750-word competition 2021 - Winner

‘Before you finish your first day of bell-hopping, Frecks, how’s about fetching Nathan a coffee?’
That’s what I liked about him. While other clerks treated me like something they’d stepped in, barking orders across the lobby, he spoke to me. And giving me a nickname, although my freckles have long since faded, made me feel he saw a person beneath the stupid uniform I wore. He worked the graveyard shift, so most of the guests had checked in and the lobby was deserted.
I asked him how he liked his coffee and that was the first time I heard his deep, hearty laugh, like he was delivering the funniest-ever punch line. ‘Like me, Frecks, like me: black, strong and sweet as molasses!’
I miss that laugh.
‘Nectar,’ he announced, slurping it back even though it must have been scalding. ‘Keep my coffee like that and I’ll live forever.’
That was probably the only lie I ever heard him tell.
‘So, Frecks, how d’you enjoy bell-hopping?’
What could I say? I needed the job. ‘I enjoyed it, sir.’
‘Now then, Frecks,’ he said after he’d stopped laughing. ‘There’s two golden rules. First, when it’s just you and me, I ain’t no sir: I’m plain old Nathan. And second, Nathan will always know when your truthing or untruthing. Do we have an understanding?’
‘Yes…’ I paused awkwardly before finishing the sentence with ‘…Nathan.’
‘That’s my man. Now tell me truthful, how was your first day bell-hopping?’
‘It’s just… well, some of the guests…’
‘What about them?’
‘Most don’t even look at me. It’s like I’m invisible. No sooner have I carried their bags to their room they almost slam the door in my face.’
I wondered whether it was just me, or whether Nathan laughed at everything.
‘Didn’t you get no tips?’ he asked.
‘Those that bothered gave little more than dimes or quarters and expected me to be grateful. One woman, though, she gave me a five dollar bill; said something about needing a service later on. I didn’t know what she meant so I told the desk clerk and he told me to mind my business carrying cases. He asked what room she was in. Then he disappeared for nearly an hour.’
At that Nathan laughed his loudest yet.
‘That’s people, for you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been here since my time in ’Nam. Every time I think I’ve seen all manner of life, in through that revolving door walks another.’
‘So how do you put up with them?’ I asked.
‘Okay, Frecks,’ he said draining the last of his coffee. ‘Here’s my secret. Just remember this: they’re all just passin’ through. No matter what they say, don’t say, do, or don’t do, chances are you seeing them is a one-off. They check in, they check out. It don’t matter what happens in between long as you don’t get involved.’
So those were Nathan’s words of wisdom: simple but they worked. When a guest found pressing gum into my hand by way of a gratuity amusing, I heard Nathan’s words: ‘Just passin’ through’. If I discovered myself in a room with a woman (and worryingly sometimes a man) just happening to step out of the shower needing a towel, there were Nathan’s words: ‘Just passin’ through’.
Nathan should have retired. Especially when he could barely walk and the stairs became impossible for him.
But the position of General Night Supervisor was created just for him: a job that involved little more than sitting with the night clerk and drinking coffee – black, strong and sweet – to while away the small hours. It was the least I could do for the man that guided me up the ladder from bellhop to porter to clerk to manager. And it was worth it just to hear his deep, hearty laugh ring around the lobby once in a while.
As close as we were, if he had any he never mentioned relatives. The hotel was his family. I tidied up his affairs, making sure he had a decent burial.
‘Frecks,’ he once said, ‘I don’t want no cremation. Just make sure they lay me back into the ground.’
The priest look surprised when, instead of soil, I threw a handful of demerara sugar and coffee beans onto Nathan’s lowered coffin.
I’m looking at his gravestone. I can almost hear him roaring out that deep laugh once again. Nothing sentimental: just his name, birth and death dates. And three simple words: ‘Just passin’ through’.