Page 56 of Something Like Forever
Tim took note of it,quickly trying to memorize as many landmarks as possible beforethey pulled into the parking garage. After getting his luggage fromthe back, they walked to an elevator, but Mr. Tanaka didn’t pushthe button for the lobby.
“I took the liberty ofchecking you in,” he explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all!” Tim said,glad to be one step closer to relaxation. His room was on theeleventh floor. Mr. Tanaka guided him to a door and handed him amagnetic keycard. Tim wasn’t sure how long his guide planned onsticking around, but it seemed rude not to invite him in. “Have youseen the room yet?”
Mr. Tanaka nodded. “It’svery nice. I tried to stock it with everything you mightneed.”
“Wow? Really?” Tim pushedhis way inside. “Let’s see!”
The room was fine. He hadstayed in extravagant places before, usually when trying to impressBen. Tim was also okay with humbler accommodations. This wassomewhere in between. The room was long with a bed at the far endnear the windows. A couch and television was next to this, andnearest to the door was a kitchenette. A pair of neatly placedslippers waited before a bathroom separated by a sliding door. Hishome for the duration of the stay. He was reminded of William andJason’s place, which now felt even farther away than it usuallydid. Another continent, a different world.
“Something wrong?” Mr.Tanaka asked.
“No,” Tim said. “Just alittle jolt of homesickness.”
“Which is why I stockedthe refrigerator with a mixture of comfort foods and new things youmight like to try.” Mr. Tanaka opened the door to showhim.
Tim spotted beer, whichwas an excellent start. Just about everything in there looked good,which made him realize how hungry he was. A warm meal sounded best,and although the room had a microwave, after eating airline food,he craved quality.
“Is there anything else Ican do for you?” Mr. Tanaka asked.
“Does this hotel have arestaurant?”
“They do, and it’s highlyrated.”
Tim hesitated. Would he beable to order there or even read the menu? He supposed he could askhis guide to order for him, but when he tried to imagine thelogistics, it seemed a crass request.Tellthe waiter what I want and then leave.Thatwouldn’t be cool, so he opted for another solution. “Are youhungry? If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, that’s totallyfine. If not, we could have breakfast together. Mytreat.”
“Dinner,” Mr. Tanakacorrected with a smile. “I have a call I need to make, but whydon’t you get settled and we’ll meet in the lobby. Fifteenminutes?”
“Awesome,” Tim said.“Thanks for driving me here and setting everything up.”
Mr. Tanaka clearlyappreciated the gratitude, even though he tried to hide it. He washandsome, or would be if he loosened up. Tim wasn’t used toeverything being so formal. Should he put on a suit before eating?Currently he was wearing an old hoodie and his most comfortablejeans. Rather than ask, he saw his guide to the door. Then hechecked his phone, trying to figure out how to sign on to theWi-Fi. When he didn’t have any luck, he used the restroom andfreshened up, changing into gray slacks and a black dress shirt.Both were more wrinkled than he liked, but he was already out oftime.
He went down to the lobbywhich, as always with hotels, was more lavish than the room. Thestrategy was to make a good first impression, but to him it alwaysseemed pointless, since few people spent time in the lobby. Whocared about a fireplace or marble bricks with water running overthem? Now if those things had been in his room, he’d be taking picsand bragging to anyone who would listen.
Mr. Tanaka saw him and stood up from one ofthe lush couches, Tim experiencing the same naggingfamiliarity.
“You look very sharp,Wyman-sama,” Mr. Tanaka said.
“Thanks,” Tim replied,already sick of hearing his last name so much. “Am I dressed toocasually? You look a lot nicer in your suit.”
“Between you and me,” Mr.Tanaka said, leaning forward to whisper, “most days I can barelywait to get home and switch into sweatpants and aT-shirt.”
Tim laughed. “I know the feeling.”
“But no, you’re dressedfine. The restaurant is just over here.”
Down a short hall was abar and grill. Whatever they were cooking smelled delicious. Timhung back while his guide took care of the details. Tim was a poorjudge, but the Japanese he spoke sounded just as convincing as hisEnglish. That had him intrigued, so once they were seated in abooth and had placed their drink orders (a beer for him, a tea forMr. Tanaka) he decided to ask.
“Are you from Japan?Because your English sounds native.”
Mr. Tanaka smiled in a way that wassurprisingly playful. “Care to guess where I was born?”
“Oh. Okay. Well your namesounds Japanese—”
“Colder.”
They were playinghot/cold? “You’re an American.”
