onto the back of the hotel, where a rusty swing set stood among weeds and garbage.
When Joanes asked if there was any chance of having an additional bed, the girl said that they could hang a hammock and pointed to some meat hooks screwed into the ceiling for that purpose.
“The bathroom is next to the kitchen,” she added.
“Just one for the whole hotel?”
“There are two,” answered the girl, monotone. “A ladies’ room and a men’s room. There are two showers, too.”
Joanes flicked the lamp switch, but it didn’t go on.
“There’s no light,” he said.
“It’s been cut,” said the girl. “For the hurricane.”
“A lready?”
“Yeah, a while ago.”
Joanes let out a sigh and then asked, “How far to Valladolid from here?”
“Fifty miles or so,” said the girl. “Driving it’s around an hour, but if the road’s backed up . . .”
“It is.”
“Impossible to say, then. Are you gonna take the room?”
She looked from one to the other, waiting for an answer.
“What do you think?” Joanes asked the professor.
“It has four walls and a door. Just what you wanted.”
“It could be we just have to stay one night. We’ll leave tomorrow, if the weather clears up.”
“Are you here because of the hurricane?” the girl asked.
Joanes nodded.
“A load of people have come because of that. If you don’t take the room now, someone else will,” she said, in her usual lifeless tone, barely opening her mouth.
The professor shot her a less than kindly look.
“I have to discuss it with my wife,” he said, leaving the room.
Shortly after, Joanes joined the elderly couple out by the car. They were bickering under their breath.
“Have you made up your minds?”
“I’m just explaining to my wife that the room isn’t very comfortable.”
“It’s more comfortable than the car. And it’ll seem even more so when the wind picks up. She won’t be any better off in Valladolid sleeping in a hallway or a gym.”
“Listen to the boy,” said the wife. “He’s right.”
“You don’t want to stay?” Joanes asked the professor.
“I don’t like this place. I’d take our chances and keep going.”
And after a pause, he added, “We have one vote in favor of staying and another against, so you decide.”
Joanes thought how with the electricity already cut, charging his phone was no longer a reason to stay. But he was tired and hungry, and he didn’t feel like heading back into that traffic jam for God only knew how long. To say nothing of the hurricane. Without them even noticing, the sky had filled with heavy, gray clouds.
“We’ll bed down here till tomorrow,” he said. “I think that’s best.”
“What about your family?” asked the professor.
“They’ll be fine. I’ll call them and explain what’s happened.”
The professor stared at him.
“So it’s decided,” he said. “Even though, given that we’re dependent on you, the truth is our opinions count for little. We’re in your hands.”
“I’ll talk to the owner,” responded Joanes, refusing to take the bait, and he walked off, leaving the elderly couple to go on exchanging whispers.
“We’ll take it.”
The owner nodded, satisfied, and without taking his eyes off the barbecue. He was putting a lot of care and attention into his work. Despite the fact that there were other men around, not one offered him their help or advice on how best to cook the meat, as one might expect.
“How much is the room?”
The owner gave his price. It was more than the room was worth, but in the current circumstances, reasonable enough.
“How long are you going to stay?”
“A night. Two, at most. Do you want payment now?”
“No, don’t worry. We’ll discuss that tomorrow. There’s a lot of folks here,” he added, waving his meat fork toward the mass. “There’s no way of you slipping away without me knowing about it.”
“Why is it called the English Residence?”
“An English couple lived here
When Joanes asked if there was any chance of having an additional bed, the girl said that they could hang a hammock and pointed to some meat hooks screwed into the ceiling for that purpose.
“The bathroom is next to the kitchen,” she added.
“Just one for the whole hotel?”
“There are two,” answered the girl, monotone. “A ladies’ room and a men’s room. There are two showers, too.”
Joanes flicked the lamp switch, but it didn’t go on.
“There’s no light,” he said.
“It’s been cut,” said the girl. “For the hurricane.”
“A lready?”
“Yeah, a while ago.”
Joanes let out a sigh and then asked, “How far to Valladolid from here?”
“Fifty miles or so,” said the girl. “Driving it’s around an hour, but if the road’s backed up . . .”
“It is.”
“Impossible to say, then. Are you gonna take the room?”
She looked from one to the other, waiting for an answer.
“What do you think?” Joanes asked the professor.
“It has four walls and a door. Just what you wanted.”
“It could be we just have to stay one night. We’ll leave tomorrow, if the weather clears up.”
“Are you here because of the hurricane?” the girl asked.
Joanes nodded.
“A load of people have come because of that. If you don’t take the room now, someone else will,” she said, in her usual lifeless tone, barely opening her mouth.
The professor shot her a less than kindly look.
“I have to discuss it with my wife,” he said, leaving the room.
Shortly after, Joanes joined the elderly couple out by the car. They were bickering under their breath.
“Have you made up your minds?”
“I’m just explaining to my wife that the room isn’t very comfortable.”
“It’s more comfortable than the car. And it’ll seem even more so when the wind picks up. She won’t be any better off in Valladolid sleeping in a hallway or a gym.”
“Listen to the boy,” said the wife. “He’s right.”
“You don’t want to stay?” Joanes asked the professor.
“I don’t like this place. I’d take our chances and keep going.”
And after a pause, he added, “We have one vote in favor of staying and another against, so you decide.”
Joanes thought how with the electricity already cut, charging his phone was no longer a reason to stay. But he was tired and hungry, and he didn’t feel like heading back into that traffic jam for God only knew how long. To say nothing of the hurricane. Without them even noticing, the sky had filled with heavy, gray clouds.
“We’ll bed down here till tomorrow,” he said. “I think that’s best.”
“What about your family?” asked the professor.
“They’ll be fine. I’ll call them and explain what’s happened.”
The professor stared at him.
“So it’s decided,” he said. “Even though, given that we’re dependent on you, the truth is our opinions count for little. We’re in your hands.”
“I’ll talk to the owner,” responded Joanes, refusing to take the bait, and he walked off, leaving the elderly couple to go on exchanging whispers.
“We’ll take it.”
The owner nodded, satisfied, and without taking his eyes off the barbecue. He was putting a lot of care and attention into his work. Despite the fact that there were other men around, not one offered him their help or advice on how best to cook the meat, as one might expect.
“How much is the room?”
The owner gave his price. It was more than the room was worth, but in the current circumstances, reasonable enough.
“How long are you going to stay?”
“A night. Two, at most. Do you want payment now?”
“No, don’t worry. We’ll discuss that tomorrow. There’s a lot of folks here,” he added, waving his meat fork toward the mass. “There’s no way of you slipping away without me knowing about it.”
“Why is it called the English Residence?”
“An English couple lived here
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