Visitations, Part 2

Andy sat on the edge of the massive bed, elbows on knees, feeling mentally exhausted yet not tired enough to go to sleep. He groaned, ran a hand through his hair, and stretched out flat on the bed. The sheets were ridiculously smooth, high-thread-count Egyptian or whatever passed for that in magical harem prison.

He wondered if, in her two-dimensional purgatory, Katherine simply counted the hours. He wanted to ask, but the weight of the question—What’s it like to be trapped there, forever exposed?—was far too much, even for this place.

He closed his eyes. The room was silent, save for the electric hum of the air conditioning and the slow tide of wind against the windows. For a few moments, he drifted, not quite asleep, not quite awake. When the buzzer by the elevator startled him, he nearly rolled off the bed.

He sat up, heart jackhammering. The clock still read 20:32. The idea that anyone would visit him at this time, after the day they all had, seemed ridiculous, but then again, the whole premise of the Harem Hotel seemed to be “ridiculous, but real.” He padded over to the elevator panel, glanced at the labels, and pressed the Master: Permit Visitor Access button. The elevator whirred and, within seconds, the doors slid open with a soft chime.

Dawn Moreno stepped into the Suite, her olive-toned face set in a bright but faintly apologetic smile. She wore a big, slouchy cardigan over pajama shorts and an old Chicago Bulls T-shirt, her black hair up in a messy bun. Her feet were ensconced in fuzzy pink slippers. In both hands she carried an obscene, anatomically correct mug shaped like a woman’s torso with enormous, jiggling breasts. Steam curled above the rim.

“Hi, Mr. Cooper,” she said, her voice quick and low, like she was trying not to wake a baby in the next room. “Sorry. I know it’s late. I, uh, I brought you chamomile tea, with some honey. For sleeping. Sorry about the mug, uh, that’s all I could find.” She held out the mug, almost too fast, like she was afraid she’d lose her nerve if she thought about it. Its breasts bounced.

Almost afraid to touch it, Andy took the mug, the warmth surprising in his hands. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “Come in. Please. And call me Andy.”

“Andy.” She said, almost savoring the name. She gave him a bright smile. “You must call me Dawn, then.” Dawn stepped further in, scanning the Suite with a concierge’s trained eye. She spotted the discarded dinner tray, the bed sheets now twisted into a nest. “Nice room,” she said, in the tone of someone who’d already memorized every inch. She perched on the edge of the red velvet couch, tucking one leg up under herself, while the other one dangled, slippered toes touching the floor.

Andy sat across from her, mug in hand. “You’re the first guest to visit,” he said, which felt both flattering and pitiful.

Dawn ducked her head, grinning. “The compulsion, you know. It gets… insistent.” She hugged the folder tighter. “I didn’t want to bother you. But when I started thinking about you alone up here, I couldn’t relax.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’ll go if you want.”

He shook his head, sitting a little straighter. “No, I appreciate it. Honestly. The place is too quiet.”

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing by degrees. “Good. I didn’t want to, um, make you uncomfortable.” She looked up at the painting, her eyes going wide for a second. “That’s… interesting decor.”

Andy followed her gaze. Katherine was, as ever, front and center, the lights in the room catching the sheen of her painted skin. For a moment, her expression seemed to flicker—approving, maybe, or just amused at the audience. She stood still, the way she did when Arabella had shown her to him. Andy realized Katherine didn’t want Dawn to know she was alive.

“It came with the Suite.” If Katherine didn’t want to reveal her real nature, he would keep her secret.

Dawn squinted, then blinked twice. “Wow. She’s really…” She gestured, trying to capture the anatomical extremity in a single hand motion, then gave up. “That’s… something.”

Andy snorted. “Yeah. It’s a lot.”

A moment passed. Dawn shifted, pulling her feet up under her, and balanced the folder on her knees. “Can I ask you something, Andy?”

“Sure.”

She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “Did you ever… notice me? When you’d come to the hotel, I mean. Back home.”

Andy sipped the tea, which was hot but pleasant. He considered the question, then nodded with a faint smile. “Yeah. Of course I did. You were always the one who could solve things when nobody else could. Like the time I lost my phone and you found it in the vending machine, or the Bulls tickets, or... ”

“The reservation at Chez Bernard,” she said, giggling. “I remember. You looked so surprised.”

“You told me it was booked out for months,” Andy said with a grin. “But you made it happen. You even picked the best table!”

She blushed, looking down. “I had to bribe the hostess with homemade cookies. It was the only way.” She covered her face for a second, then let her hands fall. “I always wanted to ask if you’d, I don’t know, hang out sometime. But I didn’t think you’d want to.”

Andy shrugged, feeling something loosen in his chest. “I would have liked to. I’m… bad at noticing what’s in front of me. As some of the other women today have made abundantly clear.”

They both smiled, and for a moment, Andy could almost pretend they were just two people, alone in a hotel suite, talking about missed chances and stolen cookies. But there was an elephant in the room, and they both knew it. So Andy asked, “How are you holding up? With your transformation?”

Dawn’s fingers fidgeted with velvet, then she clasped her hands in her lap. She sat forward, so their knees nearly touched. “This compulsion thing,” she said, voice soft. “It’s not as bad as I thought. I mean, it’s annoying, but it’s mostly just… making me want to help you.” She looked at him, eyes dark and open. “But it gets… stronger, when I’m with you. I want to do whatever I can to make you happy. It’s like… my head fills up with little ways to serve you.”

Andy flushed, unsure how to respond. “That sounds kind of... ”

“Creepy?” she offered, with a self-deprecating grin. “Yeah. It’s weird. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. I think I can keep it at bay, for the most part. Most of the time, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She looked at him, her gaze unblinking. “Like, right now. I can tell you’re exhausted. Is it the bed? The noise? Or is it… all of this?”

He thought about lying, but the truth spilled out with a sigh. “It’s the guilt. All the transformations. What happened to everyone today.”

Dawn nodded, as if she’d expected that. “You can’t help what they do to us. It’s not your fault. But if you want to help, you could start by letting us in.” She smiled, a little shyly. “I mean, not just physically. You can talk to us. We’re not monsters.”

Andy sipped the tea. “I’m trying to give you space. Some of you probably think I am a monster.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “No one thinks that. Well, maybe Norah, but she thinks everyone is a monster. She scares me a little bit. Erin too, a little, but she kind of needs you now, doesn’t she?” She reached out, almost without thinking, and squeezed his hand. “Either way, you’re the only reason some of us aren’t already falling apart.”

The contact startled him, but it was warm, grounding. He squeezed back, feeling a little less alone.

Dawn laughed, soft and nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m being really weird. It’s been a weird day. Or maybe it’s just me.”

He smiled. “You’re fine.”

She let go of his hand, only to scoot closer. “Can I be honest?” she asked.

He nodded.

She looked down, then up, and her voice went even softer. “If you wanted, I could… help you relax. I mean, really relax. I want to. It would make me happy to make you happy.” Her face flared red, but she didn’t look away. “It would be a favor. Or a gift. However you want to think of it.”

Andy’s face burned. He felt a wild urge to say yes, to forget the rules and let her erase the day with her body. But then he remembered her words: the compulsion, the urge to serve. Was it her, or the transformation? Did it matter?

He set the mug down, careful not to spill. “Dawn, I think you’re great,” he said, the words a little thick in his throat. “But I can’t be sure this is really you. Not yet. Maybe it’s the magic, or the rules, or whatever.” He shrugged. “Arabella said it... will settle down, in a few days. So... I’d feel better if we just… talked. For now.”

She looked at him, searching his face for any hint of rejection. For a second, Andy thought she’d get angry, or hurt, or storm off. Instead, she sagged in relief, the tension in her shoulders dissolving.

"I'm so relieved you said that," she whispered, her breath trembling. "I felt like I was losing my mind, unable to control myself. I think... it's partly the compulsion, you know. Not all of it, but part. You are very cute. But you made it okay." She wiped her eyes, then chuckled, a bit embarrassed.

He reached out, this time intentionally, and squeezed her hand. Cute? “You can always come up here, if you need to talk. Or bring me tea. Or just… hang out.”

She smiled, wide and genuine. “Thank you, Andy.” She squeezed back, then stood, picking up her folder. “I should go. The compulsion is already nagging at me to make your bed to make sure you’re comfortable.”

He stood, walked her to the elevator. Before the doors opened, she turned to him. “I know this is weird. But I really do want to help. And I want to be your friend, at least to start with.” She blushed.

He grinned. “You already are helping. And I would like that.”

The elevator opened. Dawn hesitated, then leaned in and gave him a quick, fierce hug, barely reaching his ribs. “Good night,” she said, and then she was gone.

Andy stood there, blinking at the empty elevator, then turned to see Katherine watching from her painting, her face now subtly approving. She lifted her painted hand and made a gesture, two fingers pressed to her lips, then flicked out in his direction: a kiss, or maybe a salute. He laughed, the sound echoing in the lonely Suite. “You’re a good judge of character,” he told her. She just shrugged.