We get Hannah set up with a giant sundae and her tears are virtually forgotten as she makes a mess of herself, enjoying the frozen treat.

“So, when this has happened before we normally find a couple to kind of adopt the child for their stay” Elizabeth has pulled me off to the side to explain.

“Do you know any willing couples?”

She shakes her head, “Not without asking around.”

I turn my attention back to Hannah, “What do you think is holding her back?”

Elzabeth sighs, “With children it’s most often regret, not getting to grow up. That can take a while to work through. But I don’t think that’s the case for Hannah. She’s still a kid, the ones who want to grow up usually appear the same age as the rest of us.”

“Do you think it’s okay to ask her? Is she even old enough to understand what’s happened? If she doesn’t know, how do we help her?”

Elizabeth frowns, “You’re taking this harder than I expected, will you be alright?”

Perceptive woman. I am bothered. Knowing that there are children here and having a literal child sitting across from me are not the same. Limbo is no place for a child. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Elizabeth looks nervous but doesn’t stop me, “I’ll be here if you need me.”

I slide into the booth across from Hannah and return the smile she flashes me.

“This is yummy.”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

She goes back to her snack with unhampered enthusiasm.

What am I doing? I have no idea how to talk to a child. I should have left this to Elizabeth.

Hannah kicks her feet under the table, the tip of her shoe bumping into my shin and the feeling of wrongness that inspired this course of action returns to me tenfold. Speaking with children may be uncharted territory for me, but unfortunately sometimes that is where we must go.

“Hannah, can I ask you a hard question?”

She pauses, whipped cream on her lips and chocolate sauce on her nose. A drop of bright blue ice-cream melts and drips from her spoon before she nods her head.

“Do you know how you got here, what happened before?”

Hannah stirs the remains of her sundae into a disgusting brown soup, “Yeah,” she answers quietly, “I know,” filling her mouth with the melted remains.

I take a breath and forge on, “Sometimes it’s confusing, it has been for me, and it’s okay if you don’t, but do you know why you are here, at the hotel, and not- already in your new home?”

Hannah puts her spoon down and leans back in her seat, kicking her feet with more vigor, “It’s not confusing, I’m just- scared.”

I catch Elizabeth putting her hand over her mouth, fighting back tears I wish I could share in. I can’t deal with children, they are so open and honest and in turn I end up far more invested than I wanted to be.

“It’s okay to be scared, Hannah,” I tell her tenderly, I don’t want to frighten her further, but I feel the need to offer some comfort, so I lay my hand on the table, palm up, so she could take it if she wanted, “it’s a big change.” Apparently, the invitation was more inviting than I anticipated because the little girl dips under the table and pops back up on my side of the booth, winding her arms around me and crying into my chest. I am so lost, and God damn it I’m scared too. Scared I’ll mess up. I can’t mess this up, can’t disappoint anyone, can’t fail. This is why people are so hard to get close to, I give a little and then have to live up to all their expectations.

Elizabeth slides into the other side of the booth and pats Hannah’s back, whispering all sorts of soothing words. Bless her. I’m not in this alone, everything isn’t riding on me.

With Elizabeth backing me up, we manage to smooth Hannah’s sobs down into sniffles. My salmon dress shirt is tear and ice cream stained, and most thoroughly ruined. It’s an acceptable loss.

“I don’t want to be here either,” Hannah tells us in her scratchy, cried out voice, “But I can’t go back to my old home anymore, can I?”

I smooth down her hair and ache in every part of my soul, “No, baby, I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

“Wh-what happens, when I leave?”

Elizabeth and I share a look over her head, because honestly, we have no idea. Without words we manage to agree to tell her the truth, it hurts, but lies would be a cruelty.  

“We don’t know,” Elizabeth tells her softly. “We just know that we shouldn’t stay here longer than we need to, that there’s a proper place, waiting for us on the other side of the doors.” I watch as every word stings her, but as she says them anyway, facing her own struggles to help Hannah face hers.

“I have to go, don’t I,” Hannah asks in a small voice, “Even though it’s scary.”

I lift her chin, “If it wasn’t scary, you wouldn’t have to be brave.”

Hannah sits up and clumsily wipes her face with a napkin, “Okay,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Eliazbeth confirms wearily while commandeering the napkin to give the girl a proper clean up, “It’s okay to rest here a while first.” 

“No,” Hannah shakes her head, “I want to go now.” Her little hands are trembling and when I take one, she squeezes me with an impressive grip, “You’ll walk me, right?”

“Every step of the way.”

We never checked Hannah in, but despite that, the ledger is correctly logged when we find her place on the page. She climbs up in the chair and takes a pen from the desk. The counter around the front is too tall for her so we brought her around to the back. I underestimated how exciting being behind the counter would be for a child and her anxiety has only returned now that she has the pen in her hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, right?” she confirms with me, “That’s what makes it brave?”

I clear my throat so she won’t hear it break, “Yes ma’am.”

She nods and puts the pen to the paper, “Oh, right!” dropping the pen to dig around in her pocket. She pulls out a smooth red stone and drops it in my hand, “That’s for helping me, it was my favorite.” She doesn’t wait for a response before getting back to work, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she writes her name. It’s messy, and ventures outside the lines but when she leans back to examine her work she is beaming with pride.

“You did a wonderful job, Hannah.” Elizabeth praises her.

Hannah smiles, hops down, brushing herself off. After signing out, guests don’t speak again. We don't know if it’s because they can’t, or if there is simply nothing left to say. Hannah gives us both a quick hug, and heads for the exit.

Elizabeth leans into my side as we watch our second guest of the day disappear through the revolving doors. She isn’t fighting her tears anymore but letting them roll freely down her cheeks.

“Of course, it takes no more than an hour for a child to make me feel like an immature fool.”

I’ve crossed a lot of uncharted territory today so what’s a little more? I want to hold her, and she needs to be held, so I will. I slip my hand in my pocket to stow away my new treasure, only to find that there’s already something in it. A little rectangle, the one the keeper gave me when we intervened in the hallway.

I pull it out and flip it over, it’s an nametag, with finely embossed gold letters that read:

Halfway Hotel

 Isaiah Bradley

Manager

Elizabeth’s eyes go as wide and round as mine, “Where did you get that?”

“I don’t-” shaking my head, “A keeper gave it to me, I wasn’t paying attention at the time, I only just realized.”

Her fingers find her own name tag pinned to the bodice of her dress, “That’s how I got mine, all those years ago,” the little laugh she lets out is strange, like a thousand emotions inspired it and none of them was joy, “to be honest I’ve kind of thought of you as co-manager for a while now anyway. It’s actually nice to see that the keepers acknowledge it. Acknowledge you.” Her eyes are still red from all the crying so it’s hard to say if the sadness she’s looking at me with is current or leftover. “We make a great team.” Her voice cracks with emotion, “I’m sorry,” whipping her cheeks, “This was really hard, I’m sure you can understand why. I’m going to go back to my room for a little while. I want to… think.”

“I understand,” I still want to comfort her, but it feels like I missed my chance. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Oh god,” she rakes a hand through her hair, ruining her waves, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Of course I’ll take you up to your room first.”

I tug at the ends of my sleeves, “It’s, um, fine, actually,” I manage to stutter out. I can’t continue being a coward in the face of Hannah’s bravery. “I, um, recently realized I don’t get so lost anymore. Do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.”

Elizabeth had a lot of questions, but after some firm insistence that she tend to her own needs for a little while, she headed back alone.