by Cherry Kay
“So, you have some special plans for Christmas Day?” he said, nodding towards Miss Poole, who was still hovering around. “I'm glad to hear it. And with a good worker such as you, always sacrificing her holidays, it would be a shame if the hotel would deny you one year,” here he held up a chubby forefinger, “to celebrate with your family.”
“Oh, we value our workers,” Miss Poole said. “Of course Grace will have the time off. I just need to go and make a few adjustments.” She patted her schedule. The needle must have been threaded because her eyes were back to normal size and, if I wasn't mistaken, she even smiled at me.
Mr. Iglesias winked and tipped his hat before heading for the revolving doors across the large marble foyer. The doormen loved Mr. Iglesias because he was a good tipper. In fact, all the staff loved him for that. But for me, he was the darling old gentleman whom I had the good fortune to spend some quiet moments and intelligent conversation with. I learned all about his farm in
Argentina. He told me about the gauchos, about the wars and, because of him, I was almost fluent in Spanish, which is what helped clinch the receptionist job for me.
It was six thirty in the evening and my shift was almost up. If I came off work in the early evening, then Mikey would come by the staff entrance of the hotel to meet me. My best friend, Mikey, was from my home town in Boston. He worked in construction and had a job not far from the hotel. He'd been at that site over a year and we had this arrangement to meet and take the subway together. Otherwise I'd see Mikey weekends or evenings or just whenever there was time. Sometimes we'd text each other or speak on the phone, just to see how the other one is doing. Mikey never said much but he had a good sense of humor and he always knew how to make me laugh.
Mikey and I had been friends since school in Boston. He was a year older than me. He had seven brothers and sisters and came from a very Catholic, Irish family, all with varying shades of red hair. Mikey was what I'd call a strawberry blond but he hated that term. We lost touch when he went off to college for a few years so he could waste time and end up becoming a builder – like his father. It was the last thing his father ever wanted him to be.
“Son,” he used to say about his work, “the winters are cold and the summers are hot and when it rains it rains.” Loosely translated, what he meant was, no matter what the weather you'd be outdoors, working your butt off, walking the scaffolding on a skyscraper, and carrying loads on your back, when you could be inside an air-conditioned office. But Mikey didn't listen to his father.
Since he worked at that site, all I ever heard was Mikey complaining he got sunstroke and when it got to winter, he complained that his balls had frozen.
It was four years ago that Mikey walked back into my life. I just bumped into him outside a market in New York. I had no idea he'd moved here and he didn't know I was here either. The great thing was, we'd taken up being best friends again like we were never apart.
I grabbed my thick coat from the locker room and I noticed Miss Poole hovering around the staff entrance. She was cautioning Damion about his scuffed shoes but at the same time she seemed to be looking over the top of her glasses at me. Through the glass door of the staff entrance I saw Mikey. He was blowing into his hands and rubbing them together. All of a sudden I had a plan. I held open my purse for Security to check inside as usual, but Duke always just waved me through. I slipped out and before the door could close behind me, I called, “Mikey, oh Mikey!” He turned around, puzzled and I rushed to kiss him, full on the lips. I figured ten seconds ought to do it.
“What are you-” Mikey said when he could breathe again. My back was to the door but I knew Miss Poole would be watching.
“Say nothing but act like you know me terribly well,” I whispered to Mikey, still grabbing his cheeks between my hands.
“I do know you terribly well,” he mumbled through a squashed face.
“Shh, I'll explain later. You just put your hand on my butt and walk off, nice and slow. That's it, nice and slow. No! Don't turn around. Just nice – and – slow.”
Once we had left the block I pushed Mikey's hand away.
“Would you like to tell me what that was all about?” he grinned.
“Oh Mikey, I didn't mean to gross you out. I got the evil Miss Poole on my back. She was trying to get me to work Christmas Day.”
“So?”
“So I told her I was busy and I was spending the day with my fiancé and his family.”
“What? Why?”
“I don't know. I don't know why I lied. Perhaps half of me wished it was true.”
We walked down into the subway. It was warm and loud. People pushed by us and we got separated once in a while. Mikey held my hand and guided me to our platform.
“Mom always told me that if you tell lies, they always catch up with you, Grace.” He had his hands wedged deep in his jacket pockets and was looking at me the way Miss Poole would do.
“It was out of my mouth before I could even think it through. I only have to pretend for one holiday and I promise never to lie again,” I said, looking along the platform for our train. I could hear the sound of it reverberating down the tunnel, the pull of air gushing through the dark and whipping at our faces as the train rumbled in and stopped. The doors hissed open and people spilled out, bumping our shoulders and us bumping back as we tried to get on. We packed ourselves inside the carriage.
“I'm surprised at you, Grace,” Mikey remarked as we managed to find standing room together.
He put his arm around my neck like I was one of the guys, and we clung on to the bar for the rest of the ride home.
2
“Grace. Gracie. Come over here a second.”
Alicia and Suzette were two of the chambermaids I used to work shifts with in the old days. Since I started on reception I only saw them once in a while. But they stood behind the arched wall leading to the elevators and tried to attract my attention. Under no circumstances were chambermaids permitted into the foyer so my girls were just poking their heads around the corner, trying not to be seen and speaking in a stage whisper.
I looked up from the reception desk and mouthed, 'What?' to them. Suzette opened her mouth to whisper again but the phone rang.
“Great West International. Grace speaking, how can I help you?” I looked over at Alicia and Suzette and tried to wave them away.
“This is Mrs. Gorman,” the voice on the other end said. “I'd like to speak to one of your guests, a Mr. Steven Gorman, my husband.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Gorman, your husband is in room 303.” I put her right through. I knew the guy in 303, Mr. Gorman, booked in fifteen minutes ago with a red-head half his age, saying she was Mrs. Gorman.
Alicia rushed over after I hung up.
“Girl, what you doing? You want to get fired?” I looked all around, making sure a supervisor wasn't nearby.
“Listen, I just heard from Damion. Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I also spoke in a stage whisper.
“You got engaged, bitch, and you didn't even tell us you were dating.”
“Oh that.”
“Yes, 'oh that'. When were you going to tell us? Just because we make beds doesn't mean we have to be the last to know.”
“When was that ever the case? We all know the chambermaids have eyes and ears in the back of their heads.”
“But we didn't know about this! Who is it? Bill on security? Justin in events management? Suzette said he was gay coz of how he walk, but I said that don't account for nothing these days. It's him, right?”
“Listen, you girls will get us all in trouble. I'll explain later. A guest.” I looked over at the hotel entrance.
Someone walked in via the rotating door. I was so relieved to see Mr. Iglesias with his walking stick, coming to the desk. He had saved me again.
“Buenos dias!” I said to him. “You took an early walk today.”
“Some last minute shopping, Grace. Have you finished yours? How about for you fiancé? What di
d you buy for him?”
Mr. Iglesias did not wait for an answer. I handed back his room key and he was on his way to the elevator.
That's when the lie hit me deeply. How could I have lied to the sweet, little Mr. Iglesias? He was always so kind and open with me. I looked over at him where he stood waiting for the elevator. I heard it arrive at the ground floor and open. Mr. Iglesias looked back at me before getting in and gave me a wink. I didn't know how to interpret it, but let's just say, I think Mr. Iglesias had just agreed to help me keep my secret.
I wish the same could have been said about Alicia and Suzette. I didn't dare go to the staff restaurant for lunch that day because I knew they'd be there waiting for an update on my relationship status. They would not let me alone until they'd heard all about my engagement. All I had to do was survive the holidays and then my fiancé and I could break up and no one would be any the wiser. It was fifteen days to Christmas and I had no idea what kind of hole I was digging for myself.
I tiptoed out of the hotel, hoping to grab a hot dog or a pretzel for lunch. Not healthy but anything to avoid the girls who, as luck would have it, just happened to be inches from the pretzel guy on third. They started waving frantically when they saw me, both of them devouring super-sized hot dogs with extra ketchup. It had to have been a set up.
“Ladies,” I said, trying to act casual.
“Sooo,” Alicia said and grabbed my left hand. “Let's see how rich this guy is. What? No ring, Grace?”
“I don't want to wear it to work. I might lose it.”
“And we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?” Suzette agreed, licking ketchup from her overly lipsticked lips.
“How long you been seeing this dude?” Alicia moved closer. I backed away and stepped on a passing terrier. It barked loudly and made me jump.
“How long?” I repeated. “Just six months.”
“Bit of a whirlwind, wouldn't you say, Grace?” Alicia stood holding the hot dog in one hand, onions dropping on the pavement at her feet as she looked me up and down.
“Well, you know,” I said. “Love works in mysterious ways.”
Suzette, stepped in closer. “And what's his name, huh?”
“His name?” My eyes drifted across the street. I had read that when people tell lies, it shows in their eyes. If their eyes go to the right, they're lying. I wasn't sure if I was looking left or right but I quickly looked back to Suzette who still had ketchup on the side of her mouth.
“Kucher?” I said.
“Kutcher?” she said. “Like the actor? Don't tell me you're engaged to Ashton Kutcher.”
“No, Red Kucher. Well, I call him Red because of his hair. He's real name is Mikey.”
“Mikey Kucher, huh? Sounds like a white guy. You engaged to be married to a white guy and you don't even have the decency to let us know. So what, us women of color not good enough for your little white boyfriend.”
“Come on, Suzette, since when you been a racist?”
“I'm not, I'm just saying. It woulda been nice to have been told.”
“So, you'll be bringing him on Thursday, right?” Alicia said.
“Thursday?” I was confused.
“Yes, the staff Christmas party is at six pm as always. Banqueting suite on the top floor. The only time us back room workers get a chance to walk among you high and mighty front liners at the expense of the management.”
I had forgotten all about the party. Everyone went to the party. Even me. Although, I usually only popped my head around because I made sure I was working that night. But Thursday was two days away and it was my day off. I had no excuse. But, what if my fiancé was working that night?
Before I had time to come up with a story, Miss Poole stopped inches away from us.
“Now ladies, there's a perfectly healthy restaurant back there. And you choose to stand on the street eating food that will not only make you fat but give you a heart attack.” She pursed her lips together.
“Oh, Grace was just telling us she's bringing her fiancé to the party on Thursday.” Alicia grinned.
My mouth dropped open but Miss Poole's face lit up.
“Splendid, Grace. We all can't wait to meet him.” She slipped off then, through the crowd. I turned to the girls but they were already making their way back to the hotel.
I kept on standing there for a further five minutes as people bumped and barged by me on their way to a million and one important places. They caused a blur in front of me, beside me and all around me. I looked up to the sky, if there was ever a moment a UFO could arrive over New York and transport one unsuspecting citizen up to their ship, that should have been it and I should have been that person.
Someone stepped on my toe and someone shouted, “Hey, quit blocking the sidewalk, freak!”
So I limped back to the hotel and aimlessly wandered the back corridors until my lunch break was over, then put on my biggest smile and went back to the desk, hoping an idea would come to me, or a white guy called Red would walk into the hotel to get a room and ask me to marry him.
3
Mikey wasn't outside the hotel waiting for me, I knew he had taken the day off. He sent me a text to say he was getting a cold and wouldn't meet me after work because he was staying in bed. As soon as my shift finished I rushed down to the subway. The Brooklyn streets were growing dark but were still busy. I stopped off at Dooley's to buy some soup for Mikey. I figured if anyone knew a way to get me out of this, then it would be him.
When I got to his apartment I could hear lots of loud male voices. The television was up high and they were all talking at the same time. Mikey shared his apartment with Frank and Stewie, but it sounded an awful lot like I'd just arrived at one of their all-nighters, where a bunch of their friends piled over and ended up crashing on the one battered sofa they had.
No matter how loudly, I banged on the door I could not make myself be heard. I began shouting Mikey's name and banged some more.
“Hey Gracie.” Frank came out wearing a Giants cap facing the wrong way. “You come to watch the match?”
“No,” I stood on tiptoes to look over his shoulder. He had his arms crossed and was leaning against the open door frame, looking me up and down like I was supper and he had been starving for a week.
“You looking for your homeboy?” His eyes kept devouring me and he still hadn't stepped aside.
“Is he in?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm. But, is there anything a brother can do to help out this fine Nubian princess?”
“The only thing you can do, Brother, is step aside and let me through. How's Barbra, these days? She dumped your ass yet?”
He stepped aside as the rest of the guys laughed at him and threw pillows at his head. They couldn't miss.
“Mikey!”
Mikey sat in the middle of the sagging sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand and the remains of a packet of chips over his crumpled t-shirt.
“Grace, move aside, grab a seat. The game is about to start.”
“I need to speak to you, Mikey, do you mind?”
“Grace can't it wait till half time?”
I moved away from the television but by only a few steps and waited with my arms crossed.
Mikey blushed, put down the bottle of beer and got up slowly.
“Owned!” they shouted and threw broken potato chips at him.
“Come into my room, Grace.”
He led me into the disheveled pit he called a room. The bed was unmade, there was a pile of clothes about three inches high that covered the floor so the rug underneath couldn't be seen at all. There was an odd smell of petrol wafting up from somewhere which meant the whole block could have gone up in flames at any moment but I was too afraid to ask what it was. The side table by the bed had three open books on it, a magazine, two empty glasses and a torch. The table lamp was turned over on the floor and there was something green and lively in one of the glasses. The curtains were still closed.
“I thought you were sick?” I turn
ed to him.
“So did I, but when the guys said they were coming over to watch the game I suddenly felt better.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I was worried about you. I bought you soup.”
“Great, I'm starving.” He undid the top of the silicone mug and drank the entire contents of beef broth without stopping. “Great, did you bring croutons?”
“No I didn't bring croutons. Why did you lie? You know if you keep taking days off like this, you'll lose your job and how you gonna pay the rent on this little penthouse suite you got going here? And when the hell are you ever going to clean up this place.”
“Grace, stop sounding like my mom. Is that why you came? To soften me up with soup and then attack me?”
