One - All for Love

4203 Words
John Daryl Wendell seemed like the perfect man. Smart, down-to-earth, funny, and to top it all of, his looks and body were top-notch that just made Aly want to cry. So, it was not that uncommon for him to have a girl or two crushing on him every once in a while. For Aly Craig, however, “crush" was an understatement. Ever since she first laid eyes on him during college freshman year orientation—while he was graciously helping out a professor that had slipped—she knew that he was the one. To her luck, they had at least one class together almost every semester. Aly used this as an inspiration to study hard in all of their shared classes, and it worked out well for her, because he asked her to help him out with a project once. That may not sound like much to the average person, but for Aly, “helping out with a project" meant close, one-on-one time with the man she loved. And oh, those times when John would call out her name—even though there were a few occasions he mistakenly called her Anne or Riley—those were just precious! Even after college, that one year break, and now that she was getting her Master’s Degree, her love for John never wavered. In fact, it only grew as the universe crossed their paths together again when the now-hotshot accountant John coincidentally started working at the building in front of their campus. Aly excitedly smiled at the thought of running into him as she sketched on her notebook. His face had been ingrained in her brain—probably from the number of times she checked his social media profile in a day—that she could draw him on any surface with any medium. She checked her watch. It was ten minutes past 5, which meant he was about to leave the building and pass by the coffee shop at any second! Not that Aly was stalking him, no, of course not. She just happened to remember the exact windows of time when he would go in and out of the building in a normal day, which made it easier for her to see him whenever her breaks coincided with his. The coffee shop’s door opened, making the bell attached on top of it chime. In came Brenda, who made her presence known to all of the customers when she dramatically gasped at the sight of Aly, and teasingly yelled a few feet away, “I knew I’d see you here!” On instinct, Aly shut her notebook close and smiled embarrassingly up at her friend from college, who was causing some form of ruckus once again. Brenda was one of those seemingly timid girls during freshman year that suddenly became a loud, fashionable woman by the time they graduated. She was the only one who knew of Aly's unrequited love for John, but most importantly, she worked in the same building on the same floor as him, which made her Aly's main source of any work-related John news. “I was waiting for you, duh.” Aly lied, which Brenda saw through right away. “Aly bear,” she said, putting her handbag on the side of the table and sitting across Aly. “We both know why you’re here, and it’s not for me nor for the coffee—which still tastes horrible. You'd think they’d have learned how to make edible coffee when they’ve been open for three years,” she said with a snicker. That statement earned Brenda a glare from the barista, but she only smiled back at him without a care. “Oh my god, lower your voice!” Aly hissed, making Brenda laugh. “Okay, you’re right. Why did I even bother to try to lie to you. I’m waiting for Josh to pass by. I haven’t been able to see him the entire week because I’ve been so busy with work.” “Oh,” Brenda thoughtfully said. “Yeah, don’t bother. I just heard from the janitor Paul that he's been on leave for 2 days now. Something about going back to his hometown to take care of his sick mother? He filed a leave for an indefinite amount of time, can you believe it? To think that he also just got promoted! Even one of our night security guards left. Have I told you about it? Larry, he didn’t clock in the other—" Once Brenda started rolling, it was difficult to get her back on the track. Aly couldn’t care less about the other story then and there. She wanted to know the details about John. “He left? And no one knows when he’ll be back?” Aly tried not to look too taken aback. “But—but I just worked up the courage to finally talk to him!” In fact, Aly had been saying that for years, but she never did. She always ended up walking towards him, suddenly stopping, then awkwardly turning and walking away in a hurry before he even noticed her. Brenda looked sorry to be the deliverer of bad news. “I know, but that’s what I heard, honey. Maybe you should just go follow him.” She had intended for it to be a joke, but as she saw the wheels turning in Aly's head, she immediately raised her eyebrows and said in a serious tone, “Aly, no.” “But—” “Oh wow, no! Are you out of your mind?” Brenda hissed. Aly might as well have been as she desperately said, “But I know his hometown. He casually mentioned it once when I was helping him with a project.” “No, no, no, are you serious right now?” Brenda asked, incredulous, but Aly was dead serious. She did not have a plan, but she was not joking around, and when Brenda sensed that, she grabbed her friend by the shoulders and tried to shake some sense into her. “That’s called stalking! Just wait for him to come back. I’ll let you know as soon as he returns, okay? I mean, how long can he even afford to be on leave? Barrington is a large company so his boss could easily fire and replace him. I’m sure he'll be back soon. Okay?” Aly was reluctant to answer, so Brenda repeated, her voice full of concern, “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But Aly did something stupid. “This is the right call. Yup, I made the right decision,” she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the worn, smelly taxi after a cramped 3-hour flight, and a 2-hour drive with a driver that smoked halfway throughout the journey. Aly had initially believed that Brenda convinced her not to go, but when evening came that day, she received an email from a certain airline about a promo—it wasn’t a flight going anywhere near where John was, but Aly took it as a bright neon sign that she should go. The driver took out her rolling luggage and duffle bag from the trunk and put them beside her. “Miss, are you sure this is where you’re going?” He asked as he puffed out a cloud of smoke like a chimney. In front of Aly was an ominous-looking stone arch that signified where the old town started. Cracked roads, barely-maintained old houses, flickering lamp posts, and tall, gloomy trees cemented the whole horror film look that made Aly second-guess her impulsive decision. There were barely anyone in the streets at 6 in the evening—quite unlike the city where students and workers crowded every corner at any time of the day. When she looked behind her, there were miles of road that stretched into the blackness of the night. There was no turning back. “Yup,” Aly weakly replied as she handed a couple of bills to the driver. He bid her good luck as he happily returned to his car and drove away before she could even ask where the hotel was. “I should’ve made him drop me off at the hotel,” she thought a little too late. Aly checked her phone—and thank goodness there was a signal. She had searched for lodging while she was at the airport, and it said that there was one working hotel somewhere in the middle of town. Much to her disappointment, there were no online check-ins nor airport pick-ups as it didn't have a website and no one answered the phone. One of her worries was that the hotel would have no vacancies, but with all she’d seen so far, the town seemed like a place where there wouldn’t be much tourists—in fact, Aly’s worries had changed into thinking that the town was empty. The way to the hotel was horrible. The wheels of her overly packed bag kept getting caught in the stones or uneven concrete. She even tripped on a random vine on the sidewalk, and aside from the lights inside the houses—which at least signified that there were actual people—the lamps didn’t do much of a job lighting her way. As she walked, she passed by mostly houses, a small clinic, a closed grocery store—what kind of store closes so early?—and what looked like an old cemetery, which she steered away from. The wind was brutal. Aly had dressed herself in a silky sleeveless blouse, fitted jeans, and wedge sandals—an outfit she immediately regretted when the cold breeze touched her skin as if she weren’t wearing anything. Shivering and tired, the skies matched her mood. The dark clouds hovered above and covered the moon, while small black creatures that she could only assume were bats flew above. Aly could not believe this town housed little John Daryl Wendell once upon a time. Finally, she arrived at a building with the lit-up sign “Tourelle Hotel" above it. Ironically, there were no tourelles in its architecture. Aly checked her phone again. She was in the right place, but the building looked much more of a run-down 2-storey motel than a fancy-sounding hotel. “Dear God,” Aly breathed as it dawned on her that she would have to stay there for quite some time. With much effort, she managed to get her bags up the stairs and through the double doors. The lobby looked like what one would expect when they saw the state of the outer building. There was one old couch, a vase with flowers in the center of a glass coffee table, a large chandelier hanging by the ceiling, a grandfather clock beside the brick fireplace, and dark blue curtains that simply didn’t fit the red and gold motif of the interiors. The place smelled of burning wood, and for some reason, freshly-baked pastries. Aly approached the empty front desk and rang the old-fashioned bell thrice until someone finally entered from the door beside it. It was a tall man in his 50's, wearing a shirt and ripped jeans, angrily yelling, “I told you, Frank, I didn’t get your goddamn chicken feed—" He stopped short and frowned when he saw Aly smiling awkwardly at him. “You’re not Frank,” he said accusingly. Aly gave her kindest smile. “Um, no, sir, I am not.” The man leaned on the desk and looked Aly from head to toe to her luggage. “Who are you, then? You don’t look from around here.” “I’m not, I’m just visiting. I’d like a room, please?” The man narrowed his eyes at her but retrieved a set of keys from behind him. “A traveler, huh? We don’t get much around here. What’s a city girl doing in this town?” “Just… exploring.” Aly lied with a shrug. There was no way she'd say she traveled more than 5 hours just for a boy that probably doesn’t remember her anymore. “I had to get away from the city and relax for a bit. Clear my mind and all that.” The man slowly nodded as he slid a piece of laminated paper towards her containing the rates. “How many nights?” he asked. Aly was unsure. Brenda only said that John filed a leave, but no one knew for how long. Was she planning to stay there until he went back to the city? She had no idea. No plans whatsoever. “Um, a week?” she scanned the paper and chose the most expensive she could find. “I’d like the deluxe suite, please.” Aly computed the cost in her head and handed him the money. A week in their deluxe suite was still cheaper than 3 nights at the local 3-star city hotel. The man suspiciously counted the bills then handed her a key. “You got friends in this town?” Aly shook her head a bit too fast. “No, sir.” Technically, she and John were just acquaintances—well, close acquaintances, if you’d ask Aly—and not friends. “Hmm,” he hummed. He waved for her to come closer and warned, “Be careful. This place is full of ghosts and bastards like that damn Frank. Accusing me of stealing his—” The door beside him opened once again and revealed a lady around the same age as him judging by her white hair and wrinkled eyes. She immediately hit the man’s arm with a spatula, much to his and Aly's surprise, and said, “Oh, you hush, Fred! Going on about Frank like he’s not your brother! Scaring this poor, young lady.” She turned to Aly and smiled. “Hello, dear, welcome to the town. I’m Marion, and you’ve met my stupid husband, Fred. He’s been in a mood since Frank asked him if he saw the chicken feed he ordered—” “He accused me!” Fred complained, but with one shush from Marion, he retreated obediently. “Don’t pay any mind to men, they’ll just make your head hurt.” Marion apologetically smiled. With the apron and spatula, she seemed like one of those ladies that liked to bake for their grandkids and neighbors. She seemed as motherly and calm as her husband was aggressive. “What’s your name, dear?” “Aly,” she didn’t bother to lie. “Aly Craig.” “Nice to meet you, Aly. We don’t get much visitors here. There are only four other guests staying in the place right now. Have you had dinner?” Aly shook her head, suddenly feeling hunger at the mention of food. “I’ll send up dinner in a while. Fred will show you around and help you to your room.” Marion shot an imposing glance at her husband, who only rolled his eyes but nodded, before walking back to the room she came from. Fred walked past the desk and grabbed Aly's luggage. “Let me give you a tour,” he said without much enthusiasm. He nodded towards the door beside the desk. “That leads to mine and the missus’ quarters and the kitchen. That door on the other side is the dining area—there’s a coffee maker and vending machine. Beside it is the room where you can play pool and darts, that one back there near the stairs is for mops and beside it is the laundry.” He led them towards the old manual elevator beside the mop closet. It was the first time Aly had ever experienced getting in one, and she didn’t know whether she should be amazed at the relic or be concerned that it was a relic. Once they arrived on the second floor, Aly followed as Fred walked to the end of the hallway, made a right turn and opened the door second to the last in a row of 4 doors. “Here’s your room. It’s quiet in this wing because you’ve got no neighbors here yet. There is a telephone and a directory inside. I hope you youngsters still know how to use a wired telephone?” Aly nodded. “You can call if you need something. We serve breakfast at 8 AM, lunch at 11, and dinner at 6 PM here. You can request for towels and a change of sheets, the laundry is free to use any time. Questions?” Aly shook her head. “No, but, I won’t be requiring breakfast. I don’t usually wake up that early.” Fred tutted as he turned on the lights. “That won’t do. Marion will still prepare breakfast for you, and you can just heat it up when you go down,” he said. Shaking his head, he disapprovingly added, “Kids are so weak nowadays because they skip the most important meal of the day to sleep. Anyhow, here are your bags and have a nice stay.” “Thank you, sir.” “Fred is fine,” with that, he nodded at her and walked away, lighting up a pipe and leaving a cloud of smoke behind him. Aly peeked into the room then cautiously entered. The floor was carpeted and the red paint with gold moldings remained intact. There was a queen-sized bed on the left, windows on one side that stretched to the ceiling, with a glass door to a balcony beside. Then an old wooden closet, a pink vanity desk, and a bedside lamp that surprisingly still worked. “It’s… fairly okay,” she muttered. “This will do,” mostly trying to convince herself. Aly opened her bags and started to unpack. She had left in such a rush—less than a day after she heard the news from Brenda—that she basically just stuffed her bags with the first pieces of clothing she laid her hands on. Looking at it now, she mostly brought sundresses with a rogue black formal dress in the mix, yoga clothes, silk blouses, crop tops, and a tattered sweatshirt from college. Aly opened the closet and almost shrieked at the amount of cobwebs inside. “Oh hell, no.” She said, her face wrinkled in disgust as she used one of the towels to wipe the insides. Thankfully, she was smart enough to bring a small bottle of her special cleaning concoction, which she used to clean every inch of the closet. Seeing the state of the other furniture, she proceeded to wipe them down as well—she could only assume it hadn’t been used in weeks—spending an entire half-hour just cleaning until the room seemed decent enough. When she was finally done putting things into their new homes for the week, Aly plopped onto the bed in exhaustion. It had been a tiring day—from packing, buying a last-minute plane ticket, sitting beside a drooling, sleeping man throughout the flight, inhaling the smoke from the taxi's 2-hour ride, and finding out that the place she was heading to looked fresh out of a horror film. Aly pulled out her phone from the pocket of her romper and checked out John's social media profile once again. She sighed as she saw that the last post was still from 3 weeks ago about an office party, then placed her phone against her chest and closed her eyes. “What the hell was I thinking?” Aly muttered as the weight of what she'd just done occurred to her. “I’ve become a crazy stalker. Brenda was right—but, also, what if John never returns to the city and this is my last chance to make an impression? What would I even say? Maybe I should do a coincidental—” Aly shut her mouth and immediately sprung up at the sound of something clattering outside of her room. If she remembered correctly, Fred said that there were no other guests on her side of the floor, so why was there a noise? “Fred?” Her voice broke as she called out. No answer. Quietly, she made her way to the door—her heart pumping loudly inside her chest. As she made little to no sound, she felt thankful for the carpeted floor—even if it needed a good hour of vacuuming. Aly peeked into the peephole first, and when she saw nothing on the other side, she reluctantly opened the door and looked left to right. No one was there. “It was probably just a rat,” she said as she tried to calm herself down. It took most of her will power not to think about the worst case scenario—a murderous hotel ghost. She was never one to believe in the paranormal, but seeing the state of things, she was slowly becoming more open-minded to it. Aly shivered at the thought and immediately grabbed her key before fleeing downstairs. On the way to the kitchen, there were no signs of other people—in fact, it was so quiet that Aly would have thought the entire building was deserted, if it weren’t for the smell of something savory coming from the kitchen. Aly knocked and cautiously opened the door. Relief flooded her as her eyes laid upon Marion and Fred, who were arranging plates. Marion was the first to notice her. With a motherly smile, she asked, “Settled in, dear? I hope you found the place to your liking.” “Um, yeah it was nice. Say, do you have any rats in the building? Or, pets?” Aly asked, trying her best to sound calm. Fred looked at her as if she had just said something weird. “We don’t have rodents in this place. Those damn things eat everything!” Marion shook her head. “We're very careful with rodents and roaches, Aly. Did you happen to see one?” “No, no, I was just making sure. I also hate those darn rats.” Aly nervously laughed. “I’ll be on my way now.” “Oh, hold on, dinner's ready. You can eat at the dining area or in your room. Here,” Marion said as she handed a tray of food to Aly, who thanked her for it before leaving. “No rodents, no roaches, no pets, no guests in my side of the building,” Aly muttered to herself as she went up the stairs, balancing the tray with both hands. “I probably just… it’s probably just nerves or jet-lag. I should get some rest after dinner so I can meet John—” Aly was about to make the right turn from the main hallway, when she heard something rattling. It was coming from just around the corner, most likely somewhere near the door to her room. She very carefully put the tray down on the floor, and flattened her back against the wall. Slowly, she inched towards the corner then peeked—just for a second. Aly felt her heart beat even faster as she saw the back of a man standing still at the end of the hallway. Above him, the lights flickered. His brown tweed coat was worn and full of scratches, he was missing one shoe, his hair looked like he hadn’t showered in days, and his head hung—an air of despair circling around him. As he was about to turn his head, Aly hid so she wouldn’t be seen. She pursed her lips to make sure she wouldn’t make a sound, as fear started to take over her. There was the rattling once again. She decided she’d take one more look before running down for dear life. So, with a deep breath, Aly slowly moved her head to the side and peeked once more. The man was nowhere to be seen. With a frown, Aly moved out of her hiding spot and inspected the area. It was a dead end. There was no way he could have escaped without passing by her, as well. Aly had never believed in ghosts before that night.
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