Page 19 of The Stranger
It’s the stress of the night and the closeness of our bodies and the way that she’s looking at me, and the fact that I haven’t been with anyone since I broke up with Alicia a year ago.
It has to be that.
Can only be that.
Realizing I’m still holding her hand and that she hasn’t pulled back either, I drop mine away from her. Her eyes land on my bare chest, and the warmth sparks, igniting a full-blown flame inside me. I look away.
“I’ll, uh, get some clothes on and then go and see about getting you a room for the night.”
Seeming to come out of a trance, she steps away and clears her throat, tucking both hands behind her back. “Great. And…thank you.”
I smile at the nicety, touched by the gesture. “No problem.”
Once I’m dressed, I exit the bathroom again, my body drenched in sweat from the humidity of the room, fabric sticking to my skin.
She’s perched on the edge of the bed, her head resting against the headboard behind her.
“Do you want to come with me?” I ask, gesturing toward the door.
She shakes her head. “I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s okay. Freshen up a bit.”
“Sure. You can shower if you want. I don’t mind.”
“I’ll wait to have my own bathroom for that, but thanks.”
“No problem. When I get back, I’ll find you some clean clothes from my bag. I’m sure I have something that will work.”
“You don’t have to do?—”
“I want to.” I interrupt her argument. “It’s no problem.”
“Thanks.” She nods, standing up and crossing the room. As she passes me, her hand brushes my arm, and there it is again. The bolt of electricity.
Trying to ignore it, I step out of the motel room and back into the cold. I feel my damp hair turning to ice almost in an instant. The wind whips the snow around, sending it this way and that, making it harder to see anything but this. Hard to imagine there’s still a world out there beyond the storm. That just past the darkness and the mess of white, there’s a town, then a city, then a world.
I pass through the breezeway, picking up the pace as I near the door to the lobby. When I swing it open, I find another couple standing in front of the desk, deep in conversation. The man is a bit taller than I am, with greasy, slicked-back gray hair, and wearing a denim jacket. The woman is tall, too. Snow clings to every inch of her yellow hair. She offers me a small smile, then looks at the man. The couple stares at me in silence, and I get the feeling I’ve interrupted an argument. Looking closer, I realize the woman appears on the verge of tears.
The man casts a glance over his shoulder at the desk, then back at me, his eyes narrowing. “You work here?” He runs a hand over his gray mustache.
“Uh, no. I’m just staying here.”
“I don’t think there’s anybody here. Can’t get anyone to answer the bell.” He taps it several more times in a row to prove his point. “We’ve been standing here for half an hour, it feels like. You got a phone number to reach the guy?” He points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Ernest came from earlier.
“I don’t, and the phone lines are down. He’s not answering the bell?”
The man rings it twice more, then sighs. “Apparently not. Forget it. We’ll get ’em later. We’ve got enough for the night anyway.” He gestures for the woman to follow him as he takes a step toward the door.
I move to the side, allowing them past me before I approach the desk.
“Have a nice night,” the woman calls back to me. “Stay warm.”
The wind catches the door, slamming it shut, and I’m suddenly alone in the silence. Somehow, it’s even worse here alone. The quiet of the room, the green-and-yellow-ish glow of the lights overhead, the way they buzz softly. It all has some sort of funhouse effect. Like I’ve stepped onto the set of a seventies movie and nothing is quite right.
I ring the bell, rapping my knuckles on the top of the desk as I wait. When a few minutes pass, I do it again. This time, twice.
Ching. Ching.
Originally, I assumed the other couple was just impatient, but now I’m realizing they were telling the truth. Ernest doesn’t seem to be here. Still, I wait as several more silent minutes pass.