II-Roommates

Day one

JOHN

I arrived after a 13-hour and 30-minute flight. I exited the airport and was immediately met by an Italian man in his forties with a newly growing beard wearing a checkered coppola hat.

"Welcome to Italy, sir. My name is Francesco, and I will be your personal driver." When he introduced himself, he extended his hand to me, and we shook hands with direct eye contact and a smile. It is common practice to greet them with a handshake, direct eye contact, and a smile. Yes, I reserved a car and driver for a 17-day package at the hotel.

"Hello Francesco, my name is John Fernandez Waldorf, and I'm delighted to meet you," I said as we shook hands. He immediately let go of my hand and opened the car door for me, taking my luggage and loading it into the back of his car.

"Thank you very much, my friend," I said as I climbed into the car. Francesco began driving the car. My distance is still quite long because I am not staying in a city but in the countryside of Italy. I prefer quiet communities free of distractions so that I can concentrate on my writing.

I intend to write a book and have it published. My dream since high school has been to become a writer, but not all dreams can be achieved right away. So I'm going to go after my dreams now, before it's too late. I've been struggling a lot lately, so I'd like to use that as motivation to pursue my dream.

I couldn't help but feel sad as I looked out the window at the beautiful scenery we were passing through, such as the forest and cottages on mountains. Hanz and I have been to Italy before, and we spent a few days in the exact location where I am going today. One of the reasons I considered returning to that location is that Hanz dislikes it and has stated that he will never return there again. And knowing Hanz, if he doesn't want it, he won't even consider it; nothing—not even me—can change his mind. So there's no reason for him to follow me if he's searching for me.

It aches to consider that he won't look for me—possibly because he already knows I'm fed up with everything, or perhaps because he has come to the conclusion that he no longer loves or needs me. The most painful part of our relationship is that one day you'll wake up and realize that your husband has stopped loving you and is acting hurtful toward you in an effort to fill the void he felt. I'm not sure why, but that's how I always think about it; perhaps I am not enough for him.

We reached the hotel later on. I got there just as twilight was falling. The elegance of the hotel fascinated me. With walls built of white bricks, the hotel essentially starts to resemble a mansion. About a hundred rooms make up the entire building. The Dela Francia family, which is a quiet large family, reportedly used to reside here. For the kids' education, however, the family relocated to the city. The family chose to convert the mansion into a hotel because it was no longer needed. Naturally, some renovations have also been done. The architecture is very Italian, including the walls.

When I exited the vehicle, a man with a luggage cart welcomed me right away. I headed straight for the front desk as soon as I arrived at the hotel. The receptionist greeted me, saying, "Good evening, sir, how may I assist you?"

I introduced myself and told the receptionist that I had a reservation here from a week prior. I responded right away to her question, "Alright, sir, may I know your entire name, sir." When the lady was working on her computer looking for my name, I responded, "Ahh, well, certainly, my name is John Fernandez Waldorf."

The woman offered me the key card and said, "Here it is, sir, and this is your key card. Your room number is 98." I took it and thanked her right away, and then I went to the elevator with the man who was pushing a luggage cart next to me. When I entered the elevator, I immediately pressed the number four button and waited for a few seconds.

I rushed outside and looked for my room as soon as I heard the elevator's opening sound, and I immediately recognized it. I used the key card to unlock the door and go inside. The spacious room can accommodate two to four persons. The view outside is lovely; you can see the lake and the surrounding woods. There is also a small living room. I went to the balcony and observed the entire area. Here, the atmosphere is fresh and the sky is filled with stars.

Wait! That was a shooting star! I quickly shut my eyes and thought of a wish. I muttered to myself, "I hope one day I will meet a man who will cherish me for the rest of his life and I hope he will truly love me, the kind that is actually scared of hurting me."

I turned to face the employee from the hotel earlier, the one with the luggage cart, and said, "Excuse me, sir." He asked me, "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir, your luggage is now set." I replied with a smile that, of course, I gave him a tip, and then I shook my head and said, "Thank you so much, but no, you may go now."

"You're welcome, sir. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call the front desk; we will be happy to serve you. I may now excuse myself, sir," he said as he formally exited my room.

I immediately stripped naked, literally. I need some peace and relaxation. I lay on the bed without the covers and closed my eyes to relax. As I heard the door open in the middle of my meditation, I hurriedly jumped up from the bed, but it was too late when a familiar man walked in and saw me naked.

We yelled, "Who are you?" at each other. I caught him staring at me puzzled, so i quickly covered my body with a blanket from my bed. "Who are you? And why are you in my room, exactly?" I questioned him firmly. He appeared perplexed, as evidenced by the meeting of his eyebrows and his obvious reaction.

He asked me back, and I was equally perplexed: "Excuse me, I should be the one to ask you that; this is my room—so who are you and why are you here in MY room?"

I replied, "What? No, this is the room that I reserved here last week."

He added, holding out his key card, "I booked my reservation here last week too, and they said that my room number is 98. I can practically prove it."

I showed him my key card and replied, "Well, I have mine here too!" We each fixed our eyes on one another and prepared to argue but he responded, "You know what? This doesn't feel right. I'm going to call the manager," and then he left the room. I instantly changed into my clothes and followed him.

EVAN

I went down to speak with the manager at the front desk. On the earlier flight, I was seated next to that man; how dare he keep claiming that the space was saved for him when I was the first to claim it? I hurriedly stepped inside the elevator when I felt a presence behind me. He didn't look at me, though, and his expression was grave. In the direction toward the first floor, he pressed the button. Before we were able to reach the ground floor, we were both silent. Together, we headed to the front desk and started complaining. He addressed the woman abruptly, "Excuse me, Miss, how did this stranger get to be with me in the same room unit?" He was the first to voice a complaint, which startled me as well.

The woman seemed anxious as she continued, "I'm very sorry, sir, but can I have your room numbers?"

I quickly replied, drawing the man's attention to me, "It's room 98." Before continuing, the woman was attending to something on her computer.

"Sir, what are your names?"

The man introduced himself as "John Fernandez Waldorf," which surprised me a little and I responded, "Evan Waldorf," much to John's utter shock.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir John and Sir Evan, but we have a situation here. Let me call my manager to handle this matter. Please wait for a moment." The woman said, as she made a phone call.

"I'm sorry, but is your last name Waldorf?" John asked me. I merely answered, "Yeah." He appeared to understand what was happening by nodding. I was confused, so I turned to face him when he continued, "I guess we were mistaken as a married couple." A couple? seriously?

I questioned him, "What do you mean?" but he just put on a fake smile. He just stated, "It's a long story, but last week I placed a reservation here under me and my husband's name, Hanz Waldorf."

I was left speechless by what he said. Is he married? To a man with the last name Waldorf? "Wait, do you mean you're married to a man whose last name is Waldorf?" I inquired as he nodded in agreement, but it wasn't that obvious that he was married because he appeared to me as if he had recently ended a relationship.

I continued "I booked a reservation here last week too under myself and my colleague's names, Jean, pronounced as John Fernandes with an s." I said emphasizing the letter S.

We immediately understood what was happening. We both answered at once, "It's misidentification," and we both started laughing.

"Hello and good evening. I see that there is a problem here?" John and I had a peek at the woman after the management informed us of her arrival. The manager was a little puzzled, so we informed her what happened, adding, "Yeah, and it's misidentification we think is Miss." John and I both said.

When she heard our side, she said, "Do you have any valid IDs with you, gentlemen?" John and I both produced our Passports and handed them to the manager.

"We're sorry to hear about the situation, sir, but all of the rooms are now occupied, so we're unable to shift any of you right now." After hearing what the manager said, John and I exchanged looks.

"If you like, we can transfer any of you to the closest hotel, and we'll give you a refund."

John sadly remarked, "I'll transfer," but I interrupted him right away. I leaned my face near to his so he could hear me better and whispered, "If it's alright with you, we can just share the room; there are two beds in that room, and it's too huge for a single person."

"But how about your workmate?" He asked me inquisitively. "Well, he can't come because of some personal issues, so I'll be on my own for the 17-day trip," I explained, and he nodded.

"Same situation, so I'm up with that idea; you don't seem like a bad person though." he replied, and I softly laughed.

"Miss, since our friends aren't coming, we'll just stay in the room together, but is there anything you can do to at least settle this matter?" I asked the manager.

The manager offered us an opportunity, so John and I took another look at each other. "Yes, sir, there is. Since you paid for your accommodation here, we will give you the free tour for the seventeen days of your stay here in Italy. You can travel anywhere you want, and we'll pay for everything."

"That's fine; thanks, Miss; we'll get going then," I said with a wave of my hand. I didn't bother John as we walked to the elevator in silence because I sensed he didn't want to talk.

We entered the room without saying anything; he was laying quietly on the bed, his back against the headboard, smoking a cigarette and watching TV. He didn't even bother to face me. I understand because we're just strangers, but half of me still finds this odd. We'll be sharing a room for the next 17 days; isn't it strange that we don't talk?

I kept glancing at him while I was organizing my stuff, hoping he would at least try to look at me for a moment. But I failed because he was too busy watching television. Suddenly, I noticed a typewriter on a table. Is he an author or what? Anyway, after I settled down, I took a pair of clothes with me and headed to the bathroom to have a shower.

HANZ

"Excuse me, sir?" I regained consciousness when my secretary called. I just realized I was surprised and distracted by what was going on.

"What is it?" I asked, looking at him.

"Are you all right, sir? You don't seem to be in the mood today; what happened?" He asked, and I smiled as I shook my head.

I can't believe John left without saying goodbye; usually, he says goodbye when he leaves, but now he doesn't text or update anything, and the most shocking thing is that he left something in my drawer: divorce papers, which he has already signed; I'm at a loss for what to do.

I'd like to settle things, and I'd like to speak with him in case he changes his mind. I know I did something terrible and hurt him terribly, but I'm willing to make amends and change myself for him if he'll just let me.

I tried everything; I even called his best friend, Renne, but all she said was that she had no idea where John had gone.

"I'm fine; I'm just having a bad day, and I'm still a little hungover from last night," I explained as I shifted my seat. My secretary sat beside me. He sat in my armchair and wrapped his arms around my neck, caressing my chest.

"Should I get some soup for your hangover? Just tell me I can go get some," he said flirtatiously. But instead of being turned on, I was disgusted.

"I said I'm fine, Terence; I can't do this right now; get back to work," I said to him, standing up fixing my clothes.

Damn it !I need to find John.