Room 702 (45 page)

“I’m not sure about you, but having driven the past eight hours, I could use a shower.
 
Do you mind?”

“Not at all, I’ll just pull out my laptop.”
 
Maureen is a moderately successful blogger and has been updating her followers about their progress – tweeting and writing about each unique stop on the journey.
 
Thalia cannot understand what is interesting about their fifth gas stop or what they bought, but people in cyberspace seem to take interest in this trip.
 
In fact, Maureen’s monthly traffic to her blog was robust enough to work out into a free stay at the Winchester.
 

In the bathroom, Thalia enjoys a hot soak in the steaming water, enjoying the time to herself.
 
This is perhaps the longest bath she’s taken since her daughter was born.
 
Only when the water is lukewarm does the thirty-six year old step out.
 
Wrapping her wet hair in a turban, and into the soft robe, Thalia walks out and sits on the couch, watching her friend type busily away at the desk.

“What’s the consensus so far?” Thalia asks.

“They want us to use a Ouija board to try and contact Brendan.”

“Of course they do.”

“Should we?”

“Did you happen to bring one?
 
You’ve thought of practically everything so far – but I don’t remember seeing a board.”

“There is no problem with being prepared, and no, I didn’t happen to pack a Ouija board.
 
Furthermore, I’m not getting back in the car before I have to.”

“Hmmm…” Maureen picks up the handset on the desk and calls down to the concierge.
 
In her politest tone, she asks, “Yes, I have a rather strange request.
 
Is it possible you have a Ouija board in house?”

 
Thalia smiles, amused at her friend’s tenacity.

“No?
 
Would it be possible to find one in the area?
 
We’d be happy to have it charged to the room.
 
Really?
 
Thanks so much.” Maureen hangs up the phone and answers with a smile, “Should be within an hour.”

“Score one for the Winchester.
 
Shall I make us a drink?”
 
“Please do – oh!
 
I need to call back for ice!”

“I feel silly.”

“So do I.”

“Do we really want to do this?”

With a few glasses of white wine in her system, Maureen says, “The public demands it.”

“What if something bad happens?”

“Like what?”

“He died of a drug overdose.
 
It’s possible his spirit isn’t going to be a happy one.”

“Or nothing is going to happen and we’re just going to feel silly.”

Maureen and Thalia sit, legs crossed, on the floor, unaware they are very close to where Brendan actually passed away.
 
The board balances between them.
 
They managed to scare up some candles and even a few sticks of incense from housekeeping and have lit them in hopes of improving the ambiance.
 
They spent the afternoon researching various séance techniques and feel prepared to contact Brendan’s spirit.

“You’re sure about what we’re doing?”

“The hotel went to all the effort to get this for us, seems the least we could do is use it.”

“Fine, just remind me how this thing is supposed to work.”

“We place our fingers on the device and concentrate on a question or person.
 
We ask the spirit to answer questions for us.”

“Okay,” Thalia says skeptically.

“You have to believe, T.”

“I do!
 
I promise!
 
So, what should we ask first?”

“We need to know if Brendan is still in this room.”
 
Closing her eyes and lowering her voice, Maureen says aloud, “Is Brendan Sullivan with us tonight?”

Ever so slightly the Ouija device swings towards the ‘no’ response.
 
Both women take their hands off and look at each other.
 
Thalia asks, “Does that mean someone else is here?”

Maureen chews on her thumbnail and responds, “Maybe we should ask if we can speak to Brendan?
 
He could be busy in the afterlife.”

The women take a long moment to look at each other and Thalia says, “You’re right.
 
We didn’t come all this way not to find him.
 
Plus, your fans will want to know we tried everything.”

“Thanks.”

They place their hands back on the piece of plastic and Maureen asks clearly, “Can we please speak with Brendan Sullivan?”

Once again, the planchette moves slowly, but surely in the direction of ‘no.’

The ladies remove their hands, stumped by a piece of cardboard.
 
Maureen comments glumly, “I guess we never thought he wouldn’t want to talk to us.”

Thalia snaps her fingers and says, “What if we ask who we can talk to?”

“Or maybe we should ask how he died?”
“You think that an inanimate object can tell us what the coroner couldn’t fully determine?”

“Maybe we can figure out if what he did was intentional or not.”

“Let’s try.”

They put their hands back on the planchette and Maureen asks, “Did Brendan Sullivan commit suicide in this room?”

The device swings over to ‘no’ more quickly than with the previous two questions.
 
Thalia, in frustration, brings her hands off and says, “Maybe we got a defective Ouija board.
 
This one seems to be pessimistic.”

“All right, let’s give it one last try.
 
Maybe we can get it to spell something for us.”
 
Once again their fingers come to rest lightly on the plastic and Maureen pitches her voice low, “Great spirits of the beyond, we seek a great favor from your wisdom.
 
Although he cannot be reached on the other side, we seek to find how Brendan Sullivan met his ultimate demise.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?” Thalia murmurs in a low tone.

Maureen whispers back, “Shh!” then continues, “If you would be so kind to tell us, we feel his spirit can come to rest and would be very grateful for your guidance.”

They wait in silence, on edge to see if something happens and Maureen concludes, “How did Brendan die?”

There is a different energy in their fingers as the planchette spells out,
D-R-U-G O-V-E-R-D-O-S-E.

Maureen sounds out each letter as they reach the tiny magnified bubble pauses and then the device stops and goes back to the middle.
 
Voice wavering, Thalia asks, “Does that answer your question?”

Maureen releases a deep breath of air and says, “More or less.
 
I just wish I could come up with something that no one else would know.”

“Let me try.”
 
Clearing her voice, Thalia says, “Did Brendan Sullivan go peacefully?”

‘No.’

“What gives his spirit unease?” Maureen presses.

L-E-T-T-E-R.

“Now, what do you suppose that means?” Maureen asks.

“Maybe he’s left something behind?”

“But his lawyer had his will read.
 
It seemed pretty cut and dry.
 
He just had one ex-wife, no children.”

Maureen pauses and then asks, “Oh spirits, what information does this letter contain?”

A-P-O-L-O-G-Y.

 
This word causes both women to take notice.
 
Thalia asks, “Who does Brendan want to apologize to?”

K-E-N.

The women are momentarily stumped over the name.
 
Then Maureen snaps her fingers and says, “His first agent!”

“You’ve got to be right, but what would Brendan want to apologize for?”

 
“We could try calling Ken.”

“And what?
 
Tell him we’ve heard from Brendan from beyond the grave?
 
I’m sure that will go well.”
 
“All right, let’s put the paranormal aside for one moment.
 
Didn’t they have some huge falling out?”
 
“Yes – you’re right.”
 
“Maybe his lawyers forgot to deliver a letter?”
 
“Or maybe Ken never received it?”

Maureen places her hands back on the planchette and says, “Anything else we should ask?
 
You know, while we apparently have the interest of the spirits.”

Thalia’s eyes light up she answers, “Close your eyes and concentrate.
 
Where did Brendan pass away?”

H-E-R-E.

 
Both women leap up, letting the board and plastic device clatter on the tile floor.
 
They run into the bedroom and close the French doors behind them.
 
Thalia is the first to regain her voice and, breathing heavily, says, “I think we’ve done enough.”

“Agreed.
 
What should we do?”

“I don’t think we can call the front desk and ask about it.”

Maureen thinks a moment and replies, I think I remember seeing Kahlua in the mini fridge.
 
Maybe we’ll feel better after some liquid courage.”

Thalia walks over to the small refrigerator and pulls out the small bottles.
 
With the two small glasses clinking, they lay prop themselves up in the extra large bed.
 
Thalia closes her eyes and says, “I guess we got what we came for.”

“Sure did.”

“Will you put it all on your blog?”
 
“Not sure yet.
 
I have no idea who would believe us.
 
I’ll probably just write something vague and leave it to the readers’ imaginations.”
 
“Sounds like a good plan.”
 
“What will you tell Philip?”
 
“Oh, I’m keeping this one for us.
 
Maybe I’ll tell the girls one day.”

With the adrenaline slowing in their veins and the alcohol pushing them towards slumber, it is Maureen who says, “Rest well, Brendan, we hope you find peace.”

 
Still a bit shaken by the incident, Thalia wracks her brain for ways to calm down.
 
Finally, she says, “You know what we should do?”

 
“I don’t know about you, but I am way to amped to sleep.
 
I think I saw a collection of Brendan’s films available on the on demand films.”

 
Maureen waits a minute before turning to face her friend and asks, “Are you suggesting a Brendan Sullivan movie marathon?”

 
“That is exactly what I am suggesting!”

 
“That is a perfect idea.”

 
As Thalia grabs the remote control and begins flicking through the instructions, Maureen asks quietly, “We’re leaving that board behind, right?”

 
“Absolutely!”

“You’ve come a long way this year, Oscar.
 
I’m very proud of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.
 
Now, in your own words, what accomplishment stands out the most for you?”
 
“Kind of all of it, I guess.
 
I know I made some bad decisions, but overall, I feel really good about seeing you.
 
I kind of wish I hadn’t waited so long.”
 
“I’m very glad to hear that.”
 
“It wasn’t easy.”
 
“Did you think it was going to be?”
 
“Maybe a little.
 
Anyway, I was thinking the other day to when I met you here for the first time and how far I’ve come since then.”

A knock on the door gains their attention.
 
For the most part, over the past year they have had no interruptions – this space is sacred, set apart from the rest of the world.
 
A private sanctuary where they can be honest with each other.
 
Although the Winchester has honored their privacy, the hotel staff regularly gossips about what exactly goes on in the room, with a varied set of theories going around.
 
Oscar puts his hands up and says, “Let me get this.”

Looking at the peephole, he puts a hand over his mouth and whispers, “Oh no.”

“I know you’re in there – lying piece of shit!
 
Let me in,” a muffled female voice shouts from the other side of the door.

From behind the desk, Nancy stands up and asks, “Dani?”

“Yes.”

“Let me handle this.” Nancy calmly goes to the door and opens it.

Seeing Oscar inside the room, Dani immediately explodes, “What on God’s green earth are you doing with my husband?”

A verbal barrage of insults and expletives gets thrown around the vestibule between husband and wife, causing Nancy to place both fingers in her mouth and let loose an ear splitting whistle.
 
With their sudden undivided attention, the older woman points inside and says, “Both of you, now.”

With Dani still grumbling under her breath, Oscar slips into the leather chair and his wife, entire body tense, sits as far away as possible on the couch.
 
Nancy, remains standing and in a low quiet tone, says, “Dani, please let me first assure you – there is no sexual relationship between your husband and myself.
 
There never has been, nor will there ever be.”

Dani, disregarding Nancy’s comments looks directly at Oscar and says, “I found the bills.
 
You’ve been coming here for months, don’t deny it.”
 
“I won’t.”
 
“Why?
 
Have I not been enough for you?”

Nancy looks to her patient and asks, “Would you like to explain?”

Oscar moves to sit next to his wife.
 
He takes her much smaller hand in his and staring at her imploringly, says, “I’m not sure you will believe me, but please believe me when I say that Nancy is my therapist.
 
I’ve been coming to her for counseling.”