come through the doors. With him ill, no one else was going to call and make a reservation. So I spent the day up on the third floor instead.

One by one, I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and one by one they let me in. The first was his mom. She told me stories of when he was young and when he was troublesome. She told me of his life through his marriage, through his other career, through parenthood, to this day. She asked me how he was and I told her. I thanked her for staying in his hotel. I told her that if she left her door unlocked, I would tend to her room the same as I did my own, and if she taught me, I would look after her the way he did.

On the next door, I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and was allowed in. This time it was his dad. He told me stories of camping, of hunting, of golfing to relax. He told me stories of when he made him proud and when he didn't make him so proud. He told me about what a good man he had grown to be. He asked me how he was and I told him. I thanked him for staying in his hotel. I told him if he left his door unlocked, I would tend to his room the same as I did my own, and if he taught me, I would look after him the way he did.

On the next door, I knocked lightly, introduced myself, and was allowed in. This time it was his son. He told me stories of going to the zoo, and of school, and of all the times that his dad made him happy and sad and angry. He told me of how he missed him and asked me how he was, so I told him. I thanked him for staying in the hotel. I told him that if he left his door unlocked, I'd tend to his room the same as I did my own, and if he taught me, I would look after him the way he did.

I did this for every room on the floor. Each person would allow me in, tell me stories of him, ask about him, and I would extend the offer. The doors that were not opened by a person were opened by key. I stood in one room full of guitars and paintings. I stood in another room full of quilts and family pictures. I stood in a nursery.

That evening, I held him. I told him of my day. I held him until he slept.

The next morning, I went through each floor. I tried every door. Every door was opened to me. Every room was tended to. I changed the linens. I dusted. I vacuumed. I opened the windows to let in the sunshine and breeze. I put in new flowers for them to see. Every room, occupied or not, got the same treatment. Some rooms had been closed off for too long and they needed to be opened up. The day was long and the work was hard and I was tired by the end, but happy.

That night I held him and told him of my day and before he could fall asleep I told him that I had a surprise for him. He would be strong enough for it, I was certain of it. He nodded, and then nodded off.

In the morning, I escorted him and aided him to the common area. All of the furniture had been moved out with the exception of one chair. The whole room was immaculate. Together we walked to that chair and I had him sit down. Then, everyone began to file into that one room. Everyone was together for the first time. Everyone thanked him for letting them stay in his hotel.

People from the third floor met people from the second floor met people from the first floor. There was no judgement; everyone was curious about everyone else, why they were staying in the hotel. How had they all lived here for so long without knowing one another? How was he taking care of so many guests without anyone else realizing it? Then, without asking and without prompting, they banded together. Together they cleaned. Together they cooked. Together they let the breeze through the vacant rooms. Together they replaced the dying flowers with fresh ones. Together they chatted. Together they spent time. Together they wished him a speedy recovery.

That evening I held him while he did not speak. I loved him while he remained still. I didn't have to tell him of my day because we had spent it together.

I had been afraid to use the key on the first floor. I had been afraid he would never take another reservation, that he would never need those rooms again. That morning though, I opened each one of them. I spruced them up. I prepared them for all the guests he was about to receive. That day he finally emerged from my room and took his place behind the counter again. Neither of us had to fetch linens or dishes, because someone else had already volunteered to do it. Neither had to cook, because someone else had already volunteered to do it. Neither of us had to clean, because someone else had already volunteered to do it. Every guest had been taken care of and was busy taking care of someone else.

"You got into every room of the hotel, just like you wanted," he mused, watching everyone working and chatting away happily.

I listened to the hum of people, the liveliness of them all, and I felt the love they radiated for him, for each person in this hotel, and I felt as though it finally felt like what it really was -- a home for all the people he loved, the people in his heart.