Hot Springs Eternal

by John M. Daniel

“Can’t it be fixed?” Emily asked. “Arthur, you’re the mechanic. Can you get the hot water flowing again?”

  Arthur shrugged. “Doubtful. The hot water pipe must be clogged, or more likely broken. Those pipes have been in the ground for almost a hundred years. It’s a miracle they’ve lasted this long, frankly. Besides, locating the break would be more than difficult, and fixing it would be next to impossible.”

  “A typical Arthurian response,” Casey remarked. “How come it’s always bad news when you assess a situation?”

  Beatrice said, “Shut up, Casey. Arthur knows more about this than you do.”

  Diana said, “Beatrice, it’s Casey’s job to find solutions, not throw up his hands and call everything hopeless.”

  “But it is hopeless,” Theresa cried. “If we don’t have hot water, we don’t have a business. Without the hot water we’re sunk. After all we’ve been through!”

  Casey turned to Arthur and tried again. “Are you saying the water can’t be fixed? How serious is this problem, really, other than being the end of the world, which everything is as far as you’re concerned?”

  “I’m not a plumber,” Arthur replied. “But it doesn’t look good. I guess you could call Roto-Rooter and tell them to bring a snake three miles long. But they don’t have snakes that long, and if they did, the snake would probably just cause more damage, ruin what’s left of the pipes. Of course you could replace the whole aqueduct system, but that would cost millions and take years.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, will you people all just shut up?” Karen shrieked. She collected herself, lifted her yellow tee shirt to wipe the tears from her face, and said, softly, “The hot water isn’t the issue. The future of the hotel’s not what I’m alarmed about. Can’t you see? Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not to me,” Casey said. “I mean, the hotel—”

  “Screw the hotel. The reason the water’s gone cold is that Nqong’s not taking care of business. That’s not at all like our Nqong. Something must have happened to him. He may be sick. Or…” Tears flowed again down Karen’s cheeks. “…or worse.”

  The staff squirmed in their circle.

  “We have to check up on him,” Karen said. “Right now. Casey, you’re going up to the water house with me. You too, Arthur. Meeting dismissed, God damn it.”

  “I’ll pack you a lunch,” Diana offered. “TLT sandwiches. One for Nqong, too.”

  ———

  Karen, Casey, and Arthur sat on the warm, sunny stone terrace in front of the water house, with their legs dangling over the ledge. They munched their tofu, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches and shared the thermos of cold mint tea. Yellow beetles danced in the air in front of them.

  Karen broke the silence. “No sign of him.”

  Casey and Arthur shook their heads. Casey said, “Well, Arthur, do you think you can figure out how this waterworks works?”

  “It’s a matter of controlling the flow through two big pipes, cutting back the cold water and letting more hot go through. But it won’t be easy to get it right. I have no idea what combination of settings will make the right temperature. Then there’s the matter of changing the settings daily to account for the weather. Nqong knew how to do all that. Whoever takes this on won’t have a clue.”

  “Stop it,” Karen snapped. “Quit talking about Nqong in the past tense. He’ll be back.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Arthur added. “I’m not taking this on. I couldn’t live up here on the mountain all by myself, and I’m not into climbing up here every day.”

  “Nqong will be back,” Karen insisted.

  “You’re sure of that?” Casey asked.

  “If he’s alive, he’ll come back. He’s loyal.”

  “He hasn’t hung out with us for years,” Arthur pointed out. “I’m not sure ‘loyal’ is the right word.”

  “Loyal is what he is,” Karen said. “Maybe not to the yellow people, but he’s loyal to the yellow bugs. They need him, and he knows it. He’ll be back.”

  ———

  Hot and sweaty from their long hike back down to the valley, they entered the hotel. Arthur lumbered down the hallway toward the kitchen, and Karen took Casey aside in the lobby. “Casey, honey, I need to have a talk with you and Diana. Would you see if you can find her? I’ll be up in my apartment.”

  “Okay,” Casey said. “What’s this about?”

  Karen’s mouth twitched into a shaky smile, and she said, “Get Diana. I don’t want to have to say this twice.” She turned and plodded up the stairs.

  Casey found Diana in the pantry behind the kitchen. “Karen wants to see us in her apartment,” he said.

  “Okay. What about?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem happy about it, whatever it is.”

  “So I gather you didn’t find Nqong?”

  “No such luck.”

  The two of them went up the back stairs to the third floor and down the hall to the apartment. Casey rapped his knuckles on the open door as they walked in.

  Karen met them in the sitting room. “Thanks,” she said. “Have a seat. Would either of you like a glass of wine? No? I wish I could offer you something to smoke. I wish I had something to smoke myself, as a matter of fact. Shit, this is difficult.”

  Diana put a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sit down, both of you.”

  Casey and Diana sat on the couch, holding hands. Karen sat in a straight-backed chair, facing them across the coffee table. “Okay, here’s the deal,” she said. “Oh, crap. How to put this? This hotel thing? The whole hotel thing? It was Nellie’s idea, not mine. Following orders set forth in our father’s will, we were supposed to have joint custody of Hope Springs during the nineteen-eighties. I wanted to keep my community, the so-called yellow people, and Nellie wanted to revive the old Hollywood hotel thing our parents had going back in the twenties. So, after a good deal of bickering, as you can imagine, we came up with a compromise. I could keep my community of friends, and we’d live as a commune during the week; and on weekends we’d open the hotel up to Nellie’s friends from Malibu, with the yellow people taking on the roles of hotel staff. We both hoped you, Diana, would stay on as cook for both the yellows and the guests. You, Casey, walked into the role of staff manager during the week and live-in host and entertainer on weekends. You with me so far?”

  Diana and Casey nodded.

  “Right. So everybody was happy, even Nellie. Especially Nellie, once she got hooked up with Baxter. I never made a big deal of it, but I didn’t much care for the hotel idea. And now that Nellie’s moved out, I’m not all that sure I want to go through with it. As for Nellie, she was bored with the idea of living in a commune from day one, except for the Baxter part, and now that Baxter’s gone to the other side of the earth, she doesn’t want anything to do with Hope Springs anymore. Kids, what I’m trying to tell you is we may not have a hotel after all. How do you think the staff, the yellows, will react to this idea? How do you two feel about it?”

  The silence that followed lasted a long time and ended softly with Casey saying, “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Me too,” Diana said.

  “Very well,” Karen said. “Do that. Each of you think your feelings through, and then talk to each other and see how that feels, and then come back to me with your answers, or your answer. Take as long as you need, and let me know as soon as possible. That’s intentionally confusing. I want you to be as confused as I am, I suppose. I feel rotten, but I feel on the verge of relief. I am terribly worried about Nqong, needless to say. Now please leave me alone for a while. I need to meditate, if I can manage to. Otherwise, I need to take a nap.”

  ———

  Diana and Casey sat side by side in Adirondack chairs on the verandah in front of the hotel.

  “I don’t want to leave my friends,” she said. “What about you?”

  “I haven’t played piano professionally for over nine months.” Casey said. “I miss it.”


  “Are you saying you’re ready to move on?”

  “I’m sad thinking about this place without the hotel. That would have been the ideal job for me.”

  “So you’re saying you want to go. Go where?”

  “Would you want to come with me?”

  “Tag along? Where?”

  “I don’t know where, Diana. That’s part of the fun.”

  “Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

  “What if I were to go, find a gig someplace, steady work, then send for you?”

  “Send for me? Get real.”

  “Come and get you, I mean. I’d come and get you.”

  “That’s too big an if, Casey. Leave my friends, my home for the past ten years almost, just to follow you someplace you don’t even know where yet? How can I possibly say yes to that? So you get a gig in, I don’t know, Los Angeles. You expect me to live in L.A., after living in this beautiful place? I don’t want to live in L.A.”

  “I didn’t say Los Angeles.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, then? The point is you want to stay safe and quiet here till you’re too old to enjoy surprises. I feel trapped, Diana. No, not by you. I don’t feel trapped by you. Now stop that. Don’t cry.” Casey handed her a handkerchief.

  Diana wiped the tears off her face and handed the handkerchief back. She turned to face him, and forced a fragile smile onto her face. “I thought this place would be our future,” she said. “Thought we’d live here and work together. Doing what we each love to do: you making music, me making food. Now you want to go make music somewhere else? Fine, I understand that. What I don’t understand is what I’d do.”

  “The world needs cooks, Diana. And you’re a great cook.”

  “Shit. And you’d be out all night, flirting with your adoring cute fans.”

  “Not all night.”

  She shook her head. “How reassuring. Never mind. I’m staying here. You’re moving on, obviously. I guess we’re ready to let Karen know. Do you want to go first, or shall I? Or should we tell her together?”

  “How about we tell her in the morning. After we have a chance to sleep on it.”

  “Sleep together, you mean?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Sleep as in ‘sleep’? Or what?”

  “Your call.”

  “My, how flexible of you. What the hell are you smiling about?”

  “It’s our first fight,” Casey said.

  “And probably our last,” Diana added. “Oh, Casey, I’ve loved you so much, for months. I’ll love you for months after you’re gone. And Jesus, what a fine piano player you are.” She smiled and reached across the distance to take the handkerchief from his hand and wipe the tears from his eyes. “You handsome traveling minstrel man, you.”

  17. The Great Unknown

  Shortly after nine o’clock the following evening Casey parked his VW in the lot behind the Key Western Inn in Anacapa. He got out, locked the car doors, and walked into the hotel lobby, then into the Key of Sea Lounge, where Warren Roberts was hard at work, playing “New York, New York.” When Warren saw Casey he grinned and motioned him over to his side. Every stool around the piano was occupied.

  “Pick up the mike,” Warren said. “Sing a chorus or two for these lovely people.”

  “I don’t touch that song,” Casey said. “Can you modulate into E-flat and give me a pickup for ‘Manhattan’?”

  At the end of the second chorus of “Manhattan” Casey heard the sweet sound of hearty applause, a reward he’d been missing for months.

  A couple next to the keyboard rose from their stools and the woman stuffed a ten-dollar bill into Warren’s tip jar. “Have a seat,” the man offered. “We have to be leaving. Thanks for the song.”

  “My pleasure,” Casey answered, and meant it. He sat on the stool closest to the piano player.

  Warren said, “Sing another tune, crooner.”

  “I like New York in June,” Casey responded a cappella, still in E-flat. “How about you?” Warren joined him on the second line, and they delivered the song and were both paid off with more applause.

  ———

  “So, how about you?” Warren asked, when the two musicians took a break outside behind the kitchen door. Warren offered Casey a Winston.

  Casey shook his head. “I haven’t had a cigarette for over a year. Don’t miss tobacco a bit. Weed, on the other hand.… You don’t happen to have a lead on where I can score a lid, do you?”

  “I gave that one up long ago,” Warren said. “It made work too hard. So. How’s that hotel gig working out?”

  “The hotel never opened, and I just learned that it’s never going to open. It’s as if I’ve wasted eight months waiting for nothing.”

  “Bummer. Are you out of practice?”

  “No, I’ve been playing a couple of hours almost every evening, but practically nobody listens to me. The hippie crowd I’m involved with doesn’t share our taste in music, to put it kindly. It’s boiled down to an audience of one.”

  “That lovely Diana?” Warren asked.

  “That lovely Diana. She’s the one, all right.”

  “She’s not enough? Sounds like nice work, if you can get it.”

  “I got it, but I miss playing professionally.”

  “You miss the hecklers, the singers who can’t carry a tune, the waltz-stompers who talk out loud while you play soft?”

  “I miss it all. I guess I miss the adventure, Warren. Even the uncertainty.”

  “You, pal, are plumb nuts. So are you and Diana breaking up, or are you going to take her on the rocky road from gig to gig?”

  “I’d like Diana to come with me, but she’s not as plumb nuts as I am.”

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Warren said, putting his cigarette out against the sole of his shoe and flicking the butt into the bushes. “Because I happen to know of a gig you two would be perfect for. Up in Santa Barbara. Montecito, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  Warren nodded. “Five nights a week, a girl singer and piano accompanist. A new club called the Café Rouge, attached to the Montecito Inn, which was built by Charlie Chaplin back in the day. The club manager, Sid Mitchell, loves standards.”

  “Hmm. I’ve worked for Sid a few times, a few years ago. The job’s still open?”

  “It was at five this afternoon. That’s when Sid called me.”

  “How come you’re not—”

  “I don’t have a girl singer. You, on the other hand, do, right?”

  “Maybe,” Casey answered. “Maybe not.”

  “Well, if I were you, I’d find out. Find out fast. Meanwhile, I’ve got to get back to my post. You coming?”

  “Actually, I think I should go on back up the hill and find out whether or not I have a girl singer.”

  “Atta boy.”

  ———

  After a late supper that same evening in Tillie’s apartment in Maricopa, Nqong finally told Matilda he wanted to move on. “I haven’t been outside in two days,” he said. “This is the longest I’ve ever stayed indoors. You’re kind to keep me hidden and safe, but I’ll die if I don’t get out and get moving.” He had found he couldn’t even do his thirty-six stretches in the tiny confines. He hated the feel of wall-to-wall carpeting under his bare feet.

  “I like the food you’ve made for me. The suppers. The sandwiches you leave for me when you go to work. But I have to go.”

  Tillie frowned. “Go where? The cops in this county are vicious, baby. You’ll end up in jail until they think up something to do with you. And whatever they come up with, you won’t like it. You have to have a plan. What’s your plan, Inngg Kong? Where will you go?”

  “Walking,” Nqong answered. “Into the mountains. I can find my way home. I miss home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Hope Springs.”

  Tillie smiled. “Hope Springs? Near Tecolote?”

  Nqong nodded.

  “Shoot, I
know Hope Springs. At least I know where it is, or at least where it used to be. I didn’t know people lived there. Do you have family in Hope Springs?”

  Nqong looked down at the hands in his lap. “Maybe. If they’ll have me back.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “I let them down. And now I’m letting you down. I like the way we fit when we lie down together. I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye. But I need to go home. I’ll find my way.”

  “When? Inngg Kong, it’s dangerous out there! I keep telling you.”

  “I’ll go at night. Tonight.”

  “Fuck that,” Tillie snapped. “No such thing. You stay here tonight and we’ll fit our old bods together one last time, and in the morning, first thing, we’ll get in my truck and I’ll take you home.”

  “What about your job?”

  “Screw it. I hate that job anyway. I’m a footloose rover, honey. I’ve packed my stuff in the back of that pickup more than once a year since my second divorce. Okay? You help me pack my truck this evening, and tomorrow bright and early we hit the trail to Tecolote. Is it a deal?”

  ———

  Eleven o’clock. It was time for Karen’s last warm bath of the day, but there hadn’t been any baths for the past four days. She had taken a cold shower that afternoon out behind the bathhouse, which had been pleasant enough because it was a warm day. But the hot water in the shower wasn’t hot, because it was no longer heated in its coiled copper pipe in the tank under the bathhouse. That was okay in the summer, but before winter Karen would have to buy a water heater for the yellow community and install an indoor shower. Karen had already put that on the growing list of changes ahead.

  Living at Hope Springs without hot baths would not be such a joyful experience for her community. The folks who still called themselves the yellow people. Karen wondered how long that would last. How long her community would survive. Especially after the yellow beetles died off in the fall and didn’t come back next spring.

  She heard a timid knock on the door and said, “Enter.”

  The door opened, and Diana walked in. She looked like a frightened, lost child. She walked into Karen’s hug, trembled there for a minute, and wept onto her shoulder.