Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [78]
The lobby is dark, with dim lights running along its perimeter. A petite young woman sits behind the front desk, her blond hair pulled back into a severe-looking bun. She’s wearing red lipstick, too bright for her waxen face. But her smile seems genuine, and I’m glad to see another human being who looks happy to see me, even if the expression is nothing more than theater.
“Hi there,” she says, and her voice is as chipper as her smile.
“Hi back. Do you have any rooms available?”
“We do,” she says without consulting her computer. “Smoking or non?”
“Smoking.”
She makes a face at that and then swivels on her stool and taps at the computer’s keyboard. After a moment’s study, she says, “We have two rooms available in the smoking wing. One has a queen-size bed, the other a king.” Tabitha—I’ve only now noticed the name tag—gives me an expectant look.
“Great. We’ll take both.” I would ask Esperanza if she’d prefer something in the clean-air section, but given the way she’s leaning against the desk, I get the feeling she wouldn’t care if I led her to one of the couches in the lobby and left her there.
“Both?”
“I snore.”
A few minutes later, the elevator deposits us on the third floor. I have the room keys in my pocket—128 and 133—as I set off down the hallway, lugging both of our bags. We reach 133 first, where I set one bag down so I can fish the key from my pocket. Two key cards and I have no idea which one is for this door. The first swipe has no effect on the lock’s red light. The second card produces a welcoming green color and the sound of the lock disengaging.
I push open the door, step inside and drop Espy’s bag on the floor, then turn on one of the lights. The room is of decent size and with no foul odors. It looks like she’s getting the king-size bed.
“I’ll come and get you in the morning,” I say.
“Not too early,” she says, but the last part is lost in a yawn.
I give her a smile and, stifling my own yawn, start to leave. I’m just passing by her in the narrow entryway when I catch the scent of her shampoo. It’s the same one she used when we were together; it’s another one of those old memories that people attach more meaning to than the thing deserves. But now the subtle floral smell catches me sleep-deprived. I reach my hand around her waist and pull her in for a kiss. It’s funny how something can be immediately familiar and startlingly new at the same time. They’re the same lips, but we’re different people. I wonder, in that brief moment that passes before we disengage, if that’s a good thing.
I can’t read the answer in Esperanza’s eyes, yet she doesn’t push me away. We’re close enough that I can hear her breathing.
I’m the one who pulls back. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
Without waiting for a reply, I make for the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me. Right before it clicks shut, I hear Espy say something about flossing. I stand in the dimly lit corridor for a time before resettling my bag on my shoulder and heading off to find my own bed.
CHAPTER 16
The seat of the Australian government is a mammoth building forever fated to be reminded of its humbler beginnings. Parliament House occupies the ideological center of South Canberra, forming the southern point of the Parliamentary Triangle that claims a large section of the Lake Burley Griffin shoreline. Looking north from its main entry, though, one cannot help but notice the smaller but elegant Old Parliament House that oversaw the birth of a self-determining nation.
Espy and I ascend the fifteen or so steps to the entrance, where two guards are posted, facing straight ahead with matching staunch postures. We join the stream of people entering the building, most of them tourists hoping to visit the nonessential rooms set aside for the curious. Among these are a smattering of professionals in suits and skirts—government officials, aides, lobbyists, grifters of all shapes