Adam enters the bar room and finds his father yet again, at the same table, with the same men, playing cards. He orders a drink and as he waits patiently, he rubs his sleepy eyes. He's supposed to be on his way home, in fact, he was supposed to be back with his wife, two days ago. What was supposed to be a two week trip, has now turned to a three week holiday, and Adam wasn't exactly enjoying himself.
The hotel was grand and spectacular, which made him a bit excited, though it would be quite a lot for his father and him, he couldn't wait to take his plans and sketches back to the shop and start to work on the extravagantly rugged furniture. Technically, their job was done in a week, but since it had been too long since either of them had been in New York, his father requested they stayed a few extra days, they deserved it, he had said. But instead of spending it exploring New York, or attending the theatre, they were spent at the top floor of the West Hotel, in the bar room.
His father has always been a gambler, and quite a drinker as well. Adam disliked putting his fortune at risk, so he avoids it at all cost. It was very difficult to get his father away from the cards once he was deep in, so instead, Adam waits patiently at the bar, he doesn't dare to leave him alone.
"You seem a bit down," comments the bartender as he sets his drink in front of him.
Adam looks up and attempts a smile. "Just tired."
Tired wasn't the right word.
"You know," starts the bartender. "One of these girls will be more than happy to keep you company."
Adam looks around him, a few girls were walking around the gaming tables, giggling with some older men, others sitting on other men's laps looking on the game they played. Adam shakes his head, none of them were Sophia.
He stands decisively, his drink untouched and walks towards his father. He lays a hand on his shoulder firmly. "Father," he whispers. "It's time to go."
Mr. Lancaster looks at him incredulously. "What time is it?"
"It's late enough," he replies as he pulls his father's arm up supporting his weight.
"I have a game to finish," he replies slurring his words.
"Come on Mr. Adam, your father is in good company," says Mr. Carson, one of the hotel's owners, clearly sober.
Adam knew their intentions, he wasn't as naïve as they thought. "You are drunk and you need to lay down," he tells his father ignoring Mr. Carson. He manages to get him on his feet, his weight heavy on his shoulder.
"I was winning Adam, I had a full house," Mr. Lancaster whispers loudly.
"I do not want to know how much you've lost," he whispers back. "Come on, let's get you to your room." He half drags his father to the elevator, the elevator operator watches them judgingly, but turns away before Adam notices.
They arrive to their floor and Adam grabs the keys from his father's jacket but finds the door unlocked. He pushes the door open and finds the lamps already lighted. "Were you expecting anyone, father?" Adam asks as he cautiously walks inside, his father suddenly finds his strength and straightens, brushing his hair to the side.
"He's expecting me."
Adam turns to a woman casually walking out the bathroom, she only wore her undergarments. Adam shields his eyes politely.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he hears his father say. "Thank you for your help Adam. Have a good night."
Adam nods and turns away, shutting the door behind him. He leans his back against the door rubbing his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised with this spectacle. His father indifference towards his wife was hard to ignore. And even though his father liked to boast about his flirtatious manner before meeting his wife. About how marrying Miss Carey was the best thing that ever happened to him, that marriage was what he needed to stop his reckless behavior. But his reckless behavior never really stopped, did it?
His room is just across his father's, so he takes a few steps forward and realizes that his door is also unlocked. He pushes it open but doesn't dare to walk in.
"Hi! You must be Adam!" says an excited girl. She's a pretty blonde girl dressed in a too elegant dress for what Adam assumes is her profession. She seems around Sophia's age and it makes him cringe.
"Who are you?" he lastly asks.
"I'm Jenny, your father hired me for the night. Whoa, you are very attractive," she replies easily as she wraps her arms around his neck seductively. "What's wrong? Come inside."
"I'm a married man."
She runs her hands down his chest and gently tugs him inside by his jacket. "I know, my best clients are married men."
"I'm not your client."
"Oh, you're so tense, come here," she says holding his hand and guiding him to the bed. "Your father said you have been so sad and that you were in some urgent need of company."
Adam pulls her wondering hands down and looks at her intently. "Go home."
She looks at him puzzled by his reaction. "You do look sad. Why are you so sad?" she reaches for his face but he holds her hand gently.
"I have a wife."
"I know you do, Mr. Lancaster told me it was an arrange marriage, so it's practically a contract, just like I have with you."
Adam stands and pulls out some bills from his jacket. "Here, for your time." He places it in her hand. Jenny looks at him puzzled. "Now, if you don't mind," he opens the door and waits patiently.
"But. . ." Jenny starts but trails off. "Well, have a pleasant night," she says instead feeling offended. Adam doesn't reply, he simply closes the door behind her.
He looks around his empty room and lays on the vast bed without bothering to get out of his evening clothes. He doesn't feel sad. He is lonely.
He turns to the right side of the bed and stretches his arm. He has never missed anyone as much as he misses his wife. He longs for her warmth, for her laugh, for their quiet conversations before going to sleep. He wanted to touch her, but not in a carnal way, not to fulfill his desires, but to just feel her soft skin, to hold her against him and listen to her heartbeat, he needs to be with her.
As he holds one of the pillows tightly against him, he closes his eyes picturing Sophia's warm skin and remembering the smell of her hair, he falls asleep.
Ò Ò Ò
Strong banging on the door wakes him up. He jumps up and looks around rapidly for Sophia, he shakes his head and stands slowly, feeling a little dizzy.
"What are these?" it's his father's words the second he opens the door.
"What?" replies Adam still dazedly.
"These." he hands him a pile of letters.
Adam looks through them and his eyes widens. "Why do you have them?"
"Because I told the concierge to hold any letters coming from you. Why are you writing to Sophia?"
"Why? Because she's my wife," replies Adam angrily. "You had no right to intercept my letters."
"Yes I did. You don't need to write to her, I don't write to your mother, why should you write to your wife."
"Why? Are you afraid I would tell her about your little encounters?"
"Adam," he retorts. "You can't be checking in to your wife every time you get out of the house. You're the man of the house, not her little boy."
"I am not checking in!" Adam replies frustrated. "I promised her I would write to her and I wanted to hear back from her."
His father laughs boisterously. "Oh Adam, she's fine. She's probably happy you're gone." He reaches for the letters but Adam pulls them out of his reach.
"What do you mean she's happy I'm gone?"
"Adam," he lays a hand on his shoulders trying to be encouraging. "Women sometimes get tired of, you know, doing their wifely duties, and they can use the break, and frankly so do we." He tries again to reach for the letters. Adam pulls away again. "You have to give me those now."
"They belong to me," Adam replies flatly.
Mr. Lancaster looks thrown off by his response. "Adam, give them to me."
Adam shakes his head in disappointment. "Do not fret father. I won't tell her about your hookers, it's not appropriate for a lady to read such ghastly things." And with that he closes the door not caring for his father's answer.
He sits on his desk and pulls out a piece of paper with a sense of relief. He thought she was indifferent to his absence, and that's why he hadn't received any replies to his letters. He couldn't enjoy his stay because he hadn't heard from her.
He takes his pen and thinks for a second. Looking down at the three letters he tried to send her, he comes to a decision. With a sudden spark of excitement he starts writing.
He's coming home.