“You know, my grandson is a Navy SEAL. I’ve got cash—about a hundred in my wallet. But look here, I see an ATM right over there across the way.”
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I reach into my jacket and pull out my debit card. It feels strange in my fingers. I crack one lid and hold it out toward her shadow. “Zero three... zero... five.”
“How much would you like?”
“Max,” I croak.
I see a yellow cab through bleary eyes. I can’t seem to focus on the shadow woman’s face.
Maybe she’s my mother, come to guide me through—
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I don’t so much step as fall into the cab. The driver jets off. I can’t remember if I told him where to go, or if I got my cash. The woman was...
I bend over. Clutch my head. I can’t remember how I got into the cab, can only think of—
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I crack my eyes open to a view of beads hanging from a rear-view mirror. Underneath it, the city marching by. “Do you... have sanitizer?” I rasp. “Hand—”
A bottle is thrust into my hands. My fingers shake.
“Here!” The driver snatches it away. I blink and swallow. My throat burns.
The bottle lands in my lap, the top flipped open. I squeeze some out into my palm. The smell of alcohol consumes me.
The next time I open my eyes, we’re at the Carlyle. My throat hurts so much, it’s making things blur.
I can’t go back. I won’t.
I hand the man my debit card. He shakes his head. “She paid, before we leave.”
I nod. Okay.
But I’m not okay. I can’t get my legs to move. My head is spinning like a top. I start to cough. The short man comes around to help me. As he wraps his hand around my wrist and I try to shift my hips, my jacket flops open. His eyes fly to my chest, and then pop wide.
“Not here,” he says, shaking his head. “This no the right place. You not get out here.”
I laugh and struggle out, onto my feet and through the hotel’s automatic doors. I stagger into the lobby like a bear into a palace. I find the nearest chair and list into it, sweating.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
It can’t be true. It isn’t true. It can’t be true.
I try to focus. Breathe.
I guess somehow I get a room. I get a room with the wad of cash tucked into my jacket pocket, and manage to ride the elevator up to it.
When I open my eyes, the clock beside this strange bed says 11:49 PM.
My throat is dry. It hurts so much I start to shake.
My stomach is awash with nausea, even as my body screams for food. I roll over on my side and am surprised to find a tray beside me on the bed. With a trembling hand, I lift the receipt. My eyes seem wet. I can’t read it.
I tear a piece of bread, but it’s no use. As soon as I feel it in the back of my throat, I’m vomiting.
I feel the edge of panic start to fray around me.
Soon, someone will come...
I slide off the bed and crawl over to a chair beside the window. So dark outside. Maybe just stay here on the floor...
I STEP THROUGH THE GLASS door slowly. Once, while I was still down on my hands and knees out on the balcony, I called his name. But that’s the only time.
I look around the bedroom. That bed—sans canopy now—with its thick headboard and tree-sized posts. The vast expanse of hardwood, topped by rug. The lamps on shelves and tables, wearing dust.
The urge to call out for him pulls at me, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I straighten my shoulders and wait.
His arms come around me like a dream. His chest against my back, his hands cupping my hips. He turns me toward him, and we’re like a wicked fairy tale. Me with the sick gallop of my heart. Him with his hard face, his staunch mouth.
The room is warm with sunlight. He carries me away from the gold glow, toward the shadow of the bed. He lays me on my back and