Late Night Return

It was half past twelve. The family rumbled back in, tracking dirt and bits of leaves and twigs throughout the hallways. I'm not sure they noticed. I would have to clean this before my wife spotted the mess. If not, I would certainly hear about for at least 3 days, maybe more.

I was just wrapping up the details for breakfast the next morning when I overheard the sister. "You're in this just as deep as I am. I can just as easily hang you out to dry as I can come back year next year." The sounds grew muffled and I heard no more.

Breakfast came as it does every morning. It was a particularly good one this morning. Each plate looked like a photo from one of those food magazines you see at the doctors office. Really, it looked good enough to eat. So there I was, doing my thing, serving each guest. There was a lot of talk going on at the breakfast table, about nothing it seemed. When I set the plate of breakfast in front of the Grandfather, he looked straight at me and said with perfect clarity. "Thank you so much for this, it looks just wonderfully" I nearly fell on the floor. A man who seemed to have lost reality, now was as coherent as I. How could the man who was guided around the Inn, like he was in a fog, not uttering a word, suddenly seem so rational and awake.

It was at that moment I knew that what I saw was only a facade. An act, on each person who sat in the dining room. An act designed to show the world that everything was as it seemed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a family getting together to visit and catch up. Once a year. For three hours. Driving in from all over the country. For a cookout. Two days on the road for a three hour hot dog and coke.

But I knew different. I could guess, but I would have to investigate to discover the truth. My guess is the family committed a horrible act. Last year, two years ago or several. They were returning to re-commit themselves to silence. The were reaffirming a bond of fear that kept each person in a dark quiet place. A bond that was so strong that the Husband could only bury himself in the tv, not really aware but pretending nothing else mattered. A bond or fear so strong that the grandfather was willing to spend every day faking some sort of mental illness, just to avoid the truth. When I looked into his eyes I knew the truth.

The wife of the dad and mother of the son knew the truth too. Maybe she didn't leave as he told me. Maybe this was part of an act designed to reaffirm the story which took years to fabricate. The only reminder of the truth was this yearly cookout in the mountains of Maine.

The was only one answer to the question. What could be that horrific, that a family would go to this much trouble to keep it a secret. It had to be murder. Nothing else would be worth this much. Nothing else would send an old man into shock. Nothing else would send people into some sort of mental hiding place. Nothing else would bring this many people to the mountains of Maine for three hours.

Nothing.

The locals from Away

Just as they came, they disappeared into the night. The rain beat down on a dark parking lot with only two familiar cars parked. I sat for a long time thinking about the strange occurrences that had happened that afternoon. It would be a while before the family would return so I had the luxury of puzzling in quiet for a few hours.

As with every guest, I try to steal a few moments to sit and talk. Ask some innocent questions. Or at least they may seem to be innocent. The single dad with his wired son. He was unsure of his address at check in. I recall him trying very hard to remember which one to to use. "Don't worry about it" I said, "Happens all the time". I could hear the satire echo in my mind. Who doesn't remember where they came from that morning........

At last, in the upper dining room, over a big black cup of coffee, dad started to relax. With each sip of coffee he talked more. Until a picture began to emerge. One for the story books. "My wife left us last month" He said. "She had the job, insurance, checkbook and took care of all the bills" "ooooh" I replied not sure if I wanted to open up this chapter. But....after all what else have I to do.

"Left huh" I said. Using a perfect mirroring technique to not really ask questions but to urge him to continue.

"Yes, she took care of everything. But left us with nothing. We had to move out and find an apartment. I only had enough money for one month rent. When I get back I will have to find some work" a long pause " I don't know" He said straight into the bottom of his coffee.

"More?" I said, refilling his cup. "I wonder who's paying for this room" I thought to myself.

"I can barely take him anymore. I apologize if he gets out of line." he said

"Hey, I got kids too, I know what they can do."

"No..... You don't." " If I give him his medication to early than we can't go out tonight, if I give it to him to late, than I won't be able to go to sleep tonight."

"Wow, I said, that's gotta be tough"

The dad shook his head. I felt for him, really I did. But this story just added to my confusion of the family and their history. Now we add a beaten dad, left with an over medicated son, no place to go, one month rent money and the best thing is to spend a chunk of his rent money on a room in my Inn. Good thing I had the sisters credit card. I was guessing at this point that she might pick up the tab. It turned out later that I was right.

I was going to have to find out more about this family. The quiet grandpa, stilled with an unknown trauma, the domineering sister who control's everything even the conversion, the sports fan husband who knew nothing of sports and the dad caught up more tragic events than bad romance novel. All traveling across the country for a one night cookout and returning home the next day.

I had made up my mind that I would wait up for them to return and see how there cookout went. A cookout indeed. Hidden away in the western Maine mountains was more than a charcoal fire and a couple of wieners.


When I return, a twist, they have returned to the Inn and I of course was listening.