Jaime’s bed is stripped bare.  The room is completely empty except for the furniture.  The nightstand is free of clutter.  Jaime picks up a limp backpack and walks out of the room.

Image Credit: Eris Stassi

Boxes are stacked neatly next to the couch in the living room.  Nothing remains on the walls.  He carries the backpack out the door.

Jaime climbs into a silver car, backs out of his space and drives away.

Moments later, the same space becomes occupied with a black SUV.  Jaime’s dad puts the car into park and turns off the engine.  Jaime’s mom is in the passenger seat.

DAD: I hope this works.

MOM: Thank you for being here.

DAD: I’m sorry about everything, Fran.  From before and after, and everything in between.  And I feel extraordinarily guilty that this is what it took for me to realize that.

Fran touches his face and smiles.

MOM: I still have the hots for you, Dan.

He laughs.

DAD:  Me, too.  I’ve always loved myself a lot.

She laughs and hits him.

Mom and Dad stand outside Jaime’s door.  There’s a note attached to it.  Dad takes it off.

MOM: What’s it say?

DAD: “I’m not at home tonight.  Love you.  Jaime.”

MOM: Should we call the police?

DAD: Whole lotta good that’ll do.  I didn’t see his car in the parking lot.  He could be at a thousand different places.

MOM: We could file a missing persons report.

DAD: Why don’t we just go home?

MOM: Just go home!?

DAD: And pray.

***

Jaime’s bag is slumped over one shoulder as he enters the hotel lobby.  He walks to the front desk.

He turns to the waiting area where he sees one small child jumping on a couch, another rolling a toy car in the middle of the floor, and another drawing peacefully on a coffee table in front of the loveseat

An attendant at the counter is talking on the phone and typing into a computer.  He stares at the loud, reckless boys.  The attendant puts down the phone and sighs loudly.

ATTENDANT: Can I help you, sir?

Jaime takes a credit card from his wallet and hands it to the man.

JAIME: Reservation for Jaime O’Malley.

ATTENDANT: Sure.

The man types into the computer and slides the card.

JAIME: Kids giving you trouble?

ATTENDANT: Their parents seem to think that I’m a babysitter.

JAIME: You’re not?

ATTENDANT: Surprised me, too.  You’ll be in 101, just around the corner.

JAIME: What time does housekeeping come around?

ATTENDANT: About ten in the morning.

He hands the card back to Jaime.

JAIME: I’ll be checking out early, will there be someone at the desk?

ATTENDANT: Yeah, I’ll be here.

JAIME: Ooh, long night.  Lemme help you out.

Jaime walks over to the kid pouncing on the couch, points downward with a stern face and the kid sits immediately.

He walks to the child in the middle of the floor and points to the couch, speaking inaudibly, and the car toting kid sits on the couch as well.

Jaime then walks over to the other child and sits.  He peers at the child’s scribbles and sees a piece of paper covered with scratched out tic-tac-toe games.

JAIME: What are you playing?

CHILD: Tic-tac-toe.

JAIME: Who are you playing against?

CHILD: Myself.

JAIME: Who’s winning?

The boy looks up at him and smiles.

CHILD: Well, I’ve played forty-seven times and I can’t find a way to win.  It’s really not a fun game anymore.

JAIME: If you can’t win, and it’s no fun, then why do you keep playing?

CHILD: I don’t know.

***

Jaime walks through the hallway where he comes to room 101 and opens the door.

Jaime enters the room and locks the door behind him.  He walks into the room.  He places his bag in the bathroom, on the counter.  Jaime grabs the remote control from the top of the television and plops onto the bed.  He turns the TV on.

Later, the television flickers in the dark.  Jaime rouses awake on top of the not-so-taught comforter.  He looks at the alarm clock’s glowing red display. 11:47.

Jaime gets up and takes off his windbreaker, dropping it on the bed.  He moves to the bathroom. He turns on the harsh white light.  He splashes water on his face from the running faucet.  He grabs a crisp towel from the stack behind him and pats his face dry.

He takes toothpaste and a brush from his bag and brushes his teeth.

He wets his hair and perfects his part.  He turns off the light.  He turns on the lamp from the desk.  Jaime writes a note on the hotel’s stationary: Housekeeping — call the police and send them to 1221 W. 12th street.

Jaime puts on his jacket, turns off the light, grabs his bag, and walks out of the door.  The clock blinks.  12:00.