his coughing fits became more frequent.
“I’m going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
I texted Sarah next door — just that I needed her, no explanation — and her reply came back inside a minute:
On my way.
I grabbed my keys off the hook by the door.
I waited on the porch only long enough to see Sarah crossing the lawn in her slippers.
I grabbed my keys off the hook by the door.
I mouthed “thank you” before I climbed in the car.
My hands were shaking so badly.
I dropped the keys twice before I could get them into the ignition.
Sixteen years of a life I had trusted with the whole of my heart.
Only to find out that my mother and my husband were meeting in secret.
What were they hiding from me?
My mother and my husband were meeting in secret.
I pulled out of the driveway and turned toward Route 9.
Terrible possibilities filled my mind.
“Please,” I whispered to no one at all. “Please let there be a good reason.”
The yellow motel sign appeared in the distance long before I was ready for it.
I pressed the gas, driving straight toward a truth I could not yet imagine.
Terrible possibilities filled my mind.
The motel parking lot was almost empty when I pulled in.
A single flickering light buzzed above the front entrance.
The whole building looked like a place people only visited when they had something to hide.
I gripped the steering wheel for a long moment before forcing myself out of the car.
The clerk behind the desk barely looked up when I walked in.
She was chewing gum and scrolling through her phone.
I realized at that moment that I would have to lie convincingly if I wanted answers.
a place people only visited when they had something to hide.
I straightened my shoulders.
I put on the calmest smile I could manage.
“Hi, I’m here to drop off some work documents for my husband,” I said, sliding my ID across the counter. “He forgot them this morning.”
She glanced at the ID, then at her screen.
“What’s his name?”
“Hi, I’m here to drop off some work documents for my husband,”
“Logan B. He should have checked in earlier this evening.”
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“I can’t really give out room numbers, ma’am. Policy. I can call the room and let him know you’re here.”
My stomach dropped.
If she called, I would never see what was going on behind that door.
My stomach dropped.
“Please don’t,” I said quickly.
She arched her eyebrows.
I unlocked my phone and turned it toward her, a photo of Logan and me on our anniversary filling the screen.
“Look. I promise I’m not some stranger. It’s just — if you call the room, he’s going to think something’s wrong at home. Our son has been sick. I only need to drop the folder and go.”
She looked at the photo, then at the license, then at my face.
“Please don’t,”
Something in her expression softened.
The way people soften when they decide a small rule isn’t worth the trouble.
