Read Online The Pursuit of Other Interests: A Novel by Jim Kokoris - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jim Kokoris
Tags: Humor, United States, Literary, Humorous, Literature & Fiction, Family Life, Genre Fiction, American, Contemporary Fiction, Literary Fiction, General Humor, Humor & Satire
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himself—“like this. She thinks I’ve changed, thinks I’m crazy. I don’t think I’ve changed. Well, maybe I have.” He shook his head. “I probably have.”
Rafael studied Charlie with dark, sad eyes. He was holding the doors to the elevator open with one hand and clutching the side of the baggage cart with another.
“Are you sure you don’t have a humidifier?” Charlie asked. “I’ll pay extra for it. This is a big hotel.”
“I will check, sir, but it is late.”
“Well, thanks.” Charlie stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “What’s your name again?” he asked, even though Rafael was wearing a large gold name tag.
“Rafael.”
“I’m Charlie Baker.” Charlie offered his hand, but the doors were shutting.
“Good night, Rafael,” he shouted. “I mean it, good night!”
It took him a while to locate his room. He kept walking in circles, squinting at doors and announcing room numbers aloud: 1645, 1647, 1649. When he found 1624, he fumbled with the key card for such a long time that he considered lying on the floor and sleeping outside his door. Once he finally made it inside, he took a hot shower, put on a white terry-cloth hotel bathrobe, and sat on the bed and watched TV. He must have briefly dozed off, because the next thing he knew there was a knock on the door. He shuffled across the room, opened it, and found Rafael ceremoniously holding a silver tray with a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a can of shaving cream, and a shiny stainless steel pot of coffee.
“I’m sorry, I no find a humidor. They are all in use,” he said. Then he said, “May I, please?”
Charlie looked at him, not sure, at first, who he was. “Oh, sure, sure,” he finally said. He stepped aside to let him pass. Rafael walked briskly across the room and placed the tray on a table by the window. He was an older man with a graying mustache and had a hushed dignity about him that Charlie instinctively respected and appreciated.
“Hold on. Let me get my wallet.” Charlie headed over to the chair where he had tossed his pants.
“No, sir. It is fine, sir.” Rafael started toward the door.
“No, wait.” Charlie retrieved his wallet and fumbled for some cash. He wanted to give him a big tip. Rafael, he realized, was the best friend he had ever had.
“Here you go.” He held out three twenties.
“Oh, no, sir, too much.”
“Please, please.” Charlie thrust the bills closer to him. “Money means nothing to me. It means nothing. It can’t buy you love, can it? No, not love. Here.” He pinned the money against Rafael’s chest with his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” Rafael said. He took the money and folded up the bills. Then he considered Charlie with his deep-set eyes before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a business card and handing it to him.
“It’s the number. For a service,” he said. “The woman escort.” He looked embarrassed.
Charlie accepted the card, confused. “What? Oh, no, no, I don’t want it. Thanks, though. I said I was kidding about that.” Charlie handed the card back to him. “I’ll just watch a porno movie, maybe.”
Rafael nodded and put the card back into his pocket. Charlie gazed at him through blurry eyes. “You want some coffee?” he asked. He walked over to the table.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Want to shave?” Charlie held up the can of shaving cream and read the label. “It’s extra foamy.”
“No, thank you.” Rafael appeared to be very uncomfortable. He glanced down at the folded-up bills, then held the money back out to Charlie. “You keep. You keep the money.” When he said this, Charlie started to cry a little.
“No, no, no. Please, you keep it, though that’s very nice of you,” Charlie said. He quickly wiped away a tear. “See, that’s the difference between people like me and people like you, Rafael. See, I would never do something nice like that, never. I’m not a nice person. I’m only nice to
Rafael studied Charlie with dark, sad eyes. He was holding the doors to the elevator open with one hand and clutching the side of the baggage cart with another.
“Are you sure you don’t have a humidifier?” Charlie asked. “I’ll pay extra for it. This is a big hotel.”
“I will check, sir, but it is late.”
“Well, thanks.” Charlie stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “What’s your name again?” he asked, even though Rafael was wearing a large gold name tag.
“Rafael.”
“I’m Charlie Baker.” Charlie offered his hand, but the doors were shutting.
“Good night, Rafael,” he shouted. “I mean it, good night!”
It took him a while to locate his room. He kept walking in circles, squinting at doors and announcing room numbers aloud: 1645, 1647, 1649. When he found 1624, he fumbled with the key card for such a long time that he considered lying on the floor and sleeping outside his door. Once he finally made it inside, he took a hot shower, put on a white terry-cloth hotel bathrobe, and sat on the bed and watched TV. He must have briefly dozed off, because the next thing he knew there was a knock on the door. He shuffled across the room, opened it, and found Rafael ceremoniously holding a silver tray with a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a can of shaving cream, and a shiny stainless steel pot of coffee.
“I’m sorry, I no find a humidor. They are all in use,” he said. Then he said, “May I, please?”
Charlie looked at him, not sure, at first, who he was. “Oh, sure, sure,” he finally said. He stepped aside to let him pass. Rafael walked briskly across the room and placed the tray on a table by the window. He was an older man with a graying mustache and had a hushed dignity about him that Charlie instinctively respected and appreciated.
“Hold on. Let me get my wallet.” Charlie headed over to the chair where he had tossed his pants.
“No, sir. It is fine, sir.” Rafael started toward the door.
“No, wait.” Charlie retrieved his wallet and fumbled for some cash. He wanted to give him a big tip. Rafael, he realized, was the best friend he had ever had.
“Here you go.” He held out three twenties.
“Oh, no, sir, too much.”
“Please, please.” Charlie thrust the bills closer to him. “Money means nothing to me. It means nothing. It can’t buy you love, can it? No, not love. Here.” He pinned the money against Rafael’s chest with his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” Rafael said. He took the money and folded up the bills. Then he considered Charlie with his deep-set eyes before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a business card and handing it to him.
“It’s the number. For a service,” he said. “The woman escort.” He looked embarrassed.
Charlie accepted the card, confused. “What? Oh, no, no, I don’t want it. Thanks, though. I said I was kidding about that.” Charlie handed the card back to him. “I’ll just watch a porno movie, maybe.”
Rafael nodded and put the card back into his pocket. Charlie gazed at him through blurry eyes. “You want some coffee?” he asked. He walked over to the table.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Want to shave?” Charlie held up the can of shaving cream and read the label. “It’s extra foamy.”
“No, thank you.” Rafael appeared to be very uncomfortable. He glanced down at the folded-up bills, then held the money back out to Charlie. “You keep. You keep the money.” When he said this, Charlie started to cry a little.
“No, no, no. Please, you keep it, though that’s very nice of you,” Charlie said. He quickly wiped away a tear. “See, that’s the difference between people like me and people like you, Rafael. See, I would never do something nice like that, never. I’m not a nice person. I’m only nice to
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