Idiot - Laura Clery Page 0,47
a key to my motel room. I didn’t have a phone. What the hell was I doing here?
“What time is it?” I asked, feigning genuine curiosity rather than looking for a distraction to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.
“It’s just three o’clock, dude-brah,” said Bro #1 or #2. The creeping, warm buzz was taking me over and the Bros were meshing together into one Super-bro.
I needed to fight the buzz.
As the world started becoming the round, warm, spinning place that I liked, I smiled at Bro #1, #2, and #3, and slowly placed my bottle next to me on the floor. No sudden movement. No sudden movement. Be subtle.
So obviously, I fucking sprang up like a jack in the box and RAN. Bro #1 ran over to the garage door closer and smashed the button.
The door started rolling shut. FUCK.
My Liam Neeson senses kicked in and I fucking slid under the door before it closed. I kept running.
One of the Bros slid after me just before the garage door shut. I prayed it was the mouth breather, because maybe he would keel over from an asthma attack. Wait, does mouth breathing correlate with asthma? FOCUS, LAURA!
Something whizzed past my head and shattered on the concrete. He had hurled his beer bottle, just missing my head. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t look back to see if he was there. I didn’t think.
I made it back to the motel, so out of breath I could vomit. I was shaking. I hurriedly pushed the doorknob. Fuck—the key. Kevin had the only key. I banged on the door with all my might. I screamed. “OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”
No answer. I hit harder, over and over again. My knuckles were raw, my voice was hoarse. He wasn’t answering. Where the fuck did he go?
I leaned against the door, any semblance of hope drained from my body. Okay, let’s assess the situation. I looked around. The Bro chasing me was nowhere to be found: he either gave up or got distracted by something shiny. There was no lobby or receptionist to talk to. So glad we chose the shittiest motel ever. Fuck.
I looked across the street. There was another motel with the light on, a receptionist on duty. I wiped my fucking eyes and walked across the street.
It was a sister motel to the one I was staying at. The receptionist got out a key, walked across the street, and unlocked my door for me.
There was Kevin, laying on the bed. Pretending to be asleep.
PRETENDING.
TO BE.
ASLEEP.
I yanked him out of bed by the ear and smacked him. I’m sure the motel receptionist backed out of the room, not wanting to have to yet again deal with two alcoholics having a domestic dispute at three a.m.
I told him I wasn’t going to Mexico anymore. I was not. I was DONE. I didn’t tell him what happened. Kevin claimed he was really sleeping. He said he was sorry. He told me we had to go to Mexico, that it would be fun.
I don’t know what part of my brain believed him, but the next day in the morning, we were back in the car, driving to Mexico. Maybe I knew that crossing the border would be crossing the line for Rudolf.
The worst part is that it wasn’t even fun.
I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, Laura, wasn’t the worst part of this every other thing that happened?” NO. The worst part was that it fucking sucked balls and I was with someone I didn’t get along with and we fucking threw away my ecstasy.
Kevin might have had fun, I don’t even remember. I made my way to a payphone (because this was the 1800s) and called Rudolf. He answered on the first ring and didn’t even ask who it was.
“Laura. Where are you?”
“I’m in Mexico.”
There was a long pause. We both sounded so tired.
I dropped Kevin off at the airport and had to talk myself out of purchasing a flight to anywhere other than Rudolf’s apartment. I went home.
Rudolf opened the door and I got what I wanted.
He told me to leave.
Yay.
* * *
After that, I did end up booking a flight somewhere else. But it wasn’t to some far-off place to escape. I went home to Chicago. My mom had cookies waiting for me. I ate four cookies that I definitely did not deserve.
Years later I found out that Sugar was from a town ten minutes from my own.