I clear my throat and force myself to stand straighter. “Um, yes. I would like some help with…the safe-deposit box in my room.”
“Oh.” She pauses, expecting more.
“I think something went wrong when I tried to lock it.”
She smiles a little brighter now, reassured that this is a problem she can handle. “I’ll send someone right up to fix that for you.” She pushes her red locks off her face, glancing behind me at the woman who just walked through the door.
“We will take care of it, madame,” she adds when I still haven’t moved.
She gives me a slight nod. It might be meant as encouraging, but I read it as,Now if you could please get the fuck out of here…I have way more important things to do.
***
My heart jumps at the sound of a knock. I’m lying on the bed, and I must have fallen asleep.
“Yes,” I say, or at least I try to. My mouth feels so dry. I look around for water, anything to relieve the discomfort, when another knock comes. “Je viens!” I call out.
On the other side of the door, Amir, the guy who checked me in yesterday, leans in with a sheepish smile.
“You need help,” he says. A statement, not a question.
I do, but I don’t really want to let this stranger inside my room and be alone with him. Then again, I’m itching to check my phone, so I move out of the doorframe to let him in and follow his gaze as he scans the space. Since there is no wardrobe, I’ve stacked up my new purchases in piles on the floor: cotton bras with delicate lace trims, tops with different types of stripes, another pair of jeans, the ballet flats, a straw hat, and a plain baseball cap. The dresses and skirts dangle from the exposed rail. To anoutsider, it might look like I’ve been enjoying the benefits of the most fashionable city in the world. Like I’m actually a thirty-year-old newlywed on her honeymoon.
“Your safe is locked?” Amir says.
“Yes. I think I remember the code wrong. I’m a little tired.” I attempt a chuckle, then shake my head. What was I thinking before? I was never going to last without my phone. My lifeline. My only way to check on…
“Jet lag,” he says, pulling up his dress pants and kneeling down in front of the safe. “It happens.”
I sit on the bed while he retrieves a key from his pocket. Moments later, the door opens with a creak, revealing my phone tucked in with all the cash.
I don’t owe him an explanation, but the silence between us as he gets back up is killing me. I’m sure he thinks it’s weird that I put my phone inside the safe, but he doesn’t let on.
“People leave their chargers here all the time. So I brought you this.”
He takes a phone charger out of his pocket. The relief on my face must be obvious as I snatch it from him.
“Thank you,” I say, getting down to plug it in by the side of the bed.
“So no news on your…luggage?”
I shake my head, hoping that will be enough to get him to leave. Then, I press the home button on my phone, which only flashes with the recharge battery sign, as it does when it is fully flat.
Amir walks over to the door and turns around. “How is…” He trails off, then swallows. “Your hon…your holiday, I mean?”
“Great,” I say, my throat tight. His eyes drop to my ring finger, which I start rubbing mindlessly. Of course it’s bare. I’m not the marrying kind. Never was. Never will be.
He glances at my left hand once more, then grabs the door handle, ready to leave. “If you’re free,” he says, emphasizing the “free” and all of itsmeanings, “we could go for a drink one night.”
I like that he doesn’t say that he’ll take me for a drink, that women aren’t something he gets to parade around and dispose of however he wishes.
But I haven’t responded, so he says it again, “If you’re free.”
There’s a spark in his eye. In another life, I would have said yes before he’d had time to finish his sentence. If a man wanted me, I let him have me, wondering how he could possibly be interested. I would go for the drink, and then I would putter around while he pulled out his wallet, pretending to be flattered when in fact I was too broke to pay for it myself. And way too ashamed to admit it. I worked multiple jobs and I had so little to show for it.
“I need to…” I say, pointing at my phone.
“Of course. I hope you enjoy Paris. Most people think it can be lonely to travel alone, but I disagree. In a foreign place, no one’s there to judge you. You get to be whoever you want and do whatever you like. I like your new hair, by the way. It suits you.”
