Seven Of Them Gathered In The Lobby

All seven of them gathered in the lobby as the wind whipped white froth outside. No one would be leaving. Another day in this old, but well cared for hotel might have been an extra day of vacation for some, but not for others.

“Why weren’t we informed of this?” an angry male voice boomed from the patron side of the front desk. He was dark haired, green eyed, and towered over the woman behind the desk by at least 5 inches.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Markey, these things happen.”

“Blizzard conditions don’t just happen, they evolve. What’s the point of meteorologists if they miss something as big as this!?”

“Weathermen aren’t always right,” The woman said calmly, despite his attitude.

Mr. Markey slapped his palms down on the wooden countertop and scoffed.

“Hey, calm down! She didn’t make it snow. You want to rage on someone? Call the local news,” said a female from one of the two love seats in the foyer. The brunette had been staring out the window, waiting to ask her own questions, but had now turned to face them.

Mr. Markey gave the brunette a look of disgust, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. No bars, but he tried to dial out anyway, moving away from the counter and the others.

The brunette approached the counter. Her eyes darted to the name tag pinned to the woman behind the counter. “Marianne? I’m sorry that guy was such a jerk,” she lowered her voice at the latter, so as not to stir up Mr. Markey any further. “Although, I do find myself feeling some of his frustration. How did this weather system move in without any one of us hearing about it?”

Marianne nodded. “I wonder that myself, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” The brunette asked. “Has this happened before?”

“Oh yes, in fact, over the years it seems to be happening more and more. One day, it’s beautiful and clear, and the next, static,” Marianne said and gestured to the windows. “Just like the old TV in the breakroom.”

The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed. Never in her entire life had she experienced a surprise snow storm. Sure weathermen predicted one amount of snow and then it ended up being more or less, but never no storm at all to a raging blizzard. It didn’t make sense. Then again she’d never been to…

She couldn’t remember the name of the town she was in, or how she got there, or for what reason. The brunette looked up to ask Marianne for the answers to at least one of those questions, but she had already moved on to one of the other guests who had waited their turn to speak to her.

“Can’t get a damn signal,” Mr. Markey said, his phone no longer raised to the ceiling as he walked around.

“Hey,” the brunette said. “Do you know where we are?”

Mr. Markey made a face that reminded her of a bratty kid she once babysat. “Are you stupid? We’re in…” His face melted into confusion. He didn’t remember either.

A sinking feeling settled in the brunette. “Do you know how you got here?”

Mr. Markey’s eyes showed he was searching his memory for the answer, but soon they narrowed and he shook his head, annoyance replacing his confused look. “I don’t have time for this.” He pushed past her and began repeating his attempts at searching for a signal, arm raised toward the ceiling once again.

The brunette looked at the other five. A mother and her child sat on the stairs leading to the second floor of rooms. She gazed out the window at the snow as she rubbed circles on the back of the crying boy in her lap. Marianne was speaking to an older gentleman and his wife, both were dressed to the nines. She in a ¾ length cotton dress, light teal in color, he in a suit coat and fedora. He clutched his wife’s hand in his left and a slick black stick cane in his right. They spoke inaudibly but Marianne was smiling softly so surely it was a pleasant conversation. The only other person in the room was a thirty something man, seated on the other loveseat. He was looking at the brunette with a polite smile. He seemed at ease with the situation and that put her at unease.

The thirty something pat the seat beside him and waited for the brunette to join him. She considered avoiding him, but despite the twisting knot in her stomach she approached. She did not sit, but stared waiting for him to speak first.

“We’ve been here before,” he said simply.

“No, this is the first time I’ve ever been…here.”

“Then why do I know your name is Marla, and you have no idea where ‘here’ is?”

Her lips parted in surprise.

The thirty something’s polite smile turned into a grin. “Sit. I promise it’s okay.”

Marla did sit, but instead of sitting beside him, she sat across from him, where she had first been staring out the window. “What is going on?”

“We’re in a fog. It happens from time to time. We don’t know where we are, or where we’re going, so we get stuck and frustrated, and scared, and depressed, and so on.” He glanced over his shoulder to the couple at the counter with Marianne. “They’re trying to check out,” he said. “But she can’t let them. It’s not time.”

Marla shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“You will, eventually, and then you’ll forget again. It’s part of the disease.”

“Disease?!”

“You’re not who you think you are.”

“But you just said…”

“Your name is Marla here,” he said gesturing around him, but you’re not really Marla. You’re not really anyone. You’re a memory. A lost memory, but a memory nonetheless.”

Marla looked at him incredulously.

“This isn’t a hotel, this is the memory of a hotel the real Marla once visited. She got snowed in and now, whenever she gets like this, we end up here. I know, it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Look around, you’ll see that everything as unfamiliar as it seems is equally familiar, even the people, even me.”

This was certainly crazy talk, Marla thought, but at the same time she felt herself believing him. In fact, not only believing him, but knowing that what he was saying was true.

“I can see you’re not fully there yet, and that’s to be expected, we’re still not over the hump. But soon it will be very clear and then….well then it will be like it never happened and we’ll have this same conversation.”

“This is Groundhog’s Day,” Marla muttered.

The thirty something laughed, “Kind of like that, except I’m Bill Murray and the rest of you are the townsfolk.”

“Why do you remember everything?”

“Well, I’m not sure about that. In fact, I’m not sure that’s true. I have a feeling champ over there remembers too.” He glanced over at the crying child. “Why else would he be so sad?”

Marla looked at the little boy and his mother and suddenly remembered a similar scene. Except instead of sitting on the stairs, the mother was in a rocking chair, and she was older, much older, and her son sat beside her, his adult hand holding hers as tears washed down his face. I miss you mom.

Marla looked up at the thirty something who was grinning again. He nodded at her, “That’s a real memory. She’s not all there anymore,” he said and tapped his temple. “Which is why we’re stuck here.”

“We’re memories,” Marla repeated.

“At different stages in her life.” He got up and joined Marla on her loveseat. “Marla and her husband in the grand years,” he said pointing at the elderly couple. “Marla and her son in their youth.” He pointed at the mother and child. “Her son when he was older. Always too busy to deal with her.”

Marla watched Mr. Markey roam around the room still trying to call out.

“And you?” Marla asked looking away from the others and back to the thirty something.

“Marla’s husband in his prime,” he grinned and held out his hand as if to introduce himself. Marla shook it.

“What about Marianne?” Marla suddenly remember the hotel clerk, who seemed to be busying herself behind the counter.

“Marianne is different. She’s not a memory. She’s sort of a gate keeper. Here to keep things orderly when chaos seeps in, and awaiting the day they turn the lights out on this place for good. On that day…”

“On that day, we get to check out,” Marla said nodding her understanding.

The thirty something tapped his nose.

“So what happens now?” Marla asked with a heavy sigh.

“Now, you’ll go back to staring out the window and this whole thing will start all over again.”

“What if I don’t look out the window?”

“It’s not a question of what if, it’s when,” the thirty something said and was suddenly opposite her on the other love seat again.

Marla’s brow furrowed, but Mr. Markey’s booming voice pulled her eyes toward the counter. He was in front of Marianne again shouting at her.

“Why weren’t we informed of this?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Markey, these things happens.”

The brunette rolled her eyes at the tall man at the counter and glanced back out the window. The wind whipped white froth outside as all seven of them gathered in the lobby.