Intermission
I sat up in the hotel room bed and looked up at my guest. I had been sitting to start the story, but by the end I was laying down and talking to the ceiling. Even now, all the losses from so long ago still hurt. Though they were like numb aches almost forgotten. The type that only came back on cold, rainy days. Days like these. The events of the past few weeks still stood much stronger in my mind. Their sting was much sharper.
"I still don't know your name," I said.
"Well, I guess that's only fair, considering you are sharing your life story with me." Her words lacked the bite from our previous conversation.
She too had started the story sitting upright but was now leaning forward attentively. Yet somehow still managing to attract attention to her finer features.
"My name is Alicia Nguyen," she stated simply.
There was no sign of a non-verbal tick, no slight aversion of gaze; just her cinnamon brown eyes staring steadily back at me. None of the telltale signs she was lying meant she was either very good at it or telling the truth. Not sure which possibility scared me more.
"I think I need a short break if that's ok with you," I stated.
"Yeah, I had no intention of sleeping here anyway," she said, her glance around the room as cursory as it was disdainful.
"You can join me at the Hotel Monaco if you would like. Unless this is more… to your liking." Another look around.
I wordlessly picked up my pack.
The front desk was still empty as we walked out. I just left my key and some cash on the desk under the keyboard.
We walked over four blocks in silence before coming across the first cab. I enjoyed the cool night air; it helped me concentrate. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotion, elation, and betrayal. I ran over the events in my mind. I now understood what the last two years of my life had meant. Though knowing did not make it any better. I had been a pawn in a much bigger game. I had been carefully manipulated and used. And yet despite all that had happened, I knew my life had held purpose. I had not lived just for myself, and I had accomplished something worthwhile, even if others had used it for their own gain.
This realization helped, a little. Now I just had to figure out a way to make it all right again. Fix the mistakes I had made. And that is where I was at a complete loss of how to proceed.
His words still echoed through my head. He was not entirely wrong in his philosophy. But his methods lacked any sort of moral or ethics. Most importantly, his end game was about absolute control for himself, and that was something I could not abide. Is peace in slavery better than war in freedom? No. It could not be.
But wouldn't the ends justify the means if everyone was happy with their lot? What did they care about decisions made over their heads? Did it matter if they sat back and watched TV, worked nine to five, and lived their lives without understanding there was no other choice? What difference does it make if they knew their master or thought they served themselves? No, just because someone did not exercise the freedoms they had been granted by better people than themselves did not mean they didn’t deserve those freedoms in the first place. Right?
I was stopped abruptly by Alicia’s hand on my arm. Pulled out of my revelry, I looked at her in annoyance. She was waiting impatiently for me to get in the cab.
"Meter's running," she announced.
"Really thought money would not be an issue for you," I responded.
"Why would you think that?" she asked innocently.
"Foreign backers," I muttered on my way into the backseat.
She slid in next to me. She gave the address to the driver and sat back, studying me. I waited for her to break the silence. I was just as comfortable to sit here in my own thoughts even if my mind was not always the happiest place. The way she suddenly smiled so coyly sent shivers down my spine. Not necessarily good ones.
"What seems to be occupying that great mind of yours?" she asked far too sweetly.
"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," I responded sullenly.
Her burst of laughter was abrupt, but it helped ease the tension between us. I couldn’t help but smile in return.
"You really are an idealist, aren't you?" She shook her head.
"They told me you would be like this, but I really didn't believe it. Looking back at everything you've done. All you are responsible for, I thought no way. No way is this guy actually so ignorant as to have not seen what he was doing. No way! He had to have some idea about what was going on around him. But you really didn't did you?
“You poor fool. You poor, idealistic fool. The world is far simpler than you want to make it out to be. People want power, and they will do anything they can, use anyone they must, to get it. They will burn bridges and starve millions if it means another penny in their pocket. People are fundamentally evil, and the sooner you accept that the better off you will be."
I sat back as I let her tirade wash over me. I watched her as she spoke. The wavy dark hair framing such a fine face. Her smooth, slightly darker than tan skin. Perfectly shaped features. Her tight clothes meant to be both practical in a combative sense and enthralling by using those very features as a distraction. And despite being undoubtedly one of the most striking women I had ever had the pleasure of meeting, she was as cold as the murky ocean on a lonely night. The underlying fury of her previous actions must have grown from some dark past. One that most likely put my own to shame. Her words were born from a failing of humanity long ago. Whatever events had conspired in her life to bring her here had also tempered this unbreakable, steely resolve.
I knew better than to argue with such a person.
The hotel was a decent ways away, and we spent the rest of the drive in silence after I refused to refute her claims against me. Besides, if she was right, then why was I even agreeing to this whole mess in the first place? That would make her evil, too. I would be a fool to help her. There was something in her voice. A passion behind her words. I felt her bitterness was directed elsewhere. She had been hurt, just like me.
When we arrived, she paid the cab and I followed her through the front lobby up to her room. I tossed my pack down onto the thick, beige carpet. It landed with a dull thud.
"Guess you have some real valuables there," she observed.
I nodded in response.
"I'll take the couch," I said.
It looked far better than the bed from my old room.
Alicia raised her eyebrows but made no comment. She left the room, and a few minutes later I heard the shower start.
I laid down on the couch and let the white noise around me fill my head. The low hum of the hotel AC, the even sound of the shower, the cacophony honks of cars outside. All the noise washed over me and filled my mind with a comfortable emptiness. Drowning out the perpetual feeling of loss, the ache of the heart that never quite heals. Dulled with time, but freshened by telling. Talking to my new "friend" had left me spent, and I fell asleep almost instantly.
____________________
Normally I was a light sleeper. The slightest noise or hint of movement around me was usually enough to wake me, which was why I awoke slightly startled but far more surprised to hear the beep from the door to the hotel room. Alicia must have walked right past me to leave earlier, and I had failed to notice.
Maybe I trusted her because she was like me, even though past events should have taught me how foolish that was. Or perhaps, and far more likely, the last few days had left me so exhausted that I failed to stay alert. I made a mental note to get more rest. I could not let myself begin to slip up—not before I got my revenge.
The hotel room door opened, and in came Alicia. She looked far too chipper considering events that had led us here. Her good mood soured mine.
"Well look who's finally up! Sleep well? I have coffee, cream and sugar, black, and green tea—which would you like? Oh and muffins!" she spoke cheerfully.
"Coffee, black, and do you have blueberry?" I asked.
"Of course!" She tossed me a muffin, set the drinks on the coffee table, and slid next to me on the couch.
“You sure seem cheerful this morning,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked far too sweetly.
“Yesterday you were all doom and gloom, going on about the futility of mankind and how it’s all for naught. Today you’re just a cheerful person ready to take on the world with muffins,” I stated.
“Mm,” she nodded slowly, “you’re learning.”
There was a glint in her eye that made me shiver despite the warm coffee cup in my hands.
“How about you let me worry about that and we just continue your story for now,” she answered with a mischievous smirk.
“That’s the exact type of thing that’s gotten me in trouble in the past,” I answered sullenly.
“Who’s the cynical one now?” she asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“You’re the one who told me to be!” I cried out in exasperation.
“And you’re going to listen to me just like that?” She gave me a quizzical look.
“I…” –I sighed but smiled despite myself. I was no match for her at this.
“You’re catching on,” she nodded knowingly.
I looked pointedly at the hand she had placed on my arm. But before I could get too upset about her friendliness, she burst out laughing.
"No, I didn't mean like that!" She removed her hand to cover her mouth.
Still, her reaction instantly broke the tension in the room, and I chuckled along with her. I hadn't even noticed how tense I had become until I felt my body relax. Another mental note. We were not friends, and she was using me just as I intended to use her. She also had ulterior motives based on outside influences. I knew I could easily let myself grow close to this woman. She was indeed very alluring. But I feared I would be a moth to a flame with her.
Regardless of the mental games she wanted to play, I would be taking a page from her book. I needed to be more cynical, distance myself from her, and step away from the present. I needed a reminder of why I was here.
"Let's just continue, if you don't mind." My voice sounded colder than I intended.
"Very well.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “I believe you were just dying."
I felt a moment of guilt for my attitude, but memory of recent events helped me focus- and then move back to the past.