Warm and Friendly Faces
The frost on the windows filtered the streetlights and neon signs in a magnificent, blurry glow. Machinery could be heard in the distance, and the sidewalks mostly empty except for the occasional passerby, some times unkempt or homeless. Often looking into the glow of a phone. Always alone.
The hotel lobby was silent. Lorne was standing behind the counter and stare blankly outside, clenching his left hand into a fist that always left an imprint of his fingernails on his palms. His right hand would reach occasionally for a cup of lukewarm, thin coffee and take a long sip that would not hit his tongue. His glossy eyes glanced at his watch every few minutes. It had stopped working weeks before, but somehow he kept forgetting.
He felt something touch his shoulder and arched his back suddenly. "Hey buddy," Dennis, the maintenance guy said. "Look what I got."
It was almost always some sort of adult magazine he knew he had to show him. And he did not disappoint. Dennis shoved its pages into Lorne's face and give him a crooked smile that revealed his yellowing teeth and wrinkled his forehead into his receding hairline.
"C'mon, it's like you don't like girls or something," he said. "This ones breasts look kind of like your girls'. How is she, anyway? You guys still taking that trip? To the ocean or something?"
Lorne took another sip from the paper cup and shoved the magazine out of his face.
"She's fine. Hey, don't you have anything to do?"
"Nope, and neither do you," he said, still thumbing through the wrinkled pages with a wolf-like grin. "And anyway, I won't be needing trash like this in a few months when me and the girl get hitched. I'd invite you and your girl, but you know. She wants to keep it a small ceremony. Just aunts and uncles and stuff."
"That's alright with me, Dennis. Why on earth would I want to go to your wedding anyway?" Lorne said with a half-hearted smile. He stepped from behind the counter and sat on the lobby couch, picking up a magazine left on the table about fishing and acting like he was reading it.
Dennis put his magazine on the counter and looked hurt.
"I was just joking," Lorne said. "And you say I'm sensitive. What do you care if I wanted to come to your wedding or not anyway, if I'm not invited? Don't worry. I'll make sure you still get a good cutting board or blender."
The nearby elevator made a high pitched beep and opened. Lorne jumped from the lobby couch and ran behind the counter,quickly hiding Dennis' magazine. Dennis tried to look like he was inspecting the heating panel in the lobby.
A woman in a long purple dress stepped carefully out of the elevator, dragging a boy around the age of six behind her by the arm and was breathing loudly. Her hair was tied back and she wore dark sunglasses even though it was around eleven at night. She then walked quickly to the counter.
"Sir! Are there any bars around the area?" she asked quickly to Lorne.
"There are three within the block," Lorne responded,"the most popular one is just a few doors down to the right of here."
"Mom,"the little boy whispered while tugging her arm. "I forgot my coat."
"Well, we don't have time to get it. You'll just have to freeze a little and remember next time."
"But my leaves are in it. The leaves I found. From that tree we saw after lunch. I wanted to look at them.
She quickly dragged him with her outside without thanking Lorne.
"I hate being called sir,"Lorne said.
Dennis quickly stopped acting like he was working and sat in a spare seat behind the counter, pulling out his magazine from under the desk.
"Well she was a *****," he said.
Lorne just nodded and started looking out the window again. The gray clouds and sharp wind looked unwelcoming. Like their fierceness would beat bright red marks on your face and take the moisture from your lips, leaving them scaly and sore.
"What did I tell you about that?" Dennis asked, throwing a pen at Lorne's head.
"About what?" He straightened his hair when the pen had hit him.
"Took you four times to answer me. About thinking so much. It's like you leave us and go out to your own little world. Everything you could ever want is right here!" Dennis smirked.
Lorne grabbed the magazine from his hand.
"So true!" He said, and stuffed it into a drawer. "Now get this out of sight before someone sees it."
Dennis laughed at him and walked over to the coffee machine. He slowly poured himself some into his smiley face mug and added three large spoonfuls of sugar. He brought the sweet creation to his mouth and frowned.
"We shouldn't even bother with this shit anymore. You should bring us some decent stuff from down the block," he said while holding his rejected mug away from him.
"Are you going to watch the lobby? That never seems to turn out well," Lorne replied.
"I think I'll stand here and stare into nothingness for a while. It seems to work out for you."
Dennis reached into his pocket and pulled out some wadded up dollar bills that looked as if they had been through a washing machine a few times and threw them into Lorne's general direction, letting him pick them up off the floor. He looked up to Dennis with his mouth gaping open to say something, but quickly shut it and reluctantly picked them up.
Without speaking, he walked to the front sliding door. It almost didn't open for him, moving slowly and indecisively. He and Dennis would often joke that it wouldn't open for people without a soul. He walked slowly to his car and his shoes clicked the pavement with each step and it echoed hollowly. He put his cold hand onto the door to open it but paused, looking at his reflection. His sloping eyes, his slightly opened lips, and his cheeks that were glowing red already from the cold. He let go of the door and continued down the sidewalk.
Lorne's breath was a thick fog in the cold air and snowflakes were falling. Between all the skyscrapers, the reflection of streetlights caused the flakes to look like shattered glass falling into the streets. He had forgotten his coat at the hotel. But his wallet was in the front-right pocket of his jeans, along with some complementary breath mints and a book of matches. He put his swollen and numb hands into his pocket and clenched them tightly.
The restaurant was a few blocks away and was always open. The food was often greasy, the coffee a bit grainy, but it was always there and you didn't have to look far. At any time of day or night you wanted them.
Its sign of invitation was as bright as ever, simply reading "Food" and offering just what it promised. He opened the heavy metal door and heard the little bell above it ring, telling everyone there that someone had just entered. They would always look up momentarily when it rang. A few others were there, scattered apart from each other. An old woman with thick glasses and purple hair, smoking a cigarette and watching the front door as if she was waiting for someone. A large man with a brown baseball cap who was hunched over his breakfast of pancakes and sausages, looking as if someone would try and steal them from him at any moment. And a few people sitting at the counter, watching the staff stand around and gossip.
Lorne didn't realize that a worker had been waiting impatiently to be acknowledged while he was looking around and imagining why on earth these other people were there so late.
"Excuse me," she said.
"Oh, sorry." Lorne replied, scratching the back of his cold head.
"Did you want a booth or table?"
He started to tell her he just wanted a few coffees to go when he recognized the kid at the counter from earlier that night with the horrible mother with the sunglasses and purple dress. But she wasn't with him. Just a large man sitting nearby that didn't seem to be with him.
"I think I'll sit at the counter," he said.
He walked over and sat two seats down from him. The boy was sitting there, looking cold and shivering a little. He was looking quickly and with widened eyes at each of the people that passed him and drinking slowly from a cup of hot chocolate with a high foam on it. When a waitress came and asked what he wanted, Lorne ordered himself the same thing.
The large man to the right of the boy was speaking loudly on is cell phone with an ear attachment. He was pressing it further and further into his head in excitement.
"I really don't care," the man said. "At this point in the game, we just gotta buck up and take a few losses and...."
He continued loudly and the boy placed his hand on his ear in imitation, and gave a toothy smile to Lorne.
"He can't help it, you know," Lorne said, pointing to the man. "He's part robot. He has that thing attached to his ear and receives constant transmissions from all the other robots."
"He's not a robot. He just acts like one," the boy replied.
"No, he's a robot alright. Just a voluntary one. When given the choice of being a human or machine, he stood in a long line on the first day they released that thing and couldn't wait to attach it to himself. His life is so much simpler now and he is now able to hear from anyone who decides they need him at any time."
The large man glared at him angrily.
"Do you mind? I'm on the phone. Could you keep it down?"
He got up and slammed a few dollars onto the counter and stormed out the door.
"That was certainly very rude of me." Lorne said.
The kid was no longer paying attention to him and swirling patterns with his fingertips of some hot chocolate he had spilled. He stared at the brown droplets intensely, making squares and triangles and stick men. The waitress brought Lorne his hot chocolate and he decided to leave the kid alone. He wasn't even sure why he ordered hot chocolate.
"Do you like your job?" the kid asked.
The question caught him by surprise and he quickly shook his head.
"I figured standing around in a hotel all night when nobody checks in and most people were sleeping would be really easy."
"It is very easy," Lorne replied while nodding. "Where is your mom?"
"She went to the bar you told her about. I get to wait here until she's done. Maybe until morning. People are nice here though."
"They seem to be. Tell me about those leaves you talked about earlier," Lorne said.
"Are you married?" the kid asked, ignoring him.
"No."
"How about a girlfriend? I'm sure she would miss you with the late shifts you work."
"Not anymore," Lorne said in a shaky voice. "Not for a while."
"Why not?" the boy asked.
"Oh, you know. The usual. I don't really like to talk about it."
"That could be the problem," he replied and took another sip. "They should really make these hot chocolates about half liquid and half cream. I think I need to go to the bathroom soon."
"Does your mom do this kind of thing often? "Lorne asked.
"What kind of thing?" the kid replied.
"Leave you all by yourself. At this time of night. With all kinds of strange people around."
An oven timer started beeping loudly and quickly.
"Why are you even talking to me anyway?" he asked.
Lorne seemed not know why and stopped replying. He stared straight ahead to a display case of different pies. The heating vent above him was making a sharp squealing sound, distinct and shrill with the sudden silence. He started to scratch the back of his neck and sniffed his nostrils twice. The vent's hum became lower and Lorne started feeling the curves and irregularities of his face, stopping to put pressure on the area above his nose and between his eyes. His gaze was fixed upon the floor right past the counter where a piece of buttered toast had fallen and become squished between the floor tiles by people walking over it. A greasy film had become extracted from it and surrounded the island of bread, alone and compressed further with each step.
The hum stopped and Lorne nearly dropped his cup. His eyes widened and found that his company had left without him noticing. He pushed himself up from his seat and walked out the door. Slowly and intently stepping down the sidewalk, he saw people along the street. People who turned their heads as he approached to avoid eye contact. People sitting on porch steps looking out expectantly for someone that wasn't him. People huddled in corners with hoods over their heads, their eyes and mouths obscured by shadows. Just a spark of light from a cigarette. He unknowingly nodded at them all, almost expecting an invitation.
Lorne came to the bar that the kid's mom likely was still inside. A warm neon light filled the sidewalk and lit up his body as he approached. The falling snow absorbed the light and suddenly looked like Christmas, alive and exciting, full of songs and laughter.
A man at the door looked at him and smiled, a bright purple light glowing on his cheek bones.
"It's cold out there!" He said happily. "Come inside and warm up!"
Lorne smiled back and nodded, stepping inside quickly. Just for a little while.
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