After Cindy leaves, I go back into the room and sit on the bed just as the boys come back from the gym. Apparently they had taken showers because I smell the light and fragrant scent of hotel soap. We talk about our plans for the evening and they tell me that they are going out to see a friend who lives nearby before we all have dinner together.
"In the meantime, I'll get ready and see you guys here in about an hour." They nod, grabbing their wallets and a pack of gum. They ask me if I have mints and I cannot understand for the life of me why they would need both.
Alone again, I am haunted by Cindy and her friend. I think about calling room service for sparkling water or help with my luggage, but change my mind. I go back to my story and am forced to look at the double. Cindy did have a point about whether the double is real or imagined. But how far I am willing to run with the unconscious and the imagination I am not sure. I do, after all prefer things that are uncomplicated.
After filing my nails and flipping through the television channels, I decide that life is essentially pointless unless you have a clear framework through which to view seemingly random circumstances. I decide to take a bubble bath in the hotel tub and get dressed for dinner. Before I take the bath, I scrub the bottom of the bathtub with some cleaning supplies I have brought with me for this very purpose. I put on a beautiful shade of red lipstick and accent my cheeks with a bronzer I had purchased earlier. My thinking is that the bold lip color might make up for any lack of confidence on my part.
An hour later, I get a text from one of the boys telling me that they are waiting for me in the lobby for dinner. Where did the time go, I wonder. "Come down," reads the text. I stare at my phone and then leave the room, remembering to take the room key which looks like a small credit card. The text font on the phone looks awfully bold. I take the steps instead of the elevator because I am afraid of seeing Cindy and the bell boy.
As I enter the lobby, the chandelier is blinding and I am struck by the shadow it casts on the shiny marble floor. While looking for the boys, I come face to face with the tattoo I had seen upstairs. The bell boy's back is facing me, and I can see that he is struggling to walk with some expensive pieces of monogrammed luggage.
Like girlfriends giggling over tea, I have a nostalgic flashback to Cindy and I sitting in my room : me reading and her listening. It seems like days or years ago, although it was just a few hours. Time is a funny thing, I think. The bell boy is finally successful with the bags and makes his way to the elevator. As the doors to the elevator open, Cindy step out of the same elevator holding a small object I cannot make out. What is it and where was she?
I see the boys and wave hello to them as Cindy disappears down the hall, a little smile on her lips and a sparkle in her green speckled eyes.