In Laymon's Terms

Ronald stepped out of the wobbly elevator, glad to be off it. It was awful quiet as he walked down a long corridor: a simple, very plain hallway—nothing but wood doors and dark painted walls with cheap lamps bolted on. The floor was carpeted, so even his footsteps didn’t make noise; there was just the faint sound of raindrops coming from outside. He got up to room 1313 and put the key into the tarnished brass knob. An eerie feeling overcame him as he did, and the silence was broken.

“I’m lonely,” a voice said. It was very soft, just barely audible, yet Ronald was sure that’s what he heard. And he was pretty sure it was coming from inside the room. Still, he looked back down the hallway to his left. He looked to his right, and there was nothing but the end of the hallway—not even a window. There was a radiator against the wall, hissing softly. Ronald looked behind, and there was no one there, just room number 1312, with the door closed.

“Hello?” Ronald called as he looked around. “It was the radiator.”

The desire to get out of his wet clothes overcame his silly, irrational fear. Ronald turned the key, and he swore he heard noise coming from inside the room: the wheezing of a deep breath.

He flung the door open, and quickly flicked the light switch. The room was empty, and quiet. Ronald dropped his bag and tossed his drenched jacket on a nearby chair. The room was small, but neat. He undressed and dropped his clothes as he walked towards the bathroom. Ronald turned on the shower, all hot water, cranked to the fullest. He took a bathrobe that was hanging from the door, and slipped it on.

Ronald called downstairs and the old man quickly answered, “Hello, son.”

“Yes, can I get some room service please?”

“Sure. Alls we got is burgers or sandwiches.”

“A burger sounds great, and some coffee, please.”

“Sure thing, be up in a jiffy.”

Ronald jumped in the shower, and turned the hot water down, but just a smidge. It felt too good, even though it was scalding him a bit. After a minute he turned the hot water down a little more, and cleaned himself up.

The water was beating down, and that eerie feeling caught him again. Ronald felt lightheaded, and suddenly he was reminded of being a kid, of having no friends to play with, all the kids pointing and laughing at him.

Then, above the sounds of the water, he heard a whisper. “I’m lonely,” it said.

“What?” he said as he quickly cut off the water.

He didn’t hear any voices, but instead heard the clinking of plates on the other side of the bathroom door. He threw on his robe and opened the door. The old man had wheeled in a tray and was setting up his meal on a small table.

“Sorry, hope I didn’t startle you, son. I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I let myself in. Hope you don’t mind.”

Ronald was still a bit woozy, and it felt surreal. He was sure he heard a voice, but it must have been the old man. “No, that’s okay,” he said as he rubbed his eyebrow, “I didn’t expect you to have the food ready so fast. I was just drying off.”

“Well, you’re all set. Burger, fries, and some fresh, hot coffee.”

The aroma of the burger smelled great. “Thank you, it smells delicious.”

“If you need anything else, son, just give me a holler.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.”

The old man let himself out, and closed the door. Ronald went back to the bathroom, dried himself off, then sat down and enjoyed the burger and coffee.

Now that he was warm, dry, and well fed, Ronald finally could relax. He looked through his bag for his smokes. Deep down at the bottom was half a pack, crinkled, but dry. He lit a butt, and took a seat down on the bed. Ronald grabbed for the remote control, and as it flipped on the dizziness returned. Awkward adolescence, no friends but lots of pimples flashed through his mind.

“I’m lonely,” he heard.

Ronald blinked, and began breathing heavily. Where the hell was that voice coming from? He hit the mute button on the remote control, and looked around the room. He took a long drag off the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

“This is crazy!” he said, then turned the volume back up on the television. Ronald lay back on the bed, and placed the smoking cigarette in a cheap metal ashtray on the night table.

Ronald flipped around the stations—nothing but crap. He turned to the pay-per-view section and looked at the choices.

“Seen it! Seen it! That one too,” he said aloud. Nothing but shitty Mel Gibson and Kevin Costner movies to choose from.

“There must be something worth watching.” At the bottom were some off-color choices. “Ah, Valeria Eats Meat! That sounds like a winner.”

He clicked on the pay button and a warning came on reading, Movie already in progress. Press pay button to view. Ronald couldn’t care much for the plot, and immediately pressed the pay button.