WHO: Russ Burns and Wesley Atwood. WHEN: Late night on April 8th, 2019. WHERE: Hotel lobby and the front desk. SUMMARY: Wes talks to a plant before catching up with Russ at the front desk. WARNINGS: Depression, talk of loss, drinking, and Wes being dramatic.
Wes had eventually left Temperance’s company and began the nightly trek around the hotel. He wasn’t great with sleeping. Or sitting still. Or spending time with other people who happened to care about him. In fact, he was so bad at it that he actively avoided connection with anyone to keep up the ruse that He Was Fine.
He thought he heard someone ask him a question, so he turned to answer and engaged a very large plant in conversation for a few minutes. He learned quite a lot.
Once he reached the lobby, he paced back and forth from one end to the other, walking in zigzags that eventually turned into confusing circles before he found the front desk and stared at the attendant. “I..” he trailed off for a second, looking beyond Russ and then back toward his face, which was somewhat blurred and in constant motion. “I’d like to apply for a job. Part-time. Temporary. Replace all the lightbulbs. Clean floors. Whatever you need.”
Russ had heard from one of the night staff about the drunk guy going around talking to plants. He didn’t look up from his Sudoku. “What kinds of skills do you have?”
Without a word, Wes pulled out a resume from his pocket, unfolded it, and slid it across the desk. He studied the wall behind Russ with unusual interest. “I have lots of experience,” he offered instead.
Who just carried a resume? Russ had thought this was a drunk man being drunk and hadn’t taken this seriously, but apparently, the guy had a resume right there in his pocket. Russ looked up, and realized this was the Pacing guy from last night. “Why do you want a job?”
“I need something to do. It’s too much.” Wes looked toward Russ. “I have to keep moving.” He paused for a long moment, looking off toward the corner of the lobby as if he had seen something important. But he didn’t budge. His gaze slowly returned back to the desk attendant. “I was supposed to die here, you know. All my friends did. If I hadn’t canceled, I’d be just like them.”
The delivery was so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant. A truth he believed. Something he felt. Now Wes shrugged. “Staying in a room with my dead best friend’s sister is one thing. But she’s also my other best friend’s girlfriend. Both of us are miserable, man. I just.. I can’t be in there anymore.” Wes moved to slowly lean against the desk until his face was level with the plaque bearing Russ’ name. He smiled serenely. “I can start tomorrow. I have unlimited availability.”
The guy had Russ’s sympathy at that point. He seemed like a decent kid. Polite. That was rare in a person. Russ definitely wasn’t polite. He exhaled. The drunk guest had his full attention. “1. No one was supposed to die here. But even if you do believe it was some kind of divine intervention or fate, did you ever consider that maybe you had to cancel your trip because you were supposed to live?” Russ’s lower lip puffed. Food for thought.
“2. I could switch your room for you. You know a chick named Temperance? Seems decent. I could put you in with her and give Moaning Myrtle to Snidely Whiplash.” Russ knew a couple other yahoos that were complaining about their bedmates too. As far as Russ was concerned, might as well put the Troll King and Troll Queen together. “Or if you do want to stick to the current roommate despite your unhappiness, what time does your miserable companion normally go to bed?”
There was a questionable amount of silence as Wes rocked back onto his heels, his head drifting backward so that he could stare upward at the lights above them. He stared for a long minute before he took a step to the side and refocused on Russ. “I promised them I would protect Leila. She asked me to stay with her and that’s not something where I can comfortably break my promise.” He wasn’t sure what schedule she kept and offered a shrug to his new friend. “I don’t know. Bed time. Night time. When it’s dark outside, probably.” He swayed on his feet, leaning far to the left and then back toward the right. “If I have something to do, I don’t have to break a promise, y’know. It’s overridden by responsibility.”
“Your logic is drunk,” Russ told him. “Best case scenario, she’ll figure out what you’re doing and be way more hurt than if you were just honest with her and said you’d be happier with a room change.” No one was going to think getting a job while you were on vacation was normal. It wasn’t normal. Any idiot could read right through that and see the guy had an ulterior motive.
“Lucky for you though, I like putting my kids to bed and having sex with my wife. So I don’t care.” Russ turned back to his Sudoku. “If you want to come down here and man the desk from like 8 to 11, cool. People are stupid when they’re on vacation, especially from 8-11, so you’ll have a lot to keep you busy. We’ll call it an unpaid internship. By the time you get back up to your room, hopefully, she’ll be asleep and you won’t have to deal with her.”
At the offer, there was a visible shift in how Wes held himself. He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing briefly as he felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. He nodded and smiled at Russ. “I’ll be here. Thank you.”
“Thought for the future,” Russ said. “Instead of trying to get a job as an excuse to break your promises, next time, if you can’t, just don’t promise to do it.” He puffed his lip out and raised his shoulders. “Food for thought.”
Having something to do meant he didn’t have to fight with himself constantly. He had a break. A way to keep busy. Something to look forward to. He fumbled for a moment as he looked around the desk and finally found the stack of comment cards. He carefully wrote out a performance review for Russ, indicating his gratitude for the exemplary service, before he pushed it forward and left a $20. He’d spend his money on alcohol and self-help.
Without another word, Wes left the desk and traipsed toward the lobby doors, exiting as they slid open with a quiet whoosh to find somewhere to rest.