“Oh, you’re back. I thought I’d have a bit more time to pick up. Poor Roddy’s so overburdened with all the New Year’s Eve guests. And I tell you, you’re not helping him much with you’re not leaving today like you said you would.”
I lift a brow at her. If she thinks she’s been inconvenienced, she should see how I feel after spending several crucial days on what was supposed to be a simple 24 hour trip with a turnaround.
It strikes me as entirely unprofessional that she’d act so put out by the unexpected extension of our stay. Also, why was she cleaning our room while Kristal was obviously in the shower? In my experience, most cleaners only came into a room when it was occupant-free. But I have a feeling neither Rodge nor his mother knew or cared much about the concept of good customer service. It was yet another reason I was dying to leave this inn behind.
The noise of the shower abruptly switches off, and Kristal’s “Monday, Monday” gets louder as she comes closer to the bathroom door.
“And the black elf’s out the shower, too. Well then, I’ll just get out your hair so you and her can get back to all that sex you’ve been having. Though you’d think the two of you be tuckered out by now.”
Yes, apparently being incredibly rude and impolite runs in this family.
I’ve had just about enough of this, and I’m about to tell her to get out. But then Kristal opens the door and exits the lavatory wearing nothing but a towel. Which barely does anything to cover her lush curves.
In an instant, my decision not to have sex with her before we leave is reversed.
But I am more than ready to be done with the complaints of Rodge’s overstepping relative. I open the room’s front door and let her know, “There’s no need to come back. We’re checking out for certain tomorrow.”
The woman stops mid-step, freezes, then frowns up at me. And she’s now close enough for me to notice the one element I didn’t before. She’s cold. So freezing cold, it feels like I’m standing next to a block of ice.
Only one kind of being gives off that kind of cold.
Ghosts. The housekeeper, she isn’t Rodge’s sister. She’s a ghost. Most likely Rodge’s mom.
I silently curse. I’ve done it again. I’ve slipped.
“You can see me?” the ghost asks.
At the same time, Kristal asks, “Who are you talking to?”
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
What will Hayato do now that
he’s mistakenly revealed his secret?
Find out in the next episode of
TWELVE MONTHS OF KRISTAL.
GOOD VIBRATIONS
Episode 7
29
Good Vibrations
HAYATO
Both Kristal and the ghost stare at me. Waiting for an answer. My father’s gone. He’s been dead for years after the family member of one of his many victims beheaded him.
Yet the old panic rears like the cold waves on the inn’s beach. Terrible and threatening to consume me.
Somehow in the midst of all of that, I manage to choke out, “Sorry, Kristal-san, I misspoke. I meant to say, we should do an extra sweep of the room since we’re checking out tomorrow.”
“Why are you holding open the door?” both Krystal and the ghost ask at the same time.
I look at Kristal and only at Kristal and pretend I don’t feel the icy cold field surrounding the ghost. “It is stuffy in here. Don’t you think it’s stuffy in here?”
“That’s my fault, actually,” Kristal tightens the towel with an apologetic look. “The room was freezing when I came upstairs, so I cranked up the heat. But I just couldn’t shake the chill—that’s why I decided to take a hot shower.”
Ghosts….
Most people don’t see them, but everyone can feel them. Especially indoors. They’re that freezing cold feeling you sometimes get, that chill you can’t shake even though you’re wearing warm clothes.
I know precisely why the room was so cold when Kristal came in, but I resist the urge to look directly at the ghost again as I answer, “It is fine. I’ll open a window instead.”
Before she can reply, I close the door and go to the window. It’s been a while since I allowed myself to get trapped somewhere with windows that didn’t have a remote control. Situations like this are why I refuse to stay in anything but the most modern hotels. But I figure out the latch quickly enough. And I keep my face perfectly neutral as I lift the window a few inches, letting in a cool breeze from outside.
I can feel the ghost’s eyes on me, suspicious and keen.
“You saw me. You looked right at me!” she says, still standing at the door.
In answer to her accusation, I pick up one of Kristal’s People magazines and take a seat on the bed.
After a careful moment of consideration, Kristal decides to join me.
She grabs a magazine too and sits down beside me. We both quietly flip through stories about American celebrities and regular people who’ve done extraordinary things.
The ghost stays for a while. At one point, she even comes over to the bed and waves a hand directly in front of my eyes.
Repressing the urge to shiver against what feels like a blast of cold air in my face, I flip the page—pretending as I learned to do after my summer in a sanitorium that I don’t see dead people. I once again act the part of being exactly like everyone else.
Eventually, the ghost gives up, fading out of the room without any more protest.
As soon as she does, I set the magazine down and go over to the desk. I’ve been forced to store my whiskey here since there is not even a mini-fridge in this tachinowarui inn.
Kristal sets her magazine down, too.
I lift the bottle. “Would you like one?” I ask, even though she always says no to my offers of whiskey.
But this time, she surprises me by answering, “Yes, I definitely want a drink.”
I pour one out for both of us and come back to the bed to hand it to her. Kristal has been shy with me from day one, but tonight her eyes skitter more than usual.
She takes a small careful sip. Winces. Then takes another one. And I feel terrible for not having something sweeter to offer her.
The air between us is nothing but awkward as we both drink my Japanese whiskey. I let the silence go on, wondering if this isn’t a good thing.
Feeling uncomfortable with each other might be enough to distract me from the fact that she’s still wearing nothing but a towel. Maybe tonight will be the night I figure out how to end this madness with her. Perhaps I’ll wake up the Nakamura Hayato I used to be tomorrow, a man who has finally come to his senses…
“So are they gone then?” she asks, interrupting my hopeful thoughts.
“Is who gone?” I reply, confused by her sudden question after such a long silence.
“Whoever you were talking to when you came out of the bathroom.”
I freeze. Then after several moments, I say, “I wasn’t talking to anyone. As I told you.”
She sighs and sets her tumbler down. “Okay, let’s start slow. When you came to the warehouse, how many people were at that party?”