4: Memory

The guard led Zheira to the front desk. He kept stealing glances over his shoulder, wondering why she’s thickly wrapped. Once, his eyes narrowed at the bulk on her hood, but he diverted his gaze every time she noticed him.

They stopped at the neatly polished counter where a dunk lady who’s in her late twenties greeted them. She tucked some of her beetle-black hair to her ears. 

“A pleasant morning—err—ma’am?” She looked at Zheira from head to toe, but the guard bit his lips, his eyes bulging. She shrugged and tried to smile, forming instead a lopsided grin. “Uhm—I am Martha, your trusted front desk. I hope you’ve had a good journey.”

Gulping, Zheira blinked, feeling the cold sweat streaming from her back. She kept her eyes on the tiled ground, afraid they’d be eye to eye.

Two bellwomen stood beside the counter, bringing about three luggage bags, a smile on their faces. They were wearing a red, formal coat, with a black tie embossed with the hotel’s crest. 

“She’s a Martin, Martha. Mrs. Martin requested her to be in the best room,” said the guard. 

Celestine, one of the bellwomen who looked like Taylor Swift with a troll-like nose, shrieked, “The Martins?”

Martha, the guard, and the other bellwoman looked at her as she put down the luggage. She fumbled for a square something behind her back, and, finally, showed off a crumpled thick magazine that featured Robert and Melinda Martins on the front cover. At the top of the couple’s head was the word: Business Review and its lower region flashed the caption “The Pillars of Mining Business.”

The guard nodded. “Well, that’s that. Just do your best to make her feel at home.” He gave Zheira one more scrutiny, noting how much she fidgeted, her eyes intent on her fingers. “She seemed to be shy.” Without another word, he went back to his post. 

Celestine was whispering animatedly beside her co-worker who seemed uninterested in hearing her voice. Martha, meanwhile, was bothered with her thick jacket but did not say a thing about it. 

“It must have been tiresome for you, Miss Martin. I’ve heard you come all the way from North Hills—” 

“Can—can I go to my room—I mean, it’s not bad here, but the—I mean, I w-want to be in my room,” said Zheira who now tasted her blood by biting her lips too hard. 

An awkward smile curved Martha’s lips. “Of course, Miss Martin. Celestine,” she called, owing for Celestine’s momentary silence, her oceanic eyes now blinking at Martha. “Please bring our V.I.P. Guest to her room.”

A muffled noise from the door caught Zheira’s attention. A woman and a girl were making their way to the front desk. There was a big smile plastered on their faces. Perhaps, so big that it made them a little brighter. Zheira’s heart sank. How she wished to curve her lips like that, to laugh, to converse with a bright face! But after wishing to a countless wishing star, she gave up the hope that the day would come when she’d be smiling from ear to ear. 

“Look, Mom! There’s a mummy!” the girl squeaked. Her eyes were twinkling as she stared at Zheira, pointing her excitedly. 

The woman’s eyes landed on Zheira who moved back. She gave her an apologetic smile before reprimanding her daughter who lowered her hand with a sad smile. 

Technically speaking, the girl was right for calling her a mummy. Her only difference with those creatures was the fact that she’s wrapped by her jacket and not with a white cloth. Oddly enough, she wasn’t hurt. The look of excitement in the girl’s eyes made her feel a little special.

Smiling a little, she gave the Hotel’s Receiving Area one sweeping look. It was smaller than her room. It was more appealing, though. Zheira didn’t know if such a conclusion was only because her eyes have been so used to her room. But anyway, it’s not big of a deal. What mattered most now was that she must be enclosed in the four walls of a room or else, she’d shrank in her feet with the eyes that, even though not looking at her directly, seemed to radiate in her direction.

She was about to turn when the two benches in the corner caught her attention, one of which was occupied by two blondes who seemed to be in a deep conversation. However far their distance might be, it didn’t matter to Zheira, especially because she could hear them clearly as though they’re whispering in her ears.

“… I’m really telling the truth!” said the one with a younger feature. “Belen’s my neighbor for years, so I know she’ll never commit suicide. I don’t know what the news is playing at, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re bending information.”

“That’s a big accusations, Sis. You does have a point, though. One of my friends have also been reported dead, and they say it’s suicide. But she’s always been well as I see it.” The one with a wrinkly forehead put her hands on her temple, her eyes closed. “What do you think about it?”

“Well, it’s odd, that is. Suicide in the same neighborhood. That’s really not a good sign. Come to think of it, there’s been two reported suicide as well, though it’s in the next street from here. Still, that’s bothering. Suicide’s never been rampant here in New York. Mind you, not in a reasonless way.”

The older one opened her eyes. “Do you think they’re covering something up?”

Her companion bit her lips, looking grave. “I don’t know about that, but you may just have hit a jackpot.”

They’ve been quiet afterward. Zheira kept her silence as well, her brows furrowing. Her curiosity’s taking over, and it’s making her nuts. Though she didn’t get what they’re talking about, they did emit such a dominant fear that she could feel it even from where she stood. Shaking her head, she turned to the front desk and was surprised to see Celestine standing beside her.

“Let’s go, Ma’am?” Celestine pointed at the ancient-looking stairs. It was made out of wood and has been painted in deep orange. The staircases were covered with oceanic blue floor mats that looked to Zheira as a red carpet. 

She couldn’t help feeling she’s a celebrity in every step she took. She’d seen a lot of actresses walked with poise on it, wearing a gown made by their designer, and she dreamed to be like one.

“CasaBlanca is a hotel inspired by the romance of the movie ‘CasaBlanca’. You can assume this hotel as a ‘home away from home’, which means that even if you are away from your house, you can consider this place as your own. This is also a way of escape to the hustle and bustle of the busy street of Time Square.” It was clear she memorized those lines by heart, as she sounded monotonous. She seemed to be a different person from earlier. 

Zheira’s eyes wandered to the intricate flower patterns on the walls beside the stairs. It was the first time she’d seen such designs. She’d love to see it carved on their walls in Angleton. 

At last, they stepped out of the last staircase. They were greeted by the statue of a four-legged mammal. Zheira didn’t know what animal it was, but she could see its similarities to a tiger. Yet, its markings were different. It has red stripes in its body, creating a pattern of black and red to its skin.

“Do you want to take a picture?” Celestine put her hands together, smiling yet again.

Zheira moved back. “How? H-How can you s-smile like that?” She barely moved her lips, but the sound waves she released were enough for Celestine to hear.

Moving her hands—as though explaining to a child that one plus one equals two—she said, “It’s not that hard, actually. You just move the bones in your jaws and stretch it to its maximum. Besides, it’s the only thing I can treasure. I mean, it’s free, and I, who have no wealth at all, can afford it. Plus, smiling cures anything, you know. Why do you ask?” 

Just as Zheira looked up, Celestine stared at her directly. Their eyes locked for a moment until Zheira felt a heavyweight pulling her heart down. She put her hands on her chest, clenching her fist, and trying to steady her breathing. Then he heard it, the sobs of Celestine. She looked up and saw white walls surrounding a hospital bed that’s nursing a frail old who’s only breathing through life support. A nurse and a doctor were standing near her sick body, explaining to a mortified Celestine that they need to administer euthanasia to stop her suffering.

“I’ll do anything, Doc! If it’s money, I can get it for you!”

No matter how the doctor explained that her mother’s no longer capable of living, Celestine refused to believe his claim, thinking that he’s only like that because she’s not financially adept. 

Tears started trickling from Zheira’s eyes. She didn’t know that losing someone would feel like this. She’d never truly wallow in such emotions, especially because she never did have someone to lose unless the people she never met weren’t counted. 

Zheira shook her head, looked down, and wiped her tears. “Just—” She swallowed hard, jealous of how simple emotions were for Celestine, wondering when she’d be like that. “—just bring me to my room.”

“As y-you wish!” Celestine said automatically, confused as to why her head’s throbbing so hard. All she could remember was looking at Zheira, but she never did notice the pattern moving in her cornea. 

After five minutes of awkward silence, Celestine stopped in front of an oak door. She opened it and pointed inside. “This will be your room, Ma’am Martin. If you need anything, just press the red button beside the switch and someone will come for you.”

Zheira said thank you before going inside. There was two king-size bed in the corner, which wasn’t far from each other, and facing it was a fifteen inches flat-screen T.V. on the wall, which was painted in orange and yellow that made it so bright she’s blinded. 

“Uhm, Ms. Martin,” Celestine called. “Mind if I ask you something?” There was a frown on her face that made Zheira uncomfortable, but she let her asked it away. 

“It’s—uhm—kinda weird for you to be that well-wrapped.” Chuckling, she continued, “It’s not as if you’ll be raped. I mean, you’ve got the looks, but come on, you’re in the city!” This time around, she couldn’t stifle her laughter. She banged her knees as she roared but stopped the moment she realized Zheira wasn’t laughing with her. 

Apparently, Celestine was under the impression that she just renounced the wittiest joke in the whole world; however, Zheira thought otherwise. She just stood there, clouded with panic. The last thing she desired was for people to surround her, trying to know what’s behind the cloth she’s wearing. Not now that her parents were nowhere near her.

Noting that Zheira didn’t catch the joke, Celestine brushed her nape and shook her hands. “Don’t mind that, Ma’am. I was just a bit curious, but you’re not obligated to say something.” Without a second thought, she shut the door and ran back to her post. She felt weird while walking with that young Martin. 

It’s like there’s something sinister going on inside Zheira’s body, and it’s making her hair stood at its end.

It took a full minute or so for Zheira to recover. She jumped to the soft bed, blinking at the flat surface of the ceiling. The silence comforted her. It’s like a melody from which she couldn’t help longing to hear. She thought she could sleep with it, but she was mistaken. Her mint-scented breath bothered her so much. 

When she realized she could no longer sleep, she stood and face the mirror beside a glass window. It was square and its frame was made out of thick wood. It’s the first time she’d seen one ever since she’s grown horns. Gulping, she scanned her body. If she didn’t know herself, she should’ve been taken aback by the way she looks. Her body was covered by a thick jacket and tight jeans while her face was concealed by her face mask and sunglasses.

Before anything else, she made sure the door was locked. Slowly, she removed her jacket. Beneath it was a black fitted T-shirt. She stroked the strands of her golden hair before sitting down on the carpeted ground. Her legs were crossed as she stared at her pale white skin. It looked so soft and flawless.

With a deep breath, she put the sunglasses and the face mask on her lap. Then she cupped her cheeks and stared at her face. Her pointed nose was pretty attractive as it complimented her rosy cheeks and her heart-shaped lips. Her eyes watered as it bored on the two small, sharp, red horns at the top of her head. 

The fact that her parents once told her that she could be an actress or else a beauty queen weighed her down. They couldn’t be right. Who would support an actress who looked like a monster? No one even wanted to be with her, let alone cheer at her back. 

Tears streamed from her checks. How long would she have to endure this kind of pain? How long would she endure the fact that she’d have to be alone all her life? Because if that’s to be the case, shouldn’t it be more sensible to go where death lies?

Staring at her eyes, she cursed it, making sure that its blinding colors would be offended at the way she treated it. If only it could talk, they would’ve had a row already. However, she’d been distracted when a flicker reflected in the surface of the mirror. It’s as if there’s a swish inside her eyes. She moved closer and closer until she was nose to nose with her reflection.

There, from the red slit in the center of her blue irises, was a figure of a man who’s wearing a gray cloak. Behind him was the bright full moon, shadowing his face, but she could make out golden orbs the shape of a dancing flame. His pale lips curved into a smile, revealing white, sharp teeth. 

Folding the long sleeves of his cloak, he cut his skin with his bare nails. The moment his blood gushed out of the slit, the time moved slowly; an eerie shriek reverberated in the air around them until the blood dripped to a baby’s pale mouth. 

It was almost painful for her to stop herself from watching that good-for-nothing memory. It’s as if she just dived in the deepest lake as she pulled herself away from the mirror. Before she could even balance herself, cracks started dancing their way to the mirror’s surface. It started from where her nose touched, linking all the way to its peak. There was a glitch-like sound, followed by a low rumble, and its fragments flew in the air, blown by an invisible force. 

Even the mirror couldn’t take the impact of her gift. It wasn’t strong enough to take in what she just did. Just like a human, it also experienced the side effects of her memory-reading, though in its case, since it has no cerebrum, it shattered into million bits. 

As its sharp piece pierced through Zheira’s cheeks, her horrified shrieks embarrassed the brightness of the room.