The Books in our Nightstand

Truthfully, I only existed in two places for the majority of my young life. The first was a company-owned 2006 Chevrolet Impala. It was an awful tan color, and had more miles on it than my manager’s net worth. I had put on seven or eight thousand of them in my short time as a sales representative. We were a company no one had heard of, selling blue-light glasses which I’m quite sure didn’t work.

It was the type of job that when people asked what I did for a living, I would shamefully tell them, and they would then respond with something like “oh cool,” before quickly changing subjects.

The second place was a hotel room, any hotel room really. Some were of higher quality, others might as well have been condemned. I mean condemned in both senses of the word. Both unfit for use, and condemned in the doomed sense. But regardless of the quality, each and every room shared a distinct similarity. Each room came with a Holy Bible seated in the drawer of its nightstand.

I had a check-in routine. First, I would toss my suitcase on the bed to assess whether I would sleep well or not. If the suitcase didn’t bounce, it meant the bed was too soft and I would probably get between four and six hours of sleep. If it did bounce however, it meant the bed was plenty firm and I would get a solid eight. But the second thing I would do is check for the Holy Bible in the nightstand drawer. It was always there, crimson-red with gold writing, virtually untouched. I was always quite sure there was something more helpful that could be placed in those nightstands. A first-aid kit perhaps, or a box of tissues, or even a little book of interesting things to do in whatever area the hotel resided in. Perhaps placing nothing in them at all would be better altogether, leaving all of the space in the drawer for the guest.

There was one stay in particular though, in which there was something different in the drawer. I checked in with the company’s credit card and found my room, an easy task given it was only a two-story building. The room was neither high quality nor condemned, just how I preferred it actually. I hurled my suitcase onto the bed and it bounced a good bit, so I knew I would sleep well. Then I strolled up to the nightstand and yanked open the drawer. No Bible. Instead, I found a small black notebook. It was leather-bound, and the room filled with a rich leathery smell, as if I had opened the front door to a wealthy cowboy’s mansion.

Is it another form of Bible? I wondered. Is it a journal of sorts which someone had left behind?

I knew very well that no one should read the personal writings of another. So I closed the drawer and let it be for a good while, attempting to simply forget about it.

I grabbed a shower and caught the ending of Back to the Future Part II. Then slid into the covers and tried to get comfortable. But my mind was engrossed with the small black notebook. It was almost as if it was whispering to me from inside the drawer.

“Hey you,” I imagined its voice, “stop being a coward and read me.”

Now I had begun convincing myself to give it a read. No one would know, I realized. I could put it back exactly as I had found it.

So I threw down the bed-covers and yanked open the drawer again, then took a mental picture of exactly how the notebook was seated within the drawer, and scooped it up. A pretty good weight, I noticed immediately. I examined the leather binding, making sure to remember just how each strap was oriented as well.

I pulled one of them back, and then the other. I felt like a child opening his final gift on a holiday, it could be a wonderful discovery or a disappointing one.

But as I slowly peeled open the cover, the pages were neither wonderful nor disappointing, they were something entirely different. The notebook was gutted. The previous owner had taken a knife of sorts to it, slicing away a rectangular space in the width of the pages. There was no name, or any writing whatsoever. But what was far stranger still, was that within the rectangular space there laid a stack of one hundred dollar bills. I had never seen so much cash in one place. It was like a scene straight out of a heist movie, I thought. I dumped the cash out on the bed and began counting it, and after having to restart twice, I determined that I was sitting before twenty thousand dollars!

Finding ten dollars is always fun, I thought, and finding one hundred dollars would make anyone’s day. But finding twenty thousand dollars could drastically change a person’s life. What was I to do with a strange notebook and a small fortune? I wondered. I certainly couldn’t just leave it behind for the next person to work out. But how could I just walk away with it? Even with commission and mileage reimbursements, twenty thousand was nearly my annual salary.

I replaced the cash in the notebook and returned it to the drawer just as I’d found it. The only thing I could think of in that moment was to ensure that this was in fact a strange discovery, and not some sort of hoax.

I grabbed the phone just above where I’d found the notebook and dialed the front desk.

A woman’s voice sluggishly answered, “front desk…can I help you?”

“Uh, yes,” I stammered, “what is your policy on providing Bibles in the rooms?”

“A Bible is provided in each room,” she replied. “We can have it taken away if you’d like?”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, then hung up abruptly. I wasn’t ready to admit to the money I’d discovered as the hotel would surely seize it.

I decided to consult another guest. So I crept into the hallway and gently knocked on the door across from mine.

After a moment I could see the light in the peep-hole change, and then heard an angry voice from behind it, “what do you want?” it bellowed.

I cleared my throat. “Um…I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask you something about your room?”

The voice didn’t respond right away, and I realized my question was quite odd.

“Are you drunk?” it asked.

“No, no…” I replied. “I was just-”

“-get away from my door…”

I heeded him. Then went across to the door beside mine and gave it a knock. After a moment there were gentle footsteps behind it, and then the sounds of a locking mechanism being released. It opened, and a young woman crept her head into the small space between the door and the frame, she had left the door chain on.

“Yes?” she asked skeptically.

“I’m sorry,” I began again, “I was wondering if you might be able to tell me if you have a Bible in your room?”

I could see her enough to witness her eyebrows cock up.

“You’re asking if I have a Bible?” she replied as if I was the strangest person she’d ever encountered. Perhaps I was.

“Didn’t the hotel provide you with one?” I continued.

“Well I haven’t checked,” she admitted.

“Would you be willing to?” I asked.

She began to close the door slowly. “I don’t think so…”

“Please-” I begged, but the door closed tight and she was gone.

I committed to one final door, one final try.

I found a door near the end of the hallway just to switch things up.

I knocked gently, and as the door opened a thick scent poured out from the room. It was the scent of sweat, like when a towel has been used one too many times, mixed with the smell of soup that had been cooked and eaten again and again and again. The room was a bit too warm as well, I noticed. An infant wailed from the back.

A young man peered around the door, terrified of me. I didn’t want to be intrusive but I couldn’t help but notice a number of people over his shoulder. An elderly woman holding the infant, two older adults sitting at the foot of one bed, and a number of children sitting on the foot of the other. They all attended to a girl around my age seated at the table. And I noticed that she was reading from a crimson book with golden writing, a Holy Bible.

She stopped reading when she noticed that I had seen her, and all of the sudden there were nearly a dozen eyes on me. A large Hispanic family, looking as though they had been living in the hotel for some time. The floor was covered in blankets and pillows and the counter in Styrofoam bowls and plates and plastic forks and spoons.

The young man still stared at me, waiting for me to explain myself.

I did my best. “Sorry…” I began nervously, “did you get that Bible from the nightstand?”

He continued to stare at me, and I quickly realized that he had no English whatsoever.

“The Bible,” I pointed at the girl holding it, “is it from the hotel?”

The young man looked back at his family for suggestions, but they had nothing for him, or me.

But finally, someone spoke and rescued me.

“We found it in the nightstand,” said the girl at the table.

I nodded. “Thank you…so sorry to disturb you.”

I strolled back to my room feeling like a complete imbecile. I had embarrassed myself completely, yet hadn’t gotten any closer to deciding what to do with the small black notebook or the cash.

I flicked the television on again, and again tried to simply forget about it. But before I had even selected a channel, there was a knock on my door.

I was horrified. Perhaps the cash was drug money, I thought, and outside of my door was a burly man sent to retrieve it and end me once and for all. Or perhaps one of the people I had so rudely disturbed had rightfully called the front desk, and here was a security guard to kick me out.

But as I quietly peered through the peep-hole, I found the same young girl from the last room. I opened the door to receive her.

“Hello…” I whimpered.

“Good evening,” she replied. I noticed that she had the Bible in her hands still. “Did you want to borrow it?”

“Oh no I didn’t,” I blushed. “I was just trying to figure something out…”

I doubted I could possibly embarrass myself further.

“Oh,” she continued, “well goodnight then…”

She began back down the hallway. But right then I thought of something, or perhaps it was forced into my head.

“Wait,” I yelled through a whisper. She halted in the hallway and turned back to me. “Just hold on…”

I bolted back into my room and retrieved the small black notebook from the nightstand, then returned to her. She was even more confused than the first time we’d seen each other. I handed it to her and she took it nervously.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Another book you and your family should have…”

“Thanks,” she exclaimed, tucking it in with the Bible somewhat awkwardly.

She returned to her room. I returned to mine, and a comfort swam over me at last.

…

I stayed in a hundred more hotel rooms and drove ten thousand more miles, yet I never once failed to check each and every nightstand, and never once did I miss that twenty thousand dollars.