“How much?” I asked.
“$250 for the night.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars for one night?”
“Take it or leave it.”
I looked back at Abby and I could see she was starting to stir. Her body was shifting around and her head was lifting up from the seat. I had no idea how she would react to this, but I knew if I made any mention of how pissed off I was, she would gloat about being right. About how I should’ve listened to her and taken the time to pull off when I still had my choice of hotels. Now, I was stuck at another weird motel with only one room, and I couldn’t even complain about it because I had been arrogant.
Great.
“I’ll take it,” I said.
After a few signed pieces of paperwork and the man taking my card, I reluctantly took the keys to the room. Abby was sitting up in her chair now, her eyes darting around in an attempt to find me.
“What’s happening?” she asked, as I got in.
“The storm got worse and cars started pulling off for the night. My guess is we’re a little less than halfway through Iowa, but we can’t go any further. This is the only motel that has a room.”
I pulled the car up to the room as Abby’s eyes widened, but then a small giggle started emanating from her side of the car. And that giggle turned into laughter, and that laughter turned into her holding her stomach and screeching with hilarity in the car.
“Do you really have to do this now?” I asked.
“Oh, you don’t get to say shit,” she said.
“Come on. Let’s get our stuff inside.”
“This is going to be great. A dingy motel you actually have to keep your mouth shut about.”
“Let’s get ourselves inside, please.”
She picked up the bags of food and drink she still had at her feet as I grabbed our bags from the trunk. I handed her the keys so she could open the door, and she had to put her shoulder to it to get the door to open. She went stumbling in and I bit back a grin as she cussed and fell to the floor.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Piece of shit door,” she said, murmuring.
I brought our stuff in as Abby looked around the room and I could tell that even she was mortified. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls. The bed was crooked in its frame. The couch was obviously dusty from years of no use and the mini-fridge was making this loud whirring noise. There was something in the bathroom that was leaking substantially as Abby slowly walked over to the counter.
But then she lifted the folded washcloth and a cockroach came scurrying out.
“No!” she shrieked as she ran back towards me. “No. Not this place. We’re getting in the car and finding another place to stay. Hell, we’ll stay in the car. I’m not bunking with roaches.”
I was trying to hold my tongue on the situation, but she was right. The little toiletries and the mini-fridge did not off-set cockroaches. I went over to the bed and pulled back the covers, ready to check for bedbugs. This place was old and dirty, and part of me would’ve rather weathered the storm.
But the quality of the sheets shocked me, and I bent down to sniff them before I nodded.
“The sheets are actually decent,” I said. “Even though the bed frame is broken.”
“Did you know there’s a jet tub in here, Colin?” Abby asked.
“I did, yes,” I said.
I walked over to the couch and pulled off the dusty cushions. I was relieved when I saw pull-out bed underneath it. I looked around for the sheets to go with it and found them in the dresser the box television was sitting on. They were of a decent condition as well, and smelled just as nice as the ones on the bed.
“The couch is a pull-out,” I said. “So I’ll sleep there and you can take the bed.”
“That’s good, because the actual bed is only a double,” Abby said as she came out of the bathroom.
“What’s that look for?” I asked.
Abby had this weird look on her face. It was a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. She looked back at the bathroom before she looked back at me, and I furrowed my brow as I tossed the sheets onto the couch.
“Abby?” I asked.
“The bathroom’s actually decent,” she said. “It’s stocked with some nice things. Rose-scented bubble bath. Different types of mini shampoos and conditioners. Soaps. Face washes. Make-up remover pads. And there’s—other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah. Just—yeah.”
“It is Valentine’s Day weekend. Maybe they were—trying to do things up nice?” I asked.
“Uh huh,” she said mindlessly.
I watched Abby as she continued to look around the room. There were brown spots on the popcorn ceiling from water that was beginning to leak through the old roof. Her eyes settled on the bed as she studied its crooked form, her fingertips landing on the sheets. She ran them along the fresh linens and nodded, more shock rolling over her features before she grinned.
“I guess we’re moving on up, aren’t we?” she asked.
I smirked at her comment before I looked back at the couch.
“If you aren’t comfortable sleeping on a crooked bed, then you can have the couch. I just figured even though the bed is crooked, it would be more comfortable for you,” I said.
“Aren’t you the one with a lot of work to do?” she asked.
“Yes, and the couch has an outlet right by it.”
“Then you can sleep on the couch. You should technically be in the doghouse anyway.”
“Dog houses are for men in relationships,” I said.
An uncomfortable silence settled between us before Abby
