Xenos by David A. Ross

Author:David A. Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / General, TRAVEL / Europe / Greece, FICTION / Romance / General
Publisher: Open Books
Published: 2010-08-06T00:00:00+00:00

AT VERONA the usual commotion of a European train station was absent, for only one train had arrived all evening. Apparently the strike was nationwide. No information window was open. Alone outside the station, Doran must have appeared bewildered, as a woman standing no higher than his chest approached him, asking, “Centro? Centro?”

“Si, hotel.” he answered.

She waved for him to follow her.

Walking beside this kindhearted stranger, progress was slow, but eventually she guided him to the Corso Porta Nuova, a wide and busy thoroughfare that led through the medieval archway of the Complesso Monumentale di Piazza Bra.

“Gracie, Signora,” he said. She lowered her eyes and acknowledged him with a weak smile before moving off.

Even at this hour there was plenty of activity on the piazza. The numerous outdoor cafés along the Liston were busy serving food and drinks, while boys played a spirited game of football near the central fountain in front of a pillared municipal building. Lovers strolled and talked intimately near the old city ramparts, and groups of men congregated to argue and smoke.

Doran located Albergo Bra and rang the bell. A voice answered in Italian over the intercom. How could he make himself understood?

“Do you speak English?” he implored.

“Leetle beet” came the response.

“Do you have a room free?”

“Nothing in life is free. How many nights?” The voice sounded almost accusatory, not at all friendly.

“Considering the train strike, probably several nights,” Doran said.

Apparently he had given the proper reply. He heard the electric latch unbolt, granting him entrance into the building. “Take the lift. Piano secondo, prego!” said the voice on the intercom.

The foyer was dark and unattractive, and the elevator was something he might have expected to find in a warehouse. He had to manually operate the steel lattice doors, and when he pushed the button, the car lurched into motion with an alarming jolt. As if the machine carried some time-honored grudge, the pulleys and cables creaked and groaned in protest all the way up to the second floor.

The elevator doors opened onto a small but surprisingly attractive lobby. Polished marble floors gleamed, while ornate mahogany furniture warmed the overall effect. A rotund man with a shaved head and eyes that seemed to bulge behind thick glasses greeted Doran vociferously as he stepped off the elevator.

“Ah, you are American!” he exclaimed. “Welcome! Albergo Bra is the home of many Americans while they visit Verona.”

“Thank you,” said Doran. “I realize I’m arriving late. I hope it’s not a problem.”

“No problem at all,” the man shrugged. His garrulous attitude seemed to have softened markedly with the determination of Doran’s nationality. “Due to the train strike we have a rare vacancy,” he informed.

“Yes, the strike,” said Doran. “I was on my way to Rome. That proved to be impossible. I took the only train leaving Milan, and here I am.”

“Life is full of detours,” the host offered.

“I suppose,” Doran said half-heartedly.

“I am the night clerk at this hotel―a respectable position, no doubt,” the host rambled as he showed Doran to his room.

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