I’ve ordered a bottle of zin, why not. I open the drapes and walk onto the balcony. I look out at the fake lake and the fuckin’ swans. Then I hear the knock from room service and walk back into the room. Everything is so floral here, everything so clean and chilled. I want to mess things up, then call someone to make up my room. I love hotel rooms—the empty drawers, our lives condensed and unfettered. Sometimes I think hotel maids have the best perspective on human nature, all the gunk we leave behind. I want to talk about this with Billy—the lives of maids, the decor in hotel rooms. I don’t want to talk about the things that make my heart hurt. I open the door to Billy and a room service waiter who’s wheeling in my single bottle of wine. I’m taken aback for a moment at seeing these two men together, one scruffy, one polished as if by machine. Couldn’t you dress better? I want to ask one. Do you really need a cart? I want to ask the other.
What do You think about The Possibilities: A Novel?
