Do Not Disturb(55)

Nick has been doing what he can to make money. He took some online web design courses, and now he is doing freelance work so we don’t go broke. He’s been talking about trying to sell the motel, but after Christina was killed there, he can’t pay somebody to take it off his hands.

He usually does his freelance computer work at the front desk in the motel. Never here. He doesn’t want to be around me anymore, and it’s hard to blame him. After what happened with Christina, our relationship got even worse, if that were possible. We barely speak two words to each other anymore. We haven’t made love once since her death.

Sometimes I’m not sure we ever will again.

I see movement in the motel on the second floor. Then the lights flicker on in room 203. Nick has chosen a room for the guest.

And now I get out my binoculars.

Nick still doesn’t know about the binoculars, and that I’ve been using them to spy on his guests—he’d be furious. I have tried to use restraint about it. I don’t spy on him all the time. For the most part, the binoculars stay shut in a drawer. But sometimes I get them out in an emergency.

An attractive woman showing up at the motel counts as an emergency. Hey, it’s not my fault that my husband has proven himself not to be trustworthy.

Sometimes when I’m staring across into the hotel with my binoculars, I feel ill about what my life has become. That night two years ago, Nick stopped me before I took all those pills in my medicine cabinet. But the truth is, I still think about it a lot. Except now it’s too late. I can’t stand on my own anymore, even when holding onto the sink, and the pills are too high for me to reach. So I keep on living, by default.

I raise the binoculars to my eyes and look into room 203. Close up, she is decidedly very pretty. Maybe in her late twenties. Blond hair. A little bony compared with Christina, but still very attractive. I watch as she paces across the room. She looks anxious.

I wonder if she’s in any trouble. After all, she pulled into a seedy motel in the middle of the snowstorm.

Or maybe she’s here to make trouble.

She pauses for a moment. She walks over to the door to her room and flings it open. Nick is standing there, holding a plate of food out to her.

Gosh, isn’t he nice? The kind, handsome owner of the motel thoughtfully brought her some dinner. I bet he didn’t even charge her, as if we could spare the money. I can just imagine her swooning over that one.

I watch them chatting for a moment, wishing I could hear what they’re saying. But more than that, I wish I could trust him.

But I can’t.





Chapter 34


That Morning



Nick is rifling around in our closet. I turn my chair to watch him, trying to figure out what he’s doing. “What are you doing?”

“I need to borrow your boots.”

“My boots?”

“I’m going to help this guest dig her car out and she doesn’t have any boots. I’ll bring them back when she’s done with them.”

My jaw tightens, as I remember watching that woman’s pretty face through my binoculars last night. “Is it really necessary for you to dig her car out?”

“I told her I’d help. Although honestly, I don’t think she’s going anywhere until the plow comes.”

“Well, gee, that’s so nice of you.” I don’t even try to keep the edge out of my voice.

Nick retrieves my fur lined black boots from the closet. I remember how warm those boots used to be. I could go out in deep snow, and I wouldn’t even feel it. Of course, I wouldn’t feel it now either since I can’t feel my feet at all.

“Rosie,” he says patiently. “I have to help her. Don’t be difficult about this.”

“Oh, am I being difficult?”

He frowns. “Yes. You are.”

“Strange. Why would I be upset because my husband wants to help a beautiful young woman with her car?”

He drops the boots on the ground and sits down heavily on the bed. “Don’t do this. Please.”

“Do what?”

“I’ve been faithful, okay?” He looks me in the eyes. “I haven’t touched another woman since… Anyway, it’s not like you’ve done anything to help.”

“Help what?” I stare back at him. “I’m stuck here in this room all the time. What am I supposed to do?”

“For starters, get out of this goddamn room. Let me turn the dining room downstairs into a bedroom. Let me convert the kitchen at Rosalie’s and we can open it back up—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I punch my fist into my knee so hard, it kicks up a spasm. But I just ignore it. “You act like it’s all so easy. It’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not easy, but—”

“You don’t know.” My right leg trembles with a muscle spasm. “Look, I don’t want to have this conversation. Go give that woman my boots. Let her keep them, for all I care. It’s not like I’m ever going to use them again.”

I expect him to keep arguing with me, like he often does. But instead, he gets back on his feet. “Fine,” he snaps.

Then he picks up the boots and stomps out the door. Every step he takes echoes through the entire house until the front door slams shut.