The short drive uptown takes longer than it would have to walk with the Saturday traffic, but soon we pull up to Rita's building.
The door is opened immediately as we walk up, a middle-aged man holding it for us. We walk into the lobby and are greeted by a pretty, young woman behind the desk. Her eyes skim over me and land on Beau. She gasps but recovers quickly. It’s then I realize he's not wearing his hat, so she's probably recognized him. Is that how it will be from now on, I wonder.
"May I help you sir?" She addresses only him.
I answer, "I am having a friend stay in my unit indefinitely, he needs to be added to the list of guests, please."
"Certainly, will you require a change in locks, sir?" Her eyes on Beau as she addresses him while replying to my request.
I look over at Brian, he finds the interaction not the least bit surprising, so I casually ask, “Brian you want to change the locks?”
I give him a wide-eyed look, silently questioning if this is how it always is with Beau. His brows raise and his eyes widen as he nods to me, while declining the request to change the locks.
The young lady’s cheeks pink upbehind the deskthe tiniest bit when Beau places his arm around my waist. I feel my own face heat, and I am curious if my face looks the same.
She looks down, a little dazed, but back to business, "Unit number and picture ID for your guest please." The slightest bit of insecurity seeps in before I have the chance to push it away. I wonder if she is thinking about why Beau is with someone like me.
I brush the front of my shirt down, fidgeting,"Fifty-three hundred. Thank you." I motion for Brian to step forward.
She frowns down at the keyboard, "I'm sorry miss we don't have a unit fifty-three." She sounds bewildered. I think Beau and Brian's presence has overwhelmed her.
"It's fifty-three hundred." I repeat a little frustrated as her pattern of ignoring me has left me feeling foolish. “Would it be okay if we go up now and handle this a bit later,” I quickly make up an excuse to hopefully speak to someone a bit more professional, “I wanted to ask the manager about the gym and rec membership, can I speak with them?”
She nods a reply, and I quickly thank her, leading Beau and Brian to the elevators. I give a small sympathetic wave to the attractive woman, once Beau and Brian have walked ahead.
She mouths asorrywhile fanning herself and giving me a thumbs up. I don’t know how to respond to this, so I nod and stride to the elevator.
I hand the keys to Brian. The elevator stops close to the top floor and the doors open to a small lobby and large white double door. The same door greeted me when I first ran to New York. I find myself a bit emotional in seeing them again, particularly in the current context. A sense of loss adds to this feeling, knowing Rita won’t be behind it this time. I urge Brian to unlock the door, and he whistles when he steps inside the luxury apartment.
“This was Rita’s home. I couldn’t bare to sell it to anyone after her death. She left it to me when she passed.” I look around the fully furnished rooms that seem so empty and cold now. The floor to ceiling windows offer a beautiful view of the city. I remember staring out of them my first few weeks here, uncertain of how I got from my life in Alabama to here. I didn’t want to leave, I knew that without question. When I eventually moved out to live in my studio, things were still so wonderful, it was right before Rita was diagnosed with cancer. She wanted me to have something that was my own. I returned to live with her on and off throughout her diagnosis and treatment. I cared for her here and tried to return all the care she gave me, but I also witnessed her dying and eventually her death in this place.
Beau and Brian take in the large room without speaking. I’m curious about what they think of the place. Rita always liked the security of the twenty-four-hour doorman. I always thought it was way too big for just one or two people.
"There are three bedrooms each, with en suites. Take your pick, I've only stayed here a handful of times since Rita passed.” I rock on my feet, feeling anxious being here, “You'll need groceries and bathroom necessities, but other than that, you should be set.” I drop my purse on the entry table and walk toward the living room. I run my hand over the leather sofa as I remember lounging here with a book or watching movies with Rita. I look up to Brian, “They offer laundry and maid service. I never signed up for it, but you can if you'd like." My voice wobbles, I clear my throat and shrug my shoulders, "You want a tour?"
Both men are still quiet.
Finally, Brian speaks, “Are you sure you don’t mine me staying here Samantha? I can find another place no problem." He runs his hand over his bald head.
I turn and give him a gentle smile, “I’m positive. Rita would want you here. I just haven’t been here in a while. Brings back memories, that’s all.” Beau walks over and runs his hand over my back slowly.
I feel uncomfortable with all the emotions bubbling up. I want to cling to him.
Instead, I turn to Brain, “I think I'll go see if I can I find the manager. May I have your ID so they can make a copy?"
Beau must realize I need a few minutes to myself and says, "Brian, give her your licenses, and let's look around,."
After collecting it, I walk back out to the elevator. When I reach the front desk, the same woman from before is standing next to a slightly older woman in a black pant suit, both of their heads turn in my direction when the doors open.
I walk over to the desk and inquire, "Are you the manager?"
"No, I'm sorry—Ms. West, is it?” She rounds the desk and reaches out a hand, giving me a firm handshake. “He’s not in on Saturdays. I’m Gloria. I'd be happy to assist you and your guests in anyway." She looks over my shoulder, like Beau will materialize any moment. The younger women must have told her about him being here.
"Here is my guest’s license, he will be staying here for some time. He may add laundry or maid service, but I'm not sure yet. I would also like to leave a message for the manager to call me when he returns." I leave my work and cell numbers on a small white paper, and the older of the two woman promises he'll receive it promptly on Monday morning. I do it partially to keep up my ruse, but I also find myself wanting to talk about the lack of professionalism of these two employees. Beau can’t be the only person of note to walk into their lobby.
The elevators ding open just as I'm finishing up.
I hear both women gasp and the younger whispers, "See, it really is him." I know from her quick comment, who's behind me without looking. I flush, seeing her awed expression, and it makes me jealous that this pretty girl is so smitten with him. The older woman wastes no time rounding the desk, swaying over to Beau. He has barely stepped off the elevator when she moves right in front of him, blocking his way.
