Empty Palms

The busy street outside the window resembled modern life itself. To Michael it was a window to the outside world living its own way uncontrollable and out of reach. Down on the ground floor across the street sat two young lovers sharing an outdoor table, both possibly half his age enjoying each other’s company over a coffee in the sun.

A reminder to himself of what he once was, a lack of money but rich in time with nothing but the future in front of him. Now middle aged and wealthy he would be willing to trade all the coin he had in order to go back and live poor but free again.

Michael then thought of his wife who he left at home unaware of his long-time infidelities'. 

He reminisced once being young with his wife all those years ago like that young couple at the café.

With that thought he clenched his eyes to try and eradicate the sweet memories and gently let the curtain drop shut to block the view.

He turned behind him to see the vast empty guest suite at the hotel which would be his home for the next forty-eight hours. His carry on-suitcase stood upright in the corner on its own. Small enough only to carry luggage for one person.

Fourteen red roses lay awaiting on the undisturbed king-sized bed.

A mobile phone began to sound off abruptly on the oak desk next to his house keys, it vibrated so hard that it made his keys rattle. It was his wife Stacy, so he answered it and sat himself at the corner of the bed amongst the shade of the room.

"Hi, how is the work conference going" His wife kindly asked. Michael found her optimism slightly irritating; he was already feeling a slab of guilt coming over him and now the mother of his children wants to make nice, which only made the next words come out of his mouth make him feel even more remorseful because he knew he would now have to lie.

"Everything is going well, it's the same as every year, meeting the same old faces, listening to the same old stories and laughing at the same old jokes. How are the kids?" The tension made him rub his brow.

"They're doing just fine; Molly misses you more than little Jack. But they are doing well. I think I might take them out tonight for their supper"

An awkward and eerie silence then settled for a moment before it became too unbearable for Michael.

"Why are you calling, Stacy?"

"I just wanted to say hi and see how you're doing"

"I'm fine"

"Is there something wrong?"

"No"

"You seem tense"

"I'm fine"

Another pause followed. This time Michael didn't want to say anything further, he knew there was a small storm brewing here and didn't want to worsen the situation more than it needed to be.

Stacy took her turn put her voice in with her sweetly calm tone but with a troubled hint "You know, if you don't want me to call just say so, then I wont waste either of our time"

"I am just in the middle of something, Stacy" Michael huffed "and I was just wondering if something was up. It's nothing personal, I was just asking what you wanted. You called me after all"

This is the last thing that Michael wanted to do right now, get into a squabble with the person he was secretly betraying for his own pleasure.

"If your wife calling you to say 'hi' is such a problem for you the I'll guess I will go. Good luck with... Whatever it is that you're doing" and with that Stacy hung up. Her voice began to break at the end, only ever so slightly.

Michael was plunged back to a silent guest suite at a foreign hotel. After that bitter contact with his wife he turned to stare at the roses on the bed that did not belong to her.

Somehow the room seemed a little darker, a little emptier.

This was a better chance than any to help himself to the mini bar.

The small fridge lit up his face as it was pried open, a small array of miniature liquor bottle all lined up like soldiers was a welcome site.

*

A second glass of scotch was consumed and it was still not powerful enough to subside Michael's guilt towards his wife and the frosty telephone call he had just previously.

What would she think of him if she knew that he had been seeing the same woman on a weekend, once a year for the past fourteen years? What would his children think, his son who looks up to him on how to be a man?

Michael felt tempted to call his wife Stacy back to try and ease his own emotional pain. Only then his mistress Kate came into his mind just as the sun was beginning to set outside.

Kate's long-flowing-brown hair, her smell, her smooth skin, her lips and her warmth, combined with the fact that she should be arriving into his guest suite and into his arms momentarily, sent the hairs on the back of his neck to stand and the insides of his chest to float. Bringing back that excitement that he felt more regularly in his teenage years. Where the scotch failed, the thought of Kate succeeded in making him feel more at ease.

Michael laid back on the bed and pulled out his phone and instantly looked up "Flight LS-1475" the flight carrying his happiness to him, it was well on its way and should be landing within the incoming hour.

*

Without his knowledge Michael had fallen asleep with his phone lying face down on his chest. He opened his eyes and the room laid black as the night sky itself.

With the small amount of whiskey still swilling in his head he managed to pull himself up and illuminate the room with the bedside lamp. With a small panic like a child who had lost something dear to him he grabbed his phone in haste. Where is Kate, she should be here already! He instantly thought to himself.

The light of the phone stung his eyes when he unlocked the screen. Low and behold; Flight LS-1475 had already indeed landed. So where was his mistress that he has been discreetly seeing for the past fourteen years?

A message! From Kate! Received 25 minutes prior!

His thumb fondled so panickily that it took him more than one attempt to open the text.

"Micky, I'm here at the hotel. downstairs at the bar. I cannot do this anymore. Not unless you want to commit. I mean, fully commit. It would involve leaving both our partners behind and making all the hard choices that go along with it. I'm ready Micky, I'm ready for you. Full time!"

Michael's hands began to shake, cold sweats were beginning to bead on his forehead. There was a second message:

"I'll wait for you here at the hotel bar. If you're ready for this, come get me. If not then I can take the next flight home".

No! Why now? He scrolled on:

 "If not, then there will be no hard feelings, promise! We shall both go back to live our normal lives. I have been thinking a lot about this Mickey, I'm sorry to bring this up on you now. But we both know this can't go on like this"

End of message. With that He stood up so quickly he somehow hit his knee on the bedside table. Michael was in pure disbelief that this was happening. He didn't know what to do yet he sat again breathing deeply and stared into his empty palms for what seemed like a lifetime. His eyes cold and empty but his mind racing.

He knew he didn't want to lose Kate especially now when she was so nearby. He needed to see her and fast, hopefully she would still be there and didn't leave the hotel whilst he carelessly snoozed.

When Michael grabbed his jacket and keycard, he looked at himself in the mirror briefly on his way out to straighten his tie and his hair to the best of his capabilities. He opened the door with a loud click, once again his phone erupted in his pocket, the vibration gave him a small jolt.

He looked to see who was calling to see the name “Stacy” flashing across the screen.