WILLOW & MILL

7:15 PM, 11TH APRIL

Joan Telson readied herself for yet another long and tedious night of careful paperwork. It had been two months weeks since her purchase of the Penguin Motel in New England and subsequent move to the East Coast. For the past two weeks, she had spent most of her days and nights locked in the motel planning for the reopening in five months under the new sophisticated rebrand of ‘The Golden Lotus Hotel’, and Telson knew she had her work cut out for her.

Telson liked the large reception area, the soaring ceiling being the sole reason she saw the potential for the elegant new refurbishment that better suited her taste and style. In an attempt to avoid the cramped office behind the reception desk, she had gotten into the habit of working at the large round dining table in the wide-open foyer. Positioned with her back against the wall, Telson continued to peck away at her laptop, the hefty table littered with a sprawl of paperwork, and her bottles of vodka and OJ at the ready for refills of her big pink mug. The odd creak of the hotel's foundations and sigh of the wind, still made her feel uneasy. The dark silence of the enormous hotel would generate absurd dangers in her imagination. Even the town she now called home gave her frequent pauses for thought.

Mill Willow, the name sounded as pretty as it was haunting. The worst was when she eventually had to go to bed, or God forbid the bathroom. She’d stopped carrying a knife with her around the eerily quiet hotel, as the sight of the sharp blade only scared her more. She attempted to play music to calm her nerves, but even upbeat disco and wholesome country music served only to frighten her more as the hall distorted the melodies with the reverberant acoustics of the empty foyer. Joan Telson continued to diligently work away the late hours in silence, trying her best not to leave her chair until she was, either, too busting or too exhausted to be scared.

Suddenly a rhythmic rap came from the front door.

TAP…tap-tap-TAP-tap…

“Shampoo.” Telson instinctively called back under her breath, a habit she’d inherited from her two-bit father.

The middle-aged woman raised her weary frame from the desk, her knees popping under the weight of her rigid body as she stood up for the first time in hours. As she made her way to the front door, Telson couldn’t help but smile that she finally had company. Anything to distract me from the monotony. That was until she saw who was at the door.

A rough-looking young man with a shaved head and broad shoulders was looking back at her through the glass. His demeanor was soft, though, almost pathetic. His shoulders were hunched submissively forward, and a single tooth hung lopsided over his bottom lip.

“Got a room?”

Telson couldn’t help but naturally calculate the distance between the large bowing knife in the kitchen and her cell phone at her desk. She shook the dreaded paranoia from her mind. “We’re not open.”

“I know. My dad kicked me out. I have nowhere to go and was hoping I could crash here until school tomorrow.”

As Telson struggled to find her response, The tension seemed to grow thicker by the second

“I have money.” He raised a pitiable jar of crumpled bills and copper coins as collateral.

It was at that moment that Telson’s sense of danger began to mellow. The tension in her shoulder eased. Surely, any thug looking for trouble wouldn’t bring his coin collection along. The young man’s predicament reminded Telson of when she had to live in a sleazy motel when she was an adolescent.

When she was only thirteen years old, a fire burned through twenty-two apartment flats, and the entire resident families in the building were driven out and placed in emergency accommodations around the tri-state area. Joan Telson’s teenage friend, Susie Dunlop, who lived down the hall from her in the complex, was sent to Tremonton, a quaint town along the Malad River in northern Utah, and only a stone’s throw from the crystal blue waters of the Bear River Bay. Joan was sent to Wendover off I-80, essentially a strip mall in the desert just east of the Nevada state line. Famous for its string of cheap casinos and a half-dilapidated airport, the population was just barely over a thousand. But that didn’t stop the young adolescent Joan from experiencing some cornerstone moments for her flowering adulthood. Moments that still seemed to haunt her thirty years later and over two thousand miles away.

Seeing him shiver from the cold, Telson unlocked the door and let the young man lumber into the foyer. “Trouble with the old man?”

“Yeah.” Rufus Allec lied as he surveyed the empty foyer of the quiet hotel, his body wrapped with guilt and distaste for what he planned to do there.

“Look, I wasn’t lying when I said we weren’t open for business.”

Allec flinched momentarily at her warning words. “We? Will your husband mind?”

Telson laughed. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Sorry, business partner,” Allec interjects, prying her for clues as casually as possible.

“Nope.” Telson clicked her tongue. “Just little old me.”

Telson instantly regretted her own words. Suddenly an awkward silence fell over the room like a thick blanket.

“I’m Allec.” He introduced. “Rufus Allec.”

“Joan Telson.” She took his hand. “Glad to help out.”

“I hope this isn’t too much of a bother. Like I said, it’s just for tonight. Could I get one on the ground floor?”

“Sure.” Telson narrowed her lids.

“I’m afraid of heights.” He blushes at his weak lie.

“But it can only be for tonight. I don’t want you out in the cold.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You want me to call the sheriff?”

“No!” Allec exclaimed, collecting himself quickly. “He can’t know.”

“Okay.” Telson ambled to the reception area for the room key hanging over the grid of golden hooks and cubby holes.

Allec followed; the shame for his sexual desires weighed on him. He felt dirty. The weight of guilt sent cold shivers up his spine. The thought of the town castrating and banishing him shook his nerves. What if she told him what I did? No one can find out. I should get out of here while I still can.

Telson met Allec in front of the counter with the key and led the way to his room.

Uncontrollable waves of small jitters and larger convulsions as he approached the room. His stomach felt hollow. He was fully erect as he gained closer to the forbidden fruit—the shameful sex.

“You want me to fix something up for you?”

“No, I’m tired. I better head to bed.”

“Fair enough. What time you want waking up tomorrow?”

“Eight? I guess.”

Telson stopped at the first door by the base of the stairs, in clear view of her round table in the foyer. She opened the door for Allec to walk through. As he entered the room, she flicked on the lights and pointed, almost aimlessly, at the TV, thermostat, radio, and telephone with the bellboy’s usual half-hearted tour of the room’s basic amenities.

“Well, if you need anything, just Holler.”

“Oh,” Allec called back before she could close the door. “Do you mind if I watch a little TV? The noise helps me sleep.”

Telson smiled sweetly, seeing the innocence of the adolescent for the first. “Sure, sweetheart, anything you want.”

She closed the door and made her way back to the big round table. The dreaded paperwork awaited her still. But a new sense of relief washed over the tired woman. The new company she now had in the other room put her nerves at ease. It felt good. It was a preview of the months ahead when the hotel would be filled with good company from all walks of life.

After a much-needed visit to the bathroom and a few minutes of settling back into her work at the computer, Telson heard the odd sounds of jostling and fidgeting in the room at the base of the stairs. Assuming the young man was probably getting undressed for bed, she kept her head down and carried on with her work. Then the sound of laughter followed by a cautionary ‘shush.’ Followed. Thinking this could be the TV set, still blasting away, Telson didn’t leave her seat. However, she sat back and watched the door of room 1A, waiting for another sound that was out of place.

Another snigger. Then a rolling sound and thump.

Telson knew the sound instantly; the window was being opened. That son of a bitch is trying to rob me.

She swiftly sat up, moving not to the kitchen for her much thought about bowing knife but to the reception counter for something much more stringent.

The door to A1 unlocked and burst open under Telson's shoulder; the shotgun trained straight on Allec and then to the new kid of the same age and height. Telson’s shotgun erratically oscillated between both young men’s panicked faces. She did this while looking around the room for items they might have already taken. To her surprise, everything was in the same place she had left it. Everything but Allec’s clothes. Both young men stood in the middle of the room, naked and covering their bare crotches.

“Who the hell are you?” Telson asked. “What the hell is going on?”

Both young men were frozen with fear, the explanations trapped on the edges of their tongues, like the plunge would be suicide.

“Well?” Telson went on. “I can see you ain’t thieving. You ain’t shooting up in my hotel, are you?”

“We just needed a place to crash.” The second, thinner man blurted out.

“And who might you be?”

“Jasper Balt, Ma’am.” He introduced himself shakily. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

And with Jasper's last request, Telson softened again. The boy's concern for news to get out of his little love affair elicited nothing but pity in the woman. Despite this new empathy, she still kept her tone cold and foreboding.

“So, you think it’s okay to sneak in here and treat my place like it’s some kind of truck stop restroom?”

“No, ma’am. We can pay.” Jasper offered.

“I did offer.” Allec chimed in. “We can pay. Take the whole jar.”

The whole sordid affair was quickly moving beneath her. Telson lowered the shotgun to her hip. The two boys finally let the ballooned air from their chests. She scrutinized the two young men a moment longer, thinking back to her youth in the Delmont Spring Hotel in Utah’s western desert. Growing up, she’d never had a safe haven, and ‘The Golden Locust Hotel’ was going to be just that. An oasis for all who needed it.

“You can stay,” Telson finally offered. “But no more funny business.”

Allec seemed tongue-tied and meekly held the jar of money up for her.

“Keep your money. I don’t want it. But when you’re done in the morning, take the sheets off that bed and leave them in the laundry.” She pointed down the hall with her thumb. “The vacuum is in the cupboard under the stairs, and when you’re done leaving this place how you found it, you can drop the key on the reception desk, Understand?”

Both men eagerly and silently nodded their understanding.

With that said, Telson walked out and closed the door. Sitting back at the round table of paperwork. But Telson didn’t do any more work that night. Instead, she sat back reflectively sipping from her big pink mug, thinking of her past and how it might make for a better future. Thinking back to her compassion for Allec and Jasper, Telson couldn’t shake the image of the two frightened young men, shivering naked and only wanting a place for the night. Somewhere safe from the cold weather and prying eyes. Like two wild dogs seeking shelter in her warm cave. This train of thought would ultimately lead Joan Telson to a new name for her business. It would not open under the name of ‘The Golden Lotus Hotel’ but forever enshrined as ‘The Rock Hollow Hotel.’