Chapter 05
There’s a Pool on the Roof!
“Mom, Dad just got into a taxi.”
“Yes, Jane, he said he needed to go back to Fort Clayton.”
“He’s not coming up to the room with us?”
“His things have been here for days. We need to get settled in.”
“Miss, your man asked me to show you up to your room.
I am the hotel manager.
Get your bags, please.
The elevator is over here.”
“Patrick, can you take my hand? Daddy said I might need your help.”
“Can I push the buttons?”
“No, they have someone in the elevator here that does that, son.”
“Oh, well I can carry my own bag?”
“Yes, you can.”
Looking at the Hotel Manager, Patrick said, “I’m eight.”
“Miss, this way please.
Keep the children back away from the doors as they shut.
All bags in. Floor eight.”
He directed the last line to the elevator operator.
“I’m eleven.” Jane chimed in as the doors closed.
The manager did not acknowledge either child.
“Do not ever sit your bags down unattended.”
“A bumpy ride, isn’t it?” I commented.
“Not as bad as some,” said the manager.
As the elevator came to a stop with a thump, the doors parted quickly.
“Okay, all off, bags, children, then you.
Your rooms are this way.”
“Rooms?”
“Yes, the military has supplied two rooms in a suite for you and your family while you stay here.
There will be only one key to this door.
Your husband has second key.
If you need to get in, don’t ask the maid, find me.
This way.”
As we entered, the manager crossed to unlock the adjoining children’s door.
“Lock works on this side. Children cannot lock you out.”
“Two kitchens?” I asked, feeling this was a bit excessive.
“Sí, dos. If you cook, leave the dishes.
It is best if you use both kitchens.
If it is not dirty, the maids do not get paid.”
“Excuse me, could you speak more slowly?
It sounded like you said the maids don’t get paid if the dishes aren’t in the sink?”
“Yes. But I speak more slowly for you.
Keep the children away from the windows.”
“Jane, come here.”
“I was just moving the curtains.
Mom, there are bullet holes in the window.”
Before the sentence was out of Jane’s mouth, the manager, Rafael—according to his shiny nameplate—spoke.
“Those are nothing. Keep the curtain closed.
The rain falls straight here in Panama, it’s no problem.
Fire truck ladders go up to floor eight.
There is a restaurant on the roof. It is best if you eat there.
There is a pool on the roof.
When you must leave, do not call a taxi. We call.
Casa del Sol is safe for you.
Do not trust the street.
Do not trust children.
Crafty; learn from bad adults.
You have no questions, I leave.”
Bullet holes?
Closed curtains?
Not paying maids?
“No questions.”
He nodded his head and left the room.
The kids shouted whoops of joy.
“A pool on the roof!” they said simultaneously.
“Your dad won’t be home for a while. You have suits in my case.”
The kids dove across the beds, jumping over their father’s luggage and landing on top of mine.
I retreated to the bathroom.
I closed the door.
It was the first time I understood.
We had arrived in Panama.
I was on my own.
Daniel's Den 