“I’ll stay with Soph.”
He said.
I looked at him.
“Thanks.”
The hallway carpet had a geometric blue pattern I still remember with ridiculous clarity.
I passed 728.
The door looked ordinary.
Brass numbers.
Do not disturb card absent.
Nothing about it suggested a life could change behind it.
I raised my hand.
Knocked.
No answer.
I waited.
Knocked again.
This time, I heard something.
Music.
Low.
Then laughter.
A man’s laughter.
My body recognized the sound before my mind allowed meaning.
I stood completely still.
Maybe television.
Maybe colleagues.
Maybe room next door.
I took out my phone.
Typed:
I'm outside your room. Open the door.
Delivered.
The music stopped.
So did the laughter.
My heartbeat became so loud I could hear it in my ears.
Movement inside.
A muffled voice.
Male.
Then Rebecca’s voice.
Too quiet to understand.
I closed my eyes.
There are moments when uncertainty is kinder than knowledge.
That was the last one.
The door opened approximately six inches.
Rebecca stood there.
White hotel robe.
Bare legs.
Hair disheveled.
No wedding ring.
Her face changed faster than I thought faces could.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Fear.
Then something that hurt almost as much as the rest.
Annoyance.
“Mike?”
I looked at her.
She opened the door enough to step into the hallway, then pulled it nearly shut behind her.
“What are you doing here?”
For a second, I could not speak.
Of everything she might have said, those were the words.
What are you doing here?
Not:
Oh my God.
Not:
Are the kids okay?
Not:
What happened?
I laughed once.
A dry sound.
“Surprise.”
Rebecca stared.
“The kids and I flew up.”
Her eyes widened.
“The kids?”
“They're in room 732.”
Color disappeared from her face.
“You brought them?”
I looked at the robe.
Her hair.
The closed door.
“I brought our children to surprise their mother.”
Rebecca looked down the hallway.
“Mike, you should have called.”
That sentence entered me like broken glass.
“I did.”
She swallowed.
“I mean before coming here.”
“I called yesterday.”
“Three times today.”
“Texted.”
“You knew I was working.”
“I knew you were apparently too busy to answer your family.”
She lowered her voice.
“Please.”
“Who's inside?”
“Mike.”
“Who is inside the room?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“This may be the simplest question I have ever asked you.”
The door behind her opened.
A man appeared.
Tall.
Early forties.
Dark hair.
Dress shirt half-buttoned.
No shoes.
He looked at me.
Then Rebecca.
“Becca?”
That nickname hurt more than it should have.
It had been mine since our second year together.
“Is everything okay?”
I stared at him.