Somnambulant in the Shelter Hotel

By Janice E. Black

The faces of Carolyn, Barbie and Jill, herself, smiled at Jill from under the cracked glass, splintered by someone carelessly letting the door swing against the framed photograph hanging beside it. She barely had the presence of mind to kick the shag rug against the heavy door so that it would not shut behind her. Along the steps descending into the basement, dark moisture dampened the walls. A dim light from an uncovered bulb in the hallway above penetrated the malodorous air.

She wondered if the old dumbbell waiter still worked, and tugged at the pulley, setting a din of clanging and squeaking to rattle through the old hotel.

Somewhere, this way, no, a door. Ah, there, sealed. All at once she dropped to a crouch with her flattened hand along the rim under the door. Then she waddled backwards like a duck to search the larger radius. Sweep. Sweep. The skin on her fingers brushed against the cement.

“Have you found it?” a male voice asked in an anxious whisper. Jill patted the floor.

“No. She hasn’t found it,” a sharp female voice complained. Jill rubbed rough granules off her palms with her thumbs, stood up confused, backed up to the stairs.

With a colossal summoning of will she turned and fled, tripping over the final step. At the top, she stumbled over the rug, and the door swung wide open. Jill lurched forward to arrest it, but, instead, sent it smashing into the framed picture.

Jill’s Journal: Fri/Sat overnight

I found myself coming out of the basement, almost tripping over that damn shag rug. For the life of me, what I was looking for...just on the edge...? I closed the door, saw broken glass.

Carolyn persuaded me to take the overnight shift. She pointed out that she could give me more hours, and pay me time and a half. If I start sleepwalking again, I’ll have to go back to day shifts. She said I could nap when the clients have turned in, but I have to answer the crisis line if it rings. Lying there with half an ear always primed. Afraid to go to sleep.

Sometimes I hear the unmistakable sound of ringing metal, something clanging against the fire escape. The first time I heard it I thought it must be the wind. The next time, I was drifting off into sleep and most definitely heard footsteps. Leaving the office lights off, I groped for the huge emergency flashlight to shine it on the metal stairs but the angle was wrong, and the battery went dead. I can’t remember...

Clients must be roaming around upstairs. They were all in bed when my shift started so I didn’t meet anybody. All night I heard them walking around, whispering. I turned on the living room lights, even though Carolyn said to be conscientious about energy use. My palms are indented with little pock marks. What are they from?

After I relieved Carolyn, I read in her Shift Summary about the planned renovations. Learning about tasks taken on by the day shift must have stirred up my imagination.

Shift Summary Sat AM

Police brought a client to the front door 3 or 4 AM. (What happened to our policy of them calling us from the station so we can screen over the phone?) She may be a battered woman—she does have old yellowing bruises along with fresher purple and pink ones—but she was also high as a kite. They should have taken her to detox first. I checked her into room #3, the one with the boarded up fireplace.

I heard the dumbwaiter, relic from the hotel’s former glory days.

Jill

Shift Summary Sat PM

Busy day. Occupant of room #1 left without completing exit papers. A new family was admitted from the Emergency Room: young woman with three kids. I facilitated Support Group in the afternoon. Client in room #3 had sobered up by then. She complained about hearing voices all night: probably hallucinations and dt’s. Crisis line rang off the hook. No vacancies. All rooms occupied.

Carolyn

Jill’s Journal: Sat/Sun overnight

Damn! Caught myself sleepwalking again! Dr. Metzger would write me a prescription but I’m scared as hell I would sleep through a crisis call.

I woke up in the living room—looking for something in the fireplace. Seemed like I had been trying to get through the cement slathered over the old opening. Also, I have a memory of whispers. I hate that!

I swear footsteps on the fire escape outside the office window woke me up but I was just dreaming. Then the basement door blew open—freaked me out.

Shift Summary Sun AM

No crisis calls. Babies in room #1 are all sick this morning. The Mom seems at her wits’ end and needs lots of help with coping with three sick kids. Make sure she gets to the Health Department to check for strep. She may need medical attention herself, is complaining of headache. She said she was up all night walking one baby or the other. They witnessed the beating and, besides being sick, are traumatized.

This old building rattles. The wind last night shook the old fire escape and blew the basement door open. Barbie, those might be safety hazards.

Jill

Shift Summary Sun afternoon

I took room #1 occupants for throat swabs. Had to use the ER because Health Department and clinics are closed today. The kids tested positive, are on meds now. See client notes.

Started cleaning the basement. While sweeping, I found a couple of keys at the base of the closed-up stairwell and stuck them in the drawer. It stinks down there, all mildewy.

Room #3 occupant complaining about blue laws. See specifics in client notes.

Barbie

Jill’s Journal Sun/Mon overnight

Dr. Metzger called in a prescription for me. (Thank heavens I have his off-hours number.) Filled it. The house is much too lively for me to journal, with kids getting baths, the other women hanging out in the kitchen talking. It’s a zoo. I know this would be a good opportunity for me to interact with them, but, what the hell. I am zonked...sleep deprivation. I want them to go to bed so I can try my meds and get a good nap tonight. Damn, crisis line’s ringing. Later.

Shift Summary Mon AM

Crisis line rang off the hook last night. Since we are full, I had to refer out of county. Sheriff cooperated with transport.

I swear I heard footsteps on that freaky fire escape.

Jill

Shift Summary Mon PM

Barbie fastened the metal fire escape against the building more securely so now this old hotel will pass safety inspection. Jill was right about someone going up and down. Evidently some homeless person has been sleeping at the top. Barbie threw out some ratty blankets, a bundle of clothes and stuff, and for good measure she boarded up the outside door into the old attic. Said she nailed it good and tight.

Carolyn

Shift Summary Tues AM

Last night the women stayed up late, although the kids in room #1 went to sleep earlier. Woman in #3 refused to go to bed, said there was too much activity in this place. “Sounds like a whorehouse at night,” were her exact words; claims she could hear it through the walls. Crisis calls kept me busy until about 3 AM.

Jill

Jill’s Journal Mon/Tues overnight

Jeez, that was a sweet nap—after everyone quieted down. Problem is, I woke up on the phone. Dr. Metzger says that’s a variant of sleepwalking. It’s worse when I am exhausted. I just gotta get some sleep. So, I am taking some of the stuff the doc gave me. Phone never rings these hours.

Shift Summary Tues PM

Woman called the crisis line, said she had called this morning, got no answer. Police report the same thing. Jill?

Carolyn

Jill’s Journal Tues/Wed overnight

I must have slept through those two calls. That won’t do. Tonight I am not going to take anything for sleep.

The tossed moon peered silently through the stilled lattice of the fire escape, into the office where the counselor reclined on the couch in her cotton sweats.

She sat up. She hoisted herself up to standing, and walked to the staff desk. With deliberation she rummaged in the desk drawer, scattering the soundless contents until her hands alighted on first one, then another key, clenched the cold metal objects, warming them. Her fingers fondled the rounded ends, the long shafts. Her thumbs glided over the rude tips.

She balked at the top of the stairs: door open. Wrapped in somnabulance, between the worlds, impermeable to common sense, she descended. Serenely she traversed the room to the blocked entranceway of a stairwell in the center.

A shrill call bell rang, short and curt. “Coming,” she chanted tolerantly.

Each key waited its turn. Which is which?

“Try one,” she heard whispered on the other side.

Mechanically, she raised her left arm, mechanically, like a crane heaving a load of bricks up, up, up, over the waterway, onto the ships deck. She exhaled through her mouth, inserted the key, robot like.

The portal swung open like a gate of Troy. She passed into the city. The gate clamored shut behind her with a reverberating thud. The tinkling of the key hitting the ground on the other side awakened her.

Jill woke up, confused, wondering what had brought her to her senses. “Where am I? Why am I here?” She placed one damp hand against her cheek. The other clutched something hard and cool. One end of the object felt rough, angular; the other end, round.

“...let us out.” she thought she heard breathed close to her ear.

With her left hand she patted the narrow wall, seeking a light switch. Instead she touched what must have been an old, unlit gaslight. When she moved her foot, her stockinged toe bumped into a rising stair.

“Give it here,” a familiar male voice said languidly as if a child’s joke were over and becoming tiresome to those in authority. Jill obediently took three steps up, her left hand against the wall for balance, reaching forward with the key. She stopped.

A woman spat, “Or did you leave it out there? Stupid!”

Agitated murmuring alternated with placating tones. Jill clearly heard, “She’s seditious!” but could not differentiate any other meanings. Gradually, the reasonable male voice came to prevail.

“Come along,” it said, coaxing. Relieved, Jill resumed her ascent.

She listened through the wall to a man’s guttural pitch, young women’s laughter, playful. A player piano? Squeaking bedsprings.

“She’s the only one who heeded us.”

“She brought both keys,” someone said approvingly.

“Yes, but she left one outside,” whispered another.

“We must exit by the private entrance to the secret suite.”

“Hush.”

The whispering dissipated like two lovers passing in the night.

Jill heard a baby, whom she knew could not reside in room #1. Applause followed the cry of a newborn, and congratulatory voices, cooing.

All at once, she remembered, and halted abruptly, stood with her mouth agape, realization dawning.

“Oh, no...” she started.

“What?” All around her she heard everyone asking. “What’s going on?”

“What now?” snarled the whiny female, like one of Macbeth’s tormentors.

“It’s no use,” Jill said.

“What? What?” Sharply.

“That outside door to the attic suite has been boarded and nailed shut.”

Shift Summary Tues afternoon

Jill wrote in her journal that she was not going to take any meds. My guess is she walked out of the house in her sleep. If she does not turn up in a few hours, Carolyn says to call in a missing person’s report. Jill left no Shift Summary.

The clients all slept in very late.

Those neat keys I found yesterday are gone from the drawer.

Barbie