Authors: Ember Shane
"Am I going to see you again?" I asked.
She smiled ruefully. "Not if you do as I tell you. Wake up, Doyle. Run." Tears began to fall from her eyes once again.
"Mom, wait, I don't want to go. There are so many things I need to ask you. I want to see you again." I began to panic. I wasn't ready for our time together to be finished. It had barely started!
"Wake up, Doyle. Run. Go home," she repeated as the cottage began to blur. I felt like I was being pulled from the rabbit hole, so to speak.
"Wait, Mom, I love you," I choked out.
"I love you too, Doyle. Always. Now run."
I awoke in the dark hotel room, lighted only by the television which continued to play out The Terminator saga. The volume was so low that I could barely make it out over the air conditioner. I looked over to the other bed. No Chuck. I looked over at the bathroom door. It stood open, lights dark inside. I rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp.
Sitting up on the side of the bed, I realized my shirt and face were covered in tears and sweat. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand and sat trembling for a few minutes. I was waiting for the dream of my mother to fade, as all dreams do, with time. When I finally admitted to myself the dream did not seem any less real, I jumped up and slid on my shoes.
G
rabbing my wallet and the key card from the bureau, I hoped a short walk would calm me down.
Letting the door shut softly behind me, I entered the hallway and paused while I tried to remember from which direction Chuck and I had
come earlier. I turned left and around a corner and was rewarded with the soda machine I had noted on our arrival.
I withdrew a wrinkled bill
from my wallet and did my best to smooth it out before guiding it into the machine. After three attempts, it registered and a Mountain Dew dispensed. A little normalcy seemed to return after I took that first, long drink.
I exhaled softly and smiled to
myself. I felt a little foolish, letting a dream freak me out that way. I took another drink of the soda and began to amble aimlessly down the corridor.
I never heard a n
oise, but suddenly the back of my neck was tingling - like that feeling you get when someone is right behind you. I turned quickly only to be greeted by an empty hallway. I shook my head and continued to the end of the hall to the elevator.
Get a grip. You're losing it
, I told myself. I entered the elevator and took it to the lobby, where I half-expected to run into Chuck. But as the doors slid open, I could see, it too, was deserted.
I walked to the entrance of the hotel and stood against the glass doors. Cupping my hand to shield off the glare of the lobby lights, I stared out into the dark parking lot. No El Camino.
I fished in my pocket for my phone, only to realize I had left it upstairs in the bathroom. Glancing around the lobby, I noticed a clock behind the counter which told me it was roughly nine o'clock.
As if on cue, my stomach gurgled loudly, demanding to know where dinner was.
The expedition to the steakhouse seemed a distant memory, and that really didn't count, as everything had found its way back out of my system the same way it had entered.
I remembered passing some fast food places on our way in and decided to walk there. Opening the right side of the lobby double doors, I headed out into the night. A warm blast of wind whipped around me,
taking me by surprise, and I absently wondered when the weather would start turning cooler in Ohio.
Walking toward the exit
of the parking lot, I noticed a white glow illuminating from an all-night restaurant sign across the street. The name "Emily's" in bright red cursive contrasted against the white backdrop. A long-stemmed, red rose snaked beneath the name on the sign before ending in a large, sanguineous bloom. Perhaps the sign was meant to be feminine, but in a way I could not articulate, I found it disturbing.
The fact remained, however, that I did not find it disturbing enough
to alter my intentions of spending my money there. It was, after all, the closest place to get something to eat. I quickly made my way across the street and into the restaurant.
A short line had already formed before me, some patrons waiting to pay and some waiting to order carryout.
I glanced up to the backlit menu board that hung behind the counter. The menu was exceptionally ordinary and it didn't take long to scan over it. Despite my hunch that the food would be less than a five-star rating, my stomach growled loudly, eager for the chance to finally digest something.
A minute went by
, and the first in line, having paid his bill, exited the restaurant. The line of customers collectively took one step forward.
In the past, I've never been one to
get bent out of shape while waiting in line. Not that I like waiting, it's just that I've always been able to ride it out without making an ass out of myself the way some guys do. I'm sure we've all seen it. There you are in the grocery checkout, minding your own business, waiting to buy your frozen pizza and ice cream, when the guy behind you starts in with the exaggerated sighs. The sighs escalate to annoyed observations that there are two lanes open and eighteen lanes closed. The observations turn into angry suggestions on how to optimize cashier performance that are sprinkled with the color of profane language. Usually around this time, other customers start to nervously shift their weight, hesitating to make eye contact. And there you are, holding your thawing pizza and melting ice cream, and considering the possible outcomes for telling the guy behind you to shut his cakehole.
Yes, usually I do well waiting in lines.
Usually.
Maybe it was the fact that I had eaten so little that day and my stomach was overriding my normal behavior patterns
…. Maybe it was the fluorescent lighting that seemed to slightly pulsate, sending waves of confusion washing over my neurotransmitters and making my synapses not synapse properly…. Maybe it was an acute condition of claustrophobia making an appearance amid the close confines of the customers and the counter….
I don't know the exact reason for why the following events played out as they did. I just know that while another customer exited the restaurant
, and everyone took another step forward, I began to experience... agitation.
My sense of smell sharpened, triggering
my salivary glands, as I closed my eyes and breathed in the heady aroma of freshly seared meat. I opened my eyes, and we all shuffled forward another step.
The lights overhead were pulsating in rhythm to the pounding in my head.
I glanced around at the other patrons who all seemed to be blind to the seizure-inducing light show.
Where they flashing when I first came in?
I hadn't noticed.
I closed my eyes again and tried to regulate my breathing, which had become slightly erratic at some point. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I began to feel woozy.
"Sir, are you ready to order?"
I opened my eyes
to find myself at the front of the line. I took the last step forward and splayed my palms against the cool, smooth laminate of the countertop to balance myself.
"Yes, I want two half-pound burgers plain and a large Coke. Can I get the burgers rare?"
The young girl stared somewhat wild-eyed at me.
"I... uh...," she stammered
. "We're not allowed to do that."
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to compress the mound of anger that
was rising up in my throat.
"State law requires we cook the meat thoroughly. It's a disease prevention thing."
I opened my eyes and did a quick nod of my head.
"
Fine. Just give them to me to plain," I snapped, feeling the fury intensify and swell at an alarming rate.
"Sir?"
The girl was staring at me, color draining from her face. “Sir, are you okay?"
I felt my
knees buckle as my body gravitated quickly toward the floor. My eyes involuntarily closed. I was waiting for my head to smack the ground when I lost consciousness.
7
"Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?"
A feminine voice floated down to
me, and although I registered the meaning of the words, my mouth wasn't cooperating with a response.
My eyes
fluttered opened, and I was rewarded with a view of a hot girl leaning over me.
"Sir!
Can you tell me your name?"
I grimaced.
Why was she yelling at me?
Her face was only a few inches from mine, and my eardrums reverberated inside my skull.
"Yes, it's Doyle. Please stop shouting at me."
I started to sit up, and immediately she braced her hand against my back to keep me steady. Once righted, I leaned back against the counter and made eye contact with the girl who was kneeling in front of me. Good God, she was beautiful. I began to smile. She smiled in response.
"
Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"
"Just my pride," I replied with a
half-smile. "I've never actually fainted before."
"Are you diabetic?
Epileptic? Anemic?"
I
shook my head, "No, no, and no - at least not that I'm aware of."
“You should probably go and get checked out. You could have hit your head.”
“No, I’m fine, really.”
Now that my immediate well-being had been verified, business resumed in the restaurant
, and the next in line began to order as I inched my way up off the floor. The girl cupped my elbow and led me to the closest table.
"Sit down a minute, until you feel like yourself. I'll be right back."
I watched her head toward the counter and grab my order before she returned to my table, placing the bag and drink in front of me.
"I haven't even paid yet," I realized.
She smiled a blinding smile, and my breathing hitched. "Don't worry, I paid," she said.
"Oh, here, let me pay you back," I replied, leaning to my left and groping for my wallet in my right cargo pocket.
"No. Just pay me back by eating it," she stated firmly enough that I quit fishing for my wallet.
"Well, okay. Thanks
. That's very nice of you," I fumbled in way of expressing my gratitude. "Hey, wait, I don't even know your name."
"It's Adeline. But everyone calls me Addy."
"Well, Addy, it's nice to meet you," I said, extending my right hand in a feeble excuse to touch her.
"Likewise,"
she said, the corners of her mouth drawing up as if we shared some private joke.
She reached across the table, taking my hand in hers. I lingered just a moment
, feeling the warmth of her palm, before releasing her grasp.
It could have been my imagination, but in the moment before I let go of her hand, I felt a tangible spark between us. Her lashes lowered
, and I wondered if she had felt it too.
A restaurant employee approached the table and handed Addy a to-go cup of coffee.
"This one's on the house. It's the least we can do for looking after one of our customers."
Addy smiled and thanked the girl before she turned and made her way back to the counter. I took the
opportunity to quickly look her over from head to waist, as that's as far down as the table between us would allow.
She had long
, chestnut hair that formed soft waves, at least as far as I could tell. It had been pulled back into a tight ponytail with only a few small wisps free to frame her face. Her eyes were large and brown and framed by thick, dark lashes.
Her skin was smooth and pale
but not in the sickly fashion. Quite the opposite, as it seem to glow with health. I had a brief vision of Addy slathering on moisturizing sunscreen with an SPF of 100 while drinking organic milk, and somehow I knew, from that moment forward, sunscreen and milk would forever turn me on.
She wore a light blue
top, which I had just realized was a scrub top, when she returned her attention to me.
"You should eat. It
’ll make you feel better," she said, holding my gaze.
"Right,
" I answered, drawing one of the sandwiches from the bag.
The smell hit me again
, and I wondered if I was going to faint twice in one night. But in the next second, the moment was gone and I tore into the burger. Never had a sandwich tasted so good, almost wickedly delicious. Two giant bites later, I remembered I was not alone and glanced up at Addy.
She looked amused, staring at me, with her lips slightly parted. I could see the edge of her tongue pushed up against the back of her teeth
, and a wave of carnal lust came crashing over me. It was all I could do to remain seated instead of leaping the table to get to her. The feeling was so intense that I dropped my sandwich so I could grip the underside of the bench I was sitting on. I held fast to it, hoping the sensation would pass.
Briefly, I wondered what
facial expression I wore, as I saw hers change in response. Her eyes grew darker, and all traces of amusement were now gone.
"I should be
going; I have to get to work." Her voice was low, and her eyes trailed to the door.
"
Where do you work?" I managed to squeak out.
She looked up at me again, her warm chocolate eyes doing strange things to my insides. I gripped the bench harder.
"I'm a night shift nurse at a rehabilitation center nearby. I should really be going." She began to stand.
Propriety told me to stand as well so that I could properly thank her and wish her well, but I warred with my body. I was afraid that if I released my death hold on the bottom of the bench, I would not b
e able to keep my hands off of her.
She now stood beside the table, close enough to me that I began to sweat. All I could think
of was her navel being at my eye level.
"Doyle? Are you going to be alright?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
I forced myself to meet her gaze and nodded my head. "Yeah, absolutely. Thanks for your help."
She smiled.
"Hey," I began awkwardly. "Can I see you tomorrow?" The words were out of my mouth as soon as it dawned on me that unless I made it happen, I would probably never see her again. The thought was unacceptable. On that, my mind and body both agreed.
She hesitated before answering
, and I braced myself for the worst. If she turned me down, I had no idea what I'd do. But it would be ridiculously inappropriate to the situation, I was sure. I barely knew her, so it made no sense that she should hold such an overwhelming abundance of power over my emotions.
"Well, I
am
off tomorrow night... and you
are
really cute," she teased.
OH. DEAR.
GOD. She was flirting with me. My palms cut into the bench. I don't know what my expression was, but she gave a girly laugh, and my nether regions screamed at me to release my hold.
"Okay, tomorrow then. Eight o'clock?" She asked.
"Where?"
"I'll meet you here, outside, at eight."
"I look forward to it," I said, trying to give her my best I'm-not-really-a-sociopath vibe.
"See you tomorrow, Doyle." She picked up her coffee and poised to turn.
"See you tomorrow, Addy."
We made eye contact one last time before she turned and headed for the door. I watched her
leave and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I released my grip on the bench and winced. Gingerly, I raised my hands to survey the damage. Blood ran down both palms where the wood had cut into flesh. I fished napkins out of the bag and pressed one into each palm to staunch the flow of blood.
My stomach growled again, demanding my attention.
A couple of flesh wounds were not enough to deter me from my dinner. It took me all of thirty seconds to suck down my burgers and Coke before rising and heading for the door.
Ch
uck would surely be back by now
… and I wanted to tell him... about... what? Well, there was the dream of my mother. But I didn't feel like sharing that, at least not yet. It was too personal.
I guess I would have to tell him about Addy, because my date with her the next night meant Chuck would also have to spend another night
in Ohio. But I didn't feel like giving many details about her. I don't even know why. I knew Chuck would be happy for me.
A conversation came floating back to me as I crossed the street and made my way back to the hotel.
"So, what was wrong with those two girls?
"
Nothing was wrong with them. I already told you yesterday. I'm just not into chasing after random girls."
"Yeah, I know, you want a relationship, whatever. My point is
, how do you know they aren't relationship material until you get to know them?"
"I can't explain it. I just know neither of them
was for me."
T
he El Camino was parked in the same spot it had been when we first arrived, and I was glad Chuck was back. I'll admit, I was afraid there would be some residual otherworldliness left behind from my dream, and I didn't want to be there alone.
I entered the lobby doors to the hotel. The Indian man who had rented us the room had returned to his place behind the counter and nodded at me as I approached the elevator. I nodded back and softly pushed the up arrow on the control panel, trying
to be gentle on my tender hand, as my thoughts returned to Addy.
She was beautiful, but I had had very attractive girls hit on me in the past. Why, without knowing anything about her, had she made me respond so differently than any other girl? Was she not also a "random girl"? But it didn't matter. Just as I knew those other girls weren't for me, I knew Addy was.
The door to the elevator opened, and I climbed inside. I knew Chuck would be entertained enough by the situation that he wouldn't mind staying a little while longer, but I experienced a strange repulsion at the thought of having to tell him about Addy. It felt an awful lot like jealousy, albeit
unwarranted
jealousy, but jealousy all the same. The door closed and I began my ascent to the third story.
Chuck was sitting
on his bed, eating take-out when I entered our room.
"Hey, feeling better?"
he asked.
"
Much, thanks."
"Hungry?" he asked, holding up a grease-stained
drive-thru bag.
"Unbelievably, I am,"
I smiled.
He tossed the bag to me and pointed at a to-go cup sitting on the overnight stand. I sat on my bed
, and we watched the movie
Napoleon Dynamite
while we ate. I tore into mine as if I had not just finished eating. Nearing the bottom of the bag, I finally began to feel full.
"Dude, that's like a pound and a half of meat I've ate in the last hour," I said.
"Oh? Where'd you go?"
I
began to fill him in on the most essential details, which didn't include the part where I fainted nor the subject matter of my dream. When I got to Addy, I was surprised he refrained from interrupting. Although, the Cheshire Cat grin that was plastered to his face spoke volumes.
"So, is that cool? Do you care to stay another day?" I asked.
"Are you kidding me? We can stay however long it takes. I'm just thrilled you finally met someone you're into. I was beginning to get concerned," he replied.
"H
owever long what takes?"
"For you to get laid," he stated matter-of-factly and without shame. I scoffed and shook my head.
"Oh, did I misunderstand?" asked Chuck, innocently wide-eyed. "Were you wanting to stay another day to
befriend
her?"
I sighed. "No, Chuck. I am, in fact, interested in dating h
er, but do you have to be so crass?"
"I call it
keeping it real
," he replied, turning back to the television.
I sat back against the headboard and turned my attention to the TV screen as well.
Napoleon was accusing his Uncle Rico of creating problems in addition to eating all of their steak. When Uncle Rico refused to leave, Chuck swiveled his head in my direction.
"Hey, that reminds me. What about your dad?" he asked.
Shit!
Between being sick, fainting, meeting Addy, and the dream about my mother, I'd forgotten to switch my phone back on. I scrambled out of bed and to the bathroom to retrieve my cell.
I turned it on and looked at the time. 10:10 p.m. I did some mental math and realized it had been over four hours since I had last spoken with my dad. My phone began to chirp voice message notifications. One chirp, two chirps, three chirps, four
- and two buzzes for new text messages just to round it all out.
Shit, shit, shit!
He was not going to be happy.