Hotel Iris Read Free

you.” His tone was polite, quite unlike theman who had shouted in the lobby of the Iris, and this somehow made me even more nervous.
    “Please don’t worry about what my mother said. You were very generous when you paid the bill.”
    “But it was a terrible night.”
    “That awful rain …”
    “Yes, but I mean I’m still not sure how things ended up the way they did. …”
    I remembered that I had found a bra wadded up on the landing after they left that night. It was lavender, with gaudy lace, and I had gathered it up like the carcass of a dead animal and tossed it in the trash bin in the kitchen.
    The children were running wildly around the waiting room. The sun was still high in the sky, sparkling on the sea outside the window. The island in the distance, as everyone in town seemed to agree, was shaped like a human ear. The excursion boat had just rounded the lobe of the island and was heading back toward us. A gull rested on each post of the pier.
    Now that I was standing next to him, the man seemed smaller than I had imagined. He was about my height, but his chest and shoulders were thin and frail. His hair was even more neatly combed now, but I could see a bald spot in back.
    We stood quietly for a moment, looking out at the sea. There was nothing else to do. The man grimaced in the bright sunlight, as though he’d felt a sudden pain.
    “Are you taking the boat?” I asked at last, suffocated by the silence.
    “I am,” he said.
    “People who live here don’t usually ride it. I did it only once, when I was little.”
    “But I live on the island.”
    “I didn’t know anyone actually lived there.”
    “There are a few of us. This is how we get home.” There was a diving shop on the island and a sanatarium for employees of a steel company, but I hadn’t known about any houses. The man rolled and twisted his tie as he spoke, creasing the tip. The boat was getting closer, and the children had begun lining up impatiently by the gate. “The other passengers have cameras or fishing poles or snorkels—I’m the only one with a shopping bag.”
    “But why would you want to live in such an inconvenient place?”
    “I’m comfortable there, and I work at home.”
    “What kind of work?”
    “I’m a translator—from Russian.”
    “Translator … ,” I repeated slowly to myself.
    “Does that seem odd?”
    “No, it’s just that I’ve never met a translator before.”
    “It’s a simple sort of job, really. You sit at a desk all day long, looking up words in a dictionary. And you? Are you in high school?”
    “No, I tried it for a few months, but I dropped out.”
    “I see. And how old are you?”
    “Seventeen.”
    “Seventeen … ,” he repeated, savoring each syllable.
    “There’s something wonderful about taking a boat to get home,” I said.
    “I have a small place. It was built a long time ago, a cottage on the far side from where the boat docks. Just about here on the ear,” he said, tilting his head toward me and pointing at his own earlobe. As I bent forward to look at the spot, our bodies nearly touched for a moment. He pulled back immediately, and I looked away. That was the first time I realized that the shape of an ear changes with age. His was no more than a limp sliver of dark flesh.
    The excursion boat blew its horn as it pulled up to the dock, scattering the gulls in a cloud. The loudspeaker in the waiting room announced the departure, and someone unhooked the chain at the entrance.
    “I have to be going,” the translator muttered.
    “Good-bye,” I said.
    “Good-bye.” I felt as though we were saying something far more important than a simple farewell.
    I could see him from the window as he joined the line of passengers and made his way along the pier. He was short, but there was no mistaking his suit in the crowd of tourists. Suddenly, he turned to look back and I waved to him, though it seemed absurd to be waving to a stranger whose name I didn’t even know. I thought