Present Day
It’s late afternoon when I pull into the motel parking lot. I see Ryan pacing back and forth in front of the open window of our room, phone to his ear. He ends his call then steps outside as soon as I’m parked.
Before I can shut off the engine, Ryan is at the car door.
“I kept trying to call you.” I can tell he’s agitated I ghosted him all day. “I texted that I called the motel office earlier and got us another night,” I
say, then lean in to kiss him before he can respond. We stay tangled up for a few minutes, long enough to soothe any worries that there is a problem between us. “Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would.”
There were decisions to be made and plans to put in place once we watched the video. I have to hand it to him, Mr. Smith has all but turned the key in the lock on my jail cell.
Ryan follows me into our room and watches as I pull out a change of clothes from my bag. “I talked to Rachel earlier,” he says. “She’ll be in Atlanta tomorrow afternoon. She was hoping we would get up early and head that way so you two would have a little time to prepare before the interview on Friday. Looks like it’s around a four-to-five-hour drive.”
“Okay.” I move to my bag and grab a change of clothes. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“Hungry?” he asks. “Starved.”
“There’s a pizza place on the other side of the gas station next door. I’ll run over there while you’re showering.” He steps close, giving me a quick kiss, then leaves the room.
Moving my stuff to the bathroom, I dig through my toiletries bag for some Advil. My headache from this morning is back. I can tell the bottle is empty before I pull it out.
I hesitate a second about whether to call Ryan and ask him to pick up some for me or to just head to the vending machine in the elevator corridor, where I know there is an assortment of single-dose packets like I bought this morning.
My head is pounding, so I opt for the vending machine since the pizza could take a while.
I’m still dressed, so all I need to do is slip into my shoes. I’m almost to my destination when the conversation drifting from the open space where the vending machines are makes me pause. It could be any of the guests staying here, but my gut tells me to be on alert.
I inch closer. Leaning against the brick wall behind me, I slow my breathing and close my eyes. I invite my other senses to take over, hoping to pinpoint what has me feeling like this. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Two voices, both male. One much deeper than the other.
I relax into the space. Open myself up to the sounds only a few feet away. Words float my way and it’s easy to pick out the ones that hit home: Atlanta and Amy Holder.
I slide my phone out of my back pocket and text Ryan.
Me: Stay at the restaurant until I tell you to come back. Please don’t ask questions
I press send.
And then hear the familiar chime coming from the same direction as the vending machines.
What. The. Hell.
The faint rumbling of voices continues as I watch the small dots jump around as he replies. My ringer is off so there’s no sound once it’s delivered.
Ryan: Ok let me know what you want me to do
“Fuck, something’s got her spooked.” Ryan’s voice fills the space and I freeze. They’ve moved a little closer to me.
And then another voice I recognize. “Did she say what’s wrong?” George.
He’s talking to George.
“No. I need to get back. I’ll let you know when we get to Atlanta.” “And if she doesn’t make it on time tomorrow?” George asks.
I take a deep breath. No, no, no. Not this.
“I’ll let you know what I want to do. I don’t like all that information out there like that.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you,” George says. “And here, picked this up but couldn’t get it to you before you left town.”
I quietly take a few steps away, then hustle down the side of the building back to our room.
My phone vibrates in my hand, alerting me to an incoming call just as I’m opening the door. Ryan’s picture fills the screen.
I don’t answer until I’m inside. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s happening? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Freaked myself out.” My voice is frazzled but I’m hoping it plays to what I’m telling him, not because of what I’ve discovered.
“I’m coming back. Hold on, I’ll be right there,” he says, and ends the call.
I shuck off my shoes and jeans, then move into the bathroom. I cut on the water in the shower before wrapping one of the thin, white towels around me. I give myself a moment to take several deep breaths in and out to slow my racing heart.
Then I hear the door opening. “Evie!”
I poke my head out of the bathroom. “In here.”
He’s by my side in seconds. His arms pull me in and close around me like a vise. I force mine to do the same to him. “What happened?” If I didn’t know who he had just been talking to, I would be flattered by his concern.
I squeeze my eyes closed and count to five. Another deep breath in, deep breath out.
“It’s nothing, I swear. Heard something outside. Ended up being one of the janitors banging around out there.”
Opening my eyes, I see our tight embrace reflected in the bathroom mirror behind him. And papers rolled up like a tube shoved in his back pocket. Those must be what George handed him.
I watch the mirror disappear as steam from the shower fills the tiny space. I count the seconds between the drops of water as they leak from the faucet.
Because I have to separate myself from this moment. Need to focus on something other than the desire to react to what I just heard. Need some space between him and me if only in my mind.
Ryan’s mouth is next to my ear. “You okay?” His actions are exactly as they should be, and I mentally scroll through each and every moment we’ve shared, starting with the first one in the parking lot with my flat tire, scrutinizing them with the certainty of his involvement.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He met with George. He talked to George with the same familiarity that I would.
There were so many times when it felt like Ryan was a whisper away from telling me every secret he’d ever had. He even talked openly about his business in Texas in the car. There were many times I teetered on the edge of confessing everything.
But he was playing me, while I was ready to risk everything for him. The sorrow clouds my vision. My thoughts. Everything inside of me.
His hands slide up my body to my face. He pulls back so he can look at me. His eyes search mine as mine search his.
“It’s not like you to get spooked,” he whispers. He’s right.
Did he study me the way I studied him? Was there a sheet that said She enjoys sweet potato fries and two sugars in her coffee?
“I’ve been fighting a terrible headache all day. Then I heard a loud noise and it got the best of me.” I look toward the shower. “I better get in before I run out of hot water.”
He runs his hands down my back once more, then steps away. “I gave the cashier an extra twenty to deliver the pizza to us, so it should be here by the time you get out.”
I can’t lock the door when he closes it behind him because that’s not something his girlfriend would do. I step into the hot water, and it’s the jolt I need. Like a punch in the face. It clears the haze but does nothing for the grief that has settled in my veins. I am gutted.
I give myself five minutes to mourn the possibility of us. Five minutes to grieve what could have been. Five minutes to destroy the idea that it was possible that I was the kind of girl who could live in a perfect house with a perfect guy on a perfect street.
And I remember this is not my world.
I’m just a ghost who drifted through for a bit of time.
When I’m back in the main room in fresh clothes and wet hair, Ryan is clearing off the small table for us to eat on. I was starving half an hour ago, and now the thought of food makes me want to throw up.
But I sit at the table and choke down a slice. I fill the silence with mindless chitchat. Because that’s what his girlfriend would do.
“I’m worried you won’t have enough time with Rachel to be prepared for Friday,” he says after taking the empty boxes to the dumpster outside.
Those papers aren’t in his back pocket anymore and I’m hoping they didn’t get thrown away too.
“Rachel and I will have plenty of time. Promise.” I climb in the bed, burrowing deep in the covers. “It’s cold in here. Can you turn the air down a bit?”
Ryan moves to the unit under the window to adjust the temperature.
He rummages around the room a few minutes then heads to the bathroom. It’s not long before he’s crawling into bed next to me. I let him pull me close. He doesn’t speak and doesn’t push for anything more. We’re connected from our head to our feet, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart where it’s pressed against my back. There are a few moments where I think he’s gearing up to say something, but words never surface.
I replay the conversation between Ryan and George over and over and over.
“You seem distracted. Want to talk about what’s on your mind?” The whispered question so close to my ear feels intimate. Like we’re really in this together.
“I’m just tired.”
He doesn’t push for an answer, but instead runs his fingers through my hair just the way he knows I like. It’s a while before either of us fall asleep.
