1. GOING

People came here to disappear. Or so it's been said. Marc walked into the encroaching shadows, beyond the unlit fireplace with the marble mantel, past two chairs of polished black walnut facing each other like damask upholstered sentries before the French doors that opened out to the vast inner courtyard - the heart of this old house. Or rather, this old hotel. There, he observed what light remained of the day steadily climbing up the walls of exposed brick and beyond them the sky slowly turning from a warm orange to somber indigo. He lowered his gaze at the rows and rows of potted plants and flowers surrounding the fountain gurgling water from a pitcher held by a stained cherub. Then he looked back up to the upper floors of the hotel, briefly wondering about the occupants of those rooms. He proceeded into the courtyard, his pace echoing loudly on the cobblestones.

Marc was glad he had chosen to stay at this hotel, although it was a bit of a walk from the Quarter’s more frequently trodden thoroughfares. Few visitors ever took the time to get to know New Orleans beyond Bourbon Street and all its attendant tourist diversions. And this place was precisely the kind of hidden treasure that characterized the city more accurately than people tossing plastic beads at drunken exhibitionists. Stretching out from the river’s edge was a veritable maze of streets and side entrances into lush gardens and buildings within buildings, which the natives had been selfishly keeping to themselves since the days the French and Spaniards were haphazardly exchanging deeds.

So when Marc first heard the warning that people came here to disappear, he knew this was where he wanted to stay. It was pure luck that he had gotten a room at all since he had also been told that this was never meant to have been a hotel for transients. Most of the rooms were occupied by permanent residents with only a handful of openings that came up on occasion. That his room turned out to be well appointed was a delightful surprise with its cast iron, latticed balcony looking down upon what once had been the grand promenade of Creole New Orleans. But it made him all the more curious about the other guests. There had to be over twenty rooms in the property. Who were these people? He had been here for two days and he had yet to see anyone else besides the attractive guy at the front desk.

And he was leaving tomorrow. His assignment was finished. He really didn’t have any other reason to stay, except…except there was Josh. He was still waiting to hear back from him. Of course, there was always the possibility, more a likelihood really, that he wouldn’t hear from him at all. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to the day they met some four years ago. It was his senior year at college and he was in the university quad to meet a friend when someone came up from behind. "Well, it's about time you got here," Marc blurted before turning around to find a stranger standing there, apologizing for bumping into him. And just like that Marc felt his stomach sink and his heart descend into the depths of the most perfect pair of blue eyes. He still found it disturbing that those were the very first words he had ever said to Josh. Because it later dawned on Marc that he had, in fact, always been waiting for Josh. Years later, he