BAILEYS BLINDS

The butterfly room.

The innkeeper greeted us at the porch as we put our slippers back on. “What did you guys have?” he said.
“Just some noodles from a shop in town."
“I think I know which place you’re talking about. I've been there before, it's popular around here.”
He handed us our keys. A woman came out from a room in the rear and I guessed that was his wife. They probably ran the hostel together, just the two of them.

I felt envious. It would not be too bad if someday, if we could live like this. Get older together, earn a little capital, buy some property on the coast, cafe or hostel, and make it our sanctuary. Another small fantasy for someday.

I paid attention to the steps and walls as I took her carry-on up the stairs. The door to our room had a mini whiteboard on the front. It came with sticky notes in the shape of butterflies. There were many of them and all in Chinese. Outside in the hall, was a water boiler, tea bags, instant coffee, plastic straws, and a mini refrigerator. “We should make some later if we’re going to edit those articles,” I said.

The room was larger than how it appeared in the photos online. Just like in the photos though, the curtains cast a warm glow over all the surfaces. There was a large wooden bed frame with four pillars that reached within inches of the ceiling. The top was covered by a transparent lavender canopy. On the opposite wall, a large flat screen TV hung underneath an air conditioning unit. I turned air conditioner on and and laid down. A light incense aroma began to swirl.
“I feel like a princess in here,” she said.

She set her bag on the coffee table and took out a Capri.

I looked at the hazy shower glass a few feet away from the bed. It was the only separation between the bathroom and the rest of the room. The glass served as a wall and was plainly visible.

Not quite ready to sleep yet, I tucked our luggage into the closet. It was able to fit everything. “Take a nap then. It’s only six,” I turned off the lights.


We were growing accustomed to our pace. It was a process that evolved with each day. Even when walking together, there were times I still felt her remoteness. Most of the time, it was when we were quiet. I kept these anxieties to myself and didn't mention them, as she didn't mention hers. She was the type of person to keep everything until a boil.

Her silhouette was on the other-side of the shower glass. Her shadow crept up the floor and onto the far-side of the bed as I watched her wash her hair.

I feel asleep until I felt the sheets pull away from me.
“Did we shower this morning?” I said.
“I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”
“I left my shaving razor there I think. I’ll have to buy some later on our way out.”
“I don’t mind it. I like it like this.”
“Isn’t it annoying though. I mean does it tickle?”
“At first, but it’s softer now.”
I slid my arm underneath the pillows and felt the dampness her hair against mine. Smelled some lotion. I closed my eyes again and listened to the air conditioner hum. When it stopped, we were existed in an absolute stillness for a few seconds before it let out a quiet hiss. The light continued dimming.

When I woke up, the street lights had come on. My arm was numb and I tried to move it out from underneath her pillow without disturbing her. In the year that I was alone, I had forgotten the proper way to place it. So now I couldn't feel it. I sat on the bed and massaged my bicep.

Her chest moved in a slow rhythm. Small details; I hadn’t noticed it while we were in Taipei. Maybe I did and it was that I hadn’t paid attention. I still had my coughs, most of them in the morning, but the fever was gone. Maybe it wasn’t a fever and just nervousness. Sick in a different way. She was no longer some shallow breath in the middle of the night on a phone receiver.
“What are you thinking?”
I placed her hand on my forehead.

Our room overlooked the adjacent parking lot and I could see all the way down the street. A blue Subaru made its way towards the hostel. I tracked it as it parked in the lot. I had opened the curtains enough so that I could have a look outside.

“What time is it?” She was laying on her side now but still had her eyes closed. Her hand moved into the vacant space on the bed.
I pulled the sides of the curtains back together. “It’s almost eight.”
“Not sleeping?”
“I woke up to turn off the air conditioner. Feeling better?”
“Still sleepy.”
“Sorry if I woke you up.”
“I was dreaming just now.”
“About?”

She turned over onto her opposite shoulder when I got back in. Her back faced me and her hair was tangled into a nest on one side. I smoothed it out until her sentences trailed and I couldn’t tell if her scenes she was describing were beginning or ending.

Here's where we slept. It's a wooden framed double bed with slats and a futon mattress. The canopy hangs from the top of the two tent poles.