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AT THE FRONT desk of the Glissando, guests can request and receive anything, anything at all. Odette was there when a man with very bad nerves had asked for a certificate guaranteeing that the building’s foundations were unassailable; this man was convinced that he was pursued by a burrowing entity that lived beneath any house he lived in and raised his floors by a foot every year, the entity’s long-term goal being to raise his quarry so high that he could never again descend into the world of his fellow human beings. Our mother made no comment on this man’s convictions but provided him with a certificate stating that there never had been and never could be room for any form of other dwelling beneath the Hotel Glissando. The only thing a hotel guest may not ask for is, for some reason, an iguana-skin wallet. The woman who requested one was told to “Get out of here and never come back.” And as the doorman threw the ex-guest’s luggage out onto the street he said: “An iguana-skin wallet? Where do you think you are?”
As far as we know, that’s the only time a Glissando guest’s request hasn’t been fulfilled. For years Odette and I have felt that our parents’ dedication to taking care of Hotel Glissando’s guests borders on the unnatural. Odette has told me that in some way the hotel and its guests are like the broken clockfaces, except that Mum and Dad are compensated for their work instead of being punished.
Even so: “They’ve given the best years of their lives to that place, and that’s their own business—but now they want to throw my life in too?” That was how I put it to Odette. Odette said she felt I was overlooking something: For as long as we’ve known our parents, my mum’s professional value has been dependent on my dad’s. She’s been treated as a facilitator for his talents for so long that she’s come to believe that’s what she’s here for. Mum brought Barrandov Senior to Hotel Glissando, so by hook or by crook she’ll bring Barrandov Junior there too.
“I don’t know . . . if I give in to this won’t I be setting that image in stone? Is that really good for Mum?”
Odette’s eyes twinkled. She said she thought I’d actually ruin the image, since there was no way I could match up to Dad.
“Thanks, sis . . . many thanks . . .”
“I, however, can match up to Dad, and maybe even outdo him.”
Was Odette’s confidence well-founded? I thought so. She’d always wanted to learn all that Dad had wanted to teach us. And when we asked Dad which of us he’d prefer to work with he said: “Odette, obviously.” My sister was making a killing as a self-employed plumber, but she gave all that up to be there for my parents. She had no regrets either: said she loved the work and could see why our parents were so committed to the Glissando. I asked her to elaborate and she became so emotional that it made me feel lonely.
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I, ON THE other hand, lost my way for a while. Mum took to behaving as if I’d never even existed: “Imagine if I’d only had one child . . . one child who’d throw my life’s work away in favor of Hayseed Class or whatever it’s called,” she told Odette. Dad and I spent Sunday evenings at the pub as usual, but it just wasn’t the same. I hadn’t realized how important it was for me to have both parents on my side. Mum did a lot for us when we were coming up. Just like all their other work, she and Dad split their share of raising us right down the middle, finding mostly trustworthy grown-ups to be with us when they couldn’t, keeping track of all our permission slips, hobbies, obsessions, allergies (both faked and genuine), not to mention the growth spurts, mood swings, the bargaining for their attention, and the attempts to avoid their scrutiny. I remember Mum repeatedly telling us we had good hearts and good brains. When she said that we’d say “thanks” and it might have sounded as if we were thanking her for seeing us that way but actually we were thanking her for giving us whatever goodness was in us. She didn’t believe I was giving my all to teaching and she was right. She wants to see good hearts and good brains put to proper use, but I’m not convinced that everybody ought to live like that, or even that everybody can.