was graceful, and I thought that he must be a good dancer. I like that in a man.
* * *
“Mr. Suri, how was your day?” I asked, coming in from outside with Svetlana in my arms.
“In order to be approved for a new septic system, it seems I have to join the Kiwanis Club.”
“I am familiar with these kinds of things. It was typical in Russia.”
“I’m not a joiner,” he said. “I just want a decent place for the you-know-what to go.”
“Mr. Suri, we have a situation.” I attempted to tell him about the comatose customer.
“We will have a very bad situation if I can’t properly deal with people’s—”
“Yes, well we have a man unconscious in room two.”
“Oh great, now the police will come. That’s all we need.”
“His lady friend didn’t want any help.”
“He’s alive, I hope?”
“I haven’t seen him, but all she wanted was ice.”
“I could use a drink myself.”
I liked how honest he was. “I have vodka,” I told him.
“They want me to contribute five hundred dollars to become a member of the local chapter, and then they’ll give me the permit to hire another member to dig the leach field that we need to make a proper septic system.”
“Leeches?” I asked.
“I wonder how many of the Kiwanis Club brothers are motel customers,” he asked. “I’ll see at the next meeting I go to.”
“That could be very good for business. Five hundred dollars is a small investment,” I added.
He played with his mustache. “What about this gentleman in room two?” he asked.
“I added another hour to their stay.”
“They have until four forty-five?” he asked.
“Correct. I’ll go knock on the door to see how they are doing.”
“I don’t think you should get involved, Stalina.”
“His lady friend sounded upset. I don’t mind helping out.”
“It’s on your own time,” he said sternly.
He put his hand on top of mine. His touch embarrassed and distracted me, and I dropped Svetlana. She scrambled under the desk and was trying to wiggle through a hole in the wall.
“I hope that cat will earn her keep and catch some mice,” he said, suddenly placing the hand that touched mine into his slacks pocket, and he jingled some loose coins. I stared at the pocket. The bottle of vodka was in the cabinet under the desk in between a broken fax machine and several rolls of toilet paper. I fumbled around for the cat and at the same time picked up the vodka.
“What’s that cat’s name again? Vodka?”
“No, Svet-lana,” I pronounced her name slowly, “like Stalin’s daughter, but Vodka’s a good name for a cat. Why leeches?”
“Stalina, didn’t you have plumbing in Russia?”
“Leningrad is a very civilized city. There is central plumbing. Sort of.”
“And what about in the country?”
“Leeches had nothing to do with it,” I said indignantly.
“Some other time I’ll explain about leach fields. What about room two? Or excuse me, the ‘Roller Coaster Fun Park.’ Those rooms might be causing more trouble than we need.”
I loved his efficiency, but he worried too much. Little Svetlana would be a good mouse catcher, and the rooms would make him money.
“The kitten needs to go back to the linen room, and then I’ll see what’s going on in roller coaster land.”
“Let her stay here—maybe she’ll catch something. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Stalina, please stop calling me sir.”
“Suri, I meant, Mr. Sur-i.”
Outside the wind had picked up again. I’d been monitoring the cracks in the concrete path along the front of the motel. They were getting bigger. The roots from the pine trees were growing under the driveway and breaking up the cement. Mr. Suri’s Delta ’88 was parked near the trees. He loved that car. It was his symbol of America. My symbol was the Liberty Motel and all it offered its guests. The freedom to love, to share an intimate time away from all your worries. Through my room designs, I
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