By the time I come out, she’s already in bed. Only her head pokes out from under the blankets, and I see she’s wearing a mask over her eyes and plugs in her ears. I wonder what it’s like to live in a different world. She never even said a word to me when she came in.
“I’m going to go down and get some coffee and maybe take a walk. Lucy’s on the couch with the TV on.” Either she can’t hear me or is pretending she can’t.
Lucy is fast asleep again, just like I knew she would be. She’ll sleep for at least another hour, maybe two—it’s barely six o’clock. The café in the lobby opens at six, so I’ll be able to get some caffeine and charge it to the room the way I do everything else.
That’s something else I can’t help but wonder about. How are we paying for this? What are we doing in the hotel if we can’t afford rent? It’s a pretty nice hotel, too, though, I can’t pretend I’ve been to many places before this. But we’ve stayed in a few cheap motels over the years, and this might as well be a five-star resort compared to that. Besides the pool, there’s a game room, a spa, two restaurants, and the café, which is already bustling even at this early hour on a Monday. A few guys in suits are waiting for their drinks when I get in line. I guess they’re here for business.
Who’s paying for this? I can’t shake the question. Maybe it’s because I know what it’s like to have everything thrown upside down out of nowhere. One day, we had an apartment—not a great apartment, but it was ours. It was what Lucy called home, the only home she could remember. The next day, just like that, we had to throw our things into trash bags while our furniture got tossed out on the sidewalk for the garbage men to collect. I don’t think anybody would blame me for feeling like I always have to look over my shoulder, waiting for the next terrible thing is on its way.
I know I stand out compared to the men waiting for their coffee. I cross my arms over myself, chilly in the air-conditioning, wishing I’d put on something that would cover me a little more when I feel the weight of their stares.
“Large iced latte, please. Oat milk if you have it.” I charge it using my room card, then step aside to wait. One man, somebody who looks old enough to be my grandfather, inches a little too close for comfort.
“Aren’t you a little young to be staying here by yourself?” he asks, his voice low.
I look up at him. He’s staring down the front of my v-cut neckline and not bothering to hide it. “Excuse me?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You’re a little young, is all. Are you staying alone?”
“And what if I was?”
“It seems a shame for a little girl to be running around by herself like that.” I swear, all he has to do now is lick his chops. He reminds me of the Big Bad Wolf in the old Three Little Pigs cartoon. The hotel has a channel dedicated just to those old-timey cartoons, and Lucy loves them. This man could be the wolf, easy.
“Which is it? Am I a little girl, or am I the woman whose boobs you’re staring at?” Somebody standing within earshot snickers, but I don’t look at them. I stare at him and have the pleasure of watching his face turn almost purple, like his tie is suddenly much too tight. It’s not as if this is the first time an older man has talked to me like that. When I was younger, with some of Mom’s old boyfriends, I didn’t know what to do about it.
Now? All it does is make me tired.
He hurries away with his drink, and I can relax a little bit. Usually, I wouldn’t say boo to a ghost. But it’s been a long summer, and I’ve spent most of it in this hotel, taking care of my sister while my mother does whatever she does until all hours of the night. So, I’m not in the mood to be sexually harassed by some guy who probably has daughters older than me.
It’s good to step outside once I have my drink in hand. The hotel staff is already hard at work, trimming shrubbery and sweeping the pathways. I nod to a couple of them as I pass and turn toward the abandoned bridge spanning the North Woods River. I enjoy going there sometimes, especially early in the morning. It’s peaceful, with nobody needing anything from me or demanding anything. I like to sit near the bridge and watch sunlight sparkling on the water. Sometimes I pretend I’m someone else, somewhere else. It’s easier than being me most days.