Hotel Rendezvous (Slippery Night Creams)

One bare bulb lit the main entrance of the dilapidated building, which needed a fresh coat of paint, the crumpled paper in my hand coincided with the name above on the plastic awning; "Hotel Rendezvous". I had found the wrinkled notepad in my pocket earlier as I was happily going about my day. But here, a gray foggy tinge loomed in the atmosphere, rather like the opening scenes to an offensive horror picture or a bad dream, but curiosity has been liable for sullying countless happy days...

Once inside I found myself in a dark dimly lit corridor, bare plaster, cracked walls and an unloved smell about the place. I had a menacing feeling of being watched and followed, which turned out not so far from the truth. First one person appeared then another, I could feel them just behind me and it was making me very nervous, hurrying along they kept up, and as I approached apartment 114 one of them dodged in front of me quickly knocking on the door. My heart was racing and I could feel my pulse right through my clothing as the door slowly opened. I stepped back out of sight and the two people pushed thought the doorway, I wondered why there was so much interest in visiting my wife's room, I looked again at the name on that piece of crumpled paper, I had read it correctly. Lydia, room 114.

Not really understanding what was going on I suddenly sensed that I was not expected to be there; the feeling of jealousy building up in the pit of my stomach forewarned me of my natural impulse, and I was frozen in the spot. Only a few seconds had passed but now I was frantic and pushing my way into the hotel room, only to find two older looking men laying on single beds and my wife struggling to explain. Well, as you can imagine I felt the sudden compulsion to thump and kick, and not listening to the desperate pleas of innocence coming from my significant other I left my angry mark on the festivities and stormed out.

I was very surprise to find the police waiting for me as I ran from the building, almost as if it was all predestined, the next thing I knew I was standing before a judge. I could clearly hear the magistrate from where he sat, on his priceless leather seat, a stoutly well fed fellow full of the best intentions and not fully appreciative of my bloody outburst in the hotel room, and also disregarding my rage of passion as a defense. After a thoughtful look and clearing his bacon lined throat coughed up his decision. "There are no good reasons for acting like you did", he said, "and although you claim to have been caught up the passion of the moment, caused by your wife's infidelities, it is nevertheless an inappropriate measure". It was all a candid eye opener for me, a real awakening from my nightmare. Six months in the lock-up is what I had to show for my rampage, me, I'm the guilty one, and it's up to me to pay the debt to society.

Today I'm cleaning the latrines and to look at me you would only see contempt on my face, up to my neck in crap leaves me to count unlikely blessings. A comforting visit from my estranged wife gives me hope; her beautiful smile fills me with confidence. Further visits produce total forgiveness and the touch of her hand reduces the rest of my time to the bare minimum.

The next thing I know, I'm on my way to see my loving wife, still reeking of time spent and cloths to bear out the wholesome services performed during my incarceration. Not a pretty sight but with a squint of one eye I feel more like I'm back from the war, a hero maybe. However, the closer I got the dirtier I felt and as I arrived at the Convention Centre I became more and more alienated from my resolve. Catching site of myself in the glass didn't help matters either and it was obvious to me that I was still an outsider in my wife's world, here she's meeting with her equals, the dress code was somewhere between tiara's and midnight mass, not the place for the likes of me I thought. Uncomfortable as I was the excitement of surprising my wife was far too overwhelming to resist, and after confirming her room number with the front desk I continued through the lobby and into the elevator.

Surprisingly I ran into an old friend and his family, they were so glad to see me, I even got a nice hug from their children. "Its great see you", they said. "We haven't seen you for ages", I was more focused on my devoted wife being so close, I could only think of the tender reunion waiting for me upstairs as I left them behind in the elevator. It seemed like forever as I walked along the corridors, running into more people I knew and getting more directions to my wife's room. Time seemed to slow the closer I got, making me more anxious and aware of myself. The hero returns in rags I thought to myself, and it became a struggle to walk. She wasn't in her room when I got there so my search persisted, again running into everyone else I knew but not Lydia, where was she?

Ted seemed to appear out of nowhere, "hey, how-ya-doin", he said with a nervous chant. Where's Lydia? I asked him, I'm having a hell of a time finding her. Well Ted was never one for pulling punches, I've seen her with Duncan the last couple of days, "Duncan" I said, are we talking about the same Duncan? I joked, "yes we are" he said has he glanced nerviously at the ceiling.

I don"t remember the following series of events that well, but I do recall my heart pounding, a quickened step, clenched fists, tight lips forming every curse word ever known, frantic searching in dark spaces, Duncan's frightened face as I closed in, Lydia's fruitless cries of innocence as I finally caught up with them. What can I say, it was a real nightmare; my life was no longer worth living and I no longer cared, the horror of a reoccurring theme became overwhelming to the point of rage, I just lost it. It was time to do the honorable thing again, and defending my wife's virtue was becoming second nature to me, of course I would forgive her but her secret admirer, my old friend Duncan would have to pay the going rate for his sins. I tightened my fists...

I suddenly awoke in a panic, sweat dripping down my neck and the bed sheet wrapped around me like a straight-jacket, the bedroom blurred through my startled eyes. As I looked around I slowly realized it was really only a dream, a very bad dream but only a dream. Lydia lay sleeping peacefully beside me, her face reflecting an innocence reserved just for angels. The fluffy down quilt pulled right up to her pink shiny nose, curlers in her hair, no make-up, what a treasure she was. Just then she knowingly rolled over to face the other way and I thought how appropriate, now I get to look at the backside. It's funny really because I felt I had to apologies to her for doubting her love, it was just a dream, my dream but I felt terrible for it. I stood up and went around to her side of the bed, but there wasn't much of her face showing between the sheets, so I decided to fluff them up. I always like it when she takes the quilt and top sheet and wafts them, filling them with the cool morning air; it feels so fresh and extravagant when she does it so I thought I would do the same for her. I noticed a little curl in her lips as she slept and mistaking it for some sort of acknowledgment I decided to give her a little kiss and a squeeze, it uncurled her lips to the upside down variety. Rejected again, this time with me in awake mode, just great, after my nightmarish trivial pursuit I get cast off like an unwanted old boot.

I stood back and looked at her and I though to myself, go back to your dreams my treasure, you deserve my old friend Duncan, nobody ever liked him anyway so you're welcome to him. I hope he loves you, especially with your curlers and your slippery night creams...

Written by: John Ellis
Published by: Music Borders
www.musicborders.com