It was just before midnight when Lewis began to search his hotel suite for the basketball. He was sure he’d brought it with him. He remembered picking it up from the pavement of the basketball court. He remembered dribbling it along Broadway Avenue and up the steps of the Fort Garry Hotel. He remembered tucking it under his arm to carry it across the lobby. He was sure he’d bounced it against the wall of the elevator, accidentally requesting floors seven, eight and eleven. But now he couldn’t find it anywhere. He searched the bathroom, the living room, under the bed and behind the television. But he couldn’t remember what he’d done with it.
At midnight, Lewis undressed, climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. At 12:17, he turned the clock to face the wall. He fluffed his pillow. He turned on his side and curled up into a little ball. Still he could not stop thinking about the basketball.
Shortly after two o’clock, Lewis got up, dressed and left the Vice-Regal Suite. He walked the length of the hallway. He did not find his basketball. He walked up and down every hallway on his floor, but still, no basketball. He pressed the down button for the elevator and waited. When the right-hand one arrived, Lewis let it leave without him. He pressed the down button again. When the left-one one arrived, he got in, as this was the one he’d come up in, but there was no basketball inside it.
Lewis went down. The doors opened in the lobby. He walked to the front desk. He was glad that the clerk named Beth was working and that she was alone.
“Good evening,” Beth said.
“Do you have a lost and found?”
“We do.”
“Do you have a basketball in it?”
“I’ll have to check,” she said, but she did not move. She seemed to be waiting for some sign from Lewis.
“I’ll wait,” Lewis said. Looking over her shoulder, Beth went through the door behind the desk. Lewis waited. He was the only one in the lobby. There were no guests. No concierge. Lewis was alone in a room designed to hold hundreds, and for a moment he became frightened that, with no one watching him, he might begin to disappear forever. Then he heard Beth come through the door and return to her station behind the desk.
“Sorry. No basketball. No sports equipment of any kind.”
“Oh,” Lewis said. This saddened him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just fine. Really fine. I just can’t seem to find my basketball.”
Lewis turned towards the elevator and did not see that the look of concern remained on Beth’s face. He did not look back while he waited for the elevator. He rode it directly to his floor. He went straight to his room, unlocked the door with his pass card and was surprised to find his wife standing just to the left of the bed. She was full-sized, but transparent.
“Quickly,” she told him. “I can’t hold this for long.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’re so messed up right now.”
“I know.”
“You have to deal with it.”
“You want me to grieve faster?”
“Lewis, you haven’t even started.”
Lewis stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His wife had already begun to fade. He could see the carpet through her legs and the floral print wallpaper behind her shoulders and head.
“What should I do?”
“For starters, you have to stop listening to that woman.”
“I know. I know. She’s not good.”
“But you’re doing the right thing.”
“What thing? What am I doing?”
“Just keep doing it.”
“What? What am I doing?”
“Just keep making it tactile. Making it something you can touch …”
There was more, but it was too quiet for Lewis to hear. With a small but audible poof, she disappeared.