Cleopatra's Pillow

                       

By William M Balsamo
  

 

The train was five hours behind schedule and pulled into the station well past midnight. The platform was deserted and an occasional porter appeared with a wheeled cart in the hope of picking up a passenger burdened with luggage. Jake wore only a daypack and a look of confusion on his face. Where was he? He skimmed through his guidebook until he found the name of the city where he was.

 

  "Ah, here it is." he said out loud to no one in particular. "I guess there's got to be a place to stay somewhere near the station."

 

   Few people got off the train. Most were on schedule to go to the furthest destination. Jake was alone on the platform when the train departed letting out a whistle as it disappeared into the evening mist.

 

  At 1 a.m. it was eerily silent and even the station master held back his greeting. Outside the station there were few lighted buildings except one which appeared to be a hotel with dancing neon lights waltzing around its marquee.

 

Jake walked towards the entrance and noticed immediately once he entered the lobby that it was indeed a hotel with a solo woman as a receptionist. She was sitting in the glow of a soft light which let off a reddish glow,

 

    "Do you have a room for the night?" Jake asked sauntering up to the desk.

    "Yes, we do." she said letting a stream of smoke escape from both sides of her mouth through clenched teeth.

 

    Her greeting was not all that welcoming.

    "May I take it for the night? I just need a single room."

    "We don't have singles. All our rooms are doubles?"

    She looked at Jake suspiciously. "You mean you are alone?" Here question seemed to assert the incredulous.

    "Yes, I'm alone. But, I'll take the double anyway. How much is it?"

    "Fifty dollars. Here's your key." As she handed the key over to Jake she kissed the card and starred into his eyes, It was the kind of stare which opened into an empty and vacant room; the stare that knocked on doors in the middle of the night hoping for an answer.

 

   Jake went to the elevator and pushed the button to access the life. It hummed its way down from the fifth floor and settled with a sigh on the first. The doors hushed open and a fragrant whiff of lilac flowers escaped onto the lobby. The aroma was overwhelming, the smell one finds at funerals or weddings when all the guests have either arrived or departed.

 

    Jake stepped in and was surrounded by mirrors which made the space seem larger than it actually was and more spacious than it needed to be. A taped woman's voice came from nowhere wishing hi a good day, peaceful sleep and safe journey.

 

  He pushed the button for the second floor. the doors closed and then the opening chords of Beethoven's Moonlight sonata began to play without request or invitation. Lilacs and Etudes! What more can the weary traveler ask for on such a night as this when the train was six hours late.

 

   The elevator eased its way to a gentle stop and the doors once again opened. the hallway was awash in  a soft glow, the glow of dusk just before the sun has set and evening sinks upon two lovers lost on the banks of a lazy river. As soon as Jake got out of the elevator, the same woman's voice from the receptionist's desk begged him to be careful not to catch a cold and to check to make sure he had not forgotten anything in the elevator. From whence comes such concern? The voice of a maiden and the maternal love one first encounters when leaving the womb.

 

    Room 2005 - at the end of the corridor. Jake ppassed the key, which was really just a card, through a slot and the door slowly and ever so quietly opened. "Hush". it whispered..."Hush". Enter her and find your rest."

 

    Jake gave the door a gentle shove and the lights dimmed open automatically as one would expect at the theater or the opening of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet.

 

    As if on cue another whiff of flowers filled the air. It was the smell of roses this time mixed with carnations; the embalming fragrance to ward off death and deodorize underarms and to invite eternal life and undying love.

 

The hotel magically emitted scents every time doors opened and closed. They came floating on a breeze emitted from vents in the wall, on the ceilings and from crevices hidden beneath the floors. One could only suspect that in the subterranean basements of the building there were fields of flowers grown especially for this occasion.

 

   As jakes eyes adjusted to the new light his gaze scanned the room. The decor was definitely tacky but ultimately feminine. Carpets caressed the floor and drapes on the windows kept out not only the outside view but also any contact with that which was not of the room. The room was sealed off from whatever may have occurred outside. the drapes were so thick as to absorb the sounds of conversation within the room. A small table with glass top, two wrought iron chairs and wrought iron frame was in the center of the room and two wine glasses with a small carafe of 'house wine' set the mood for intimacy. The walls had reproductions of classical art; a Cezanne nude, a van Gogh sunflower. Both ideally suited to add a classical touch to a night of sin.

 

   An attached bathroom was immaculately clean with condoms laid out on a tray next to the soap dish. The bathtub was large enough for a couple to sit and entwine and a small shelf near the tub was an alternate setting for the wine glasses. Jake thought to himself that this was a hotel for special occasions for ordinary people who felt special to one another.

   But, being alone and sweaty from a long ride and laden with a dusty backpack, the romantic setting of the room was more amusing than inviting and strangely uncomfortable,

 

   He took a quick shower and called reception.

  "Yes...?" came a woman's vice. Perhaps the same one which kissed the door key. 

   "This is Room 205," Jake decided to withdraw his name and to keep the matter businesslike and impersonal.

  "Can I help you?*

  "Yes, as a matter of fact you can. I would like a wakeup call in the morning around six."

   "Sorry, sir," came the soft-spoken, impersonal reply. "But, we don7t make wake-up calls. Follow the instructions on your phone and dial-in the time you want to be awoken."

    Then she hung up.

 

    Jake fumbled around the phone for instructions and found a laminated card in several languages. "You can dial-in your own wake-in call. Press the asterisk on your hone and dial in the time you want to be awakened." Pictures and diagrams on the card made it an easy procedure even for a child to follow. Although one would hardly think of the hotel as having children as guests,

 

    As soon as Jake sat on the bed the lights began to dim and another whiff of floral fragrance drifted across the room. Was it lilacs? At this time of night Jake could no longer be sure.

 

 he lay back on the bed and noticed the ceiling was a wall to wall mirror. The dimmed light of the room let off a soft glow and the glass ceiling was blurry at the edges giving the mood of soft porn, an excellent view for those who prefer to be "bottom." the room continued to dim as though the final scene of Salome were about to unfold. Then there was total darkness with only the soft hum of the air-conditioner beating a rhythm at the same pace as the beating of the human heart,

 

At six in the morning the phone rang and Jake reached out and grabbed the receiver.

   "This is your morning wake-up call. It is 6 a.m. in the morning, September 26th, Saturday. Please have a nice day." then came the gentle explosion of puckered lips followed by a dial tone.

 

   Jake pulled open the drapery shades to get a view of the day awash with sun, to experience the view from his window. Across the street was a parking lot and a construction site with a crew of workers assembling themselves for a day of banging and destruction.

 

   A week later back at his office Jake was sitting at his desk and a colleague reached over and asked him if he could borrow a book of matches which lay in an ashtray on the desk.

   "Hey, Jake, where did you get this box of matches?"

   "Oh," I picked them up at a hotel where I was staying on the last day of my trip.

   Across the box in foreign script was written several words and a logo,

   *This here says the name of the hotel is Cleopatra's pillow."