Falling From Grace

Chapter 12

12

T hough Mama always told me hearing a coyote’s howl meant good things were on their way, I didn’t believe it. Not until I woke up this morning, knowing I’d be away from here. Even if it was for only a short time. Peter loaded the duffle bag into the back of the truck, and after I slipped a note underneath Ray and Arlene’s door, we set out for the open road. I watched the rugged and empty landscape in the side mirror fade into the distance. Whenever anything bad happened, I always wanted to run away. Even just for a day. But what I didn’t ever expect would be wanting to share that with a man. A man who said all the right things. I never believed a man could be capable of that. And lately I found myself slipping into that fantasy again. The fantasy of what my life could be like with a man.

There were moments like when Peter held my stomach that made it difficult to not fantasize about that possibility. To me that was one of the few precious moments in my life. And when I first saw those two pink lines, heard my baby girl’s heartbeat, and felt that first kick, I knew I’d have many more. Like the day I finally get to hold her in my arms. I thought I wanted to be alone on that day, but now a part of me wasn’t so sure.

Turning my head, I saw Peter focusing on the road. He scratched his newly shaven jaw for the fifth time. Even he still wasn’t used to it. He looked over at me and smiled before returning his attention to the highway. It was just us—no one else. No expectations. No interruptions. No chaos.

Was this what love should feel like?

The kind that feels like home?

Was this how Arlene felt with Ray?

The gentle hum of the truck had already lulled Harley to sleep. I pulled down the sun visor and patted my cheeks to bring some color, wiping the crust off near my eyes. Satisfied with my attempt to smooth down my hair, I shut the visor but not without catching Peter averting his eyes.

“ What?”

His cheeks were red. “Nothin’.”

“So, where we going?”

He grinned and looked at the road. “It just occurred to you to ask me that?” His voice was laced with humor. I rolled my eyes. “You ever been to the Grand Canyon? I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but—?” He paused, his eyes alight from the burst of excitement on my face. “What?”

“We’re really goin’ to the Grand Canyon?”

“Yeah. What, you’ve already been there?”

“No. I’ve only seen it in magazines.”

“You’ve never seen the Grand Canyon in all the time you’ve lived here?”

“No, we only had one car, and my pa was always usin’ it,” I said and sat back against the seat. “We never really went anywhere, but it wasn’t all that bad. Arlene and I used to play water tag with the hose every summer. I was luckier than most kids. I had a roof over my head and food on the table. Some kids had it worse,” I continued, thinking out loud. And like the time my mama first took me stargazing, I turned and faced Peter with the same excitement. “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?”

“What?” he asked, with a broad smile.

“Why you smilin’ like that?”

“Smiling like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.”

“I just ... never heard you talk so much with a smile on your face,” he answered. “I like it.”

I looked away and smiled at my belly.

“So, what is it you wanna ask me?”

“Why’d you come here?” I asked, looking over at him. “Didn’t you wanna go anywhere else?”

“I kinda had to come here. It was either my mother or me. Someone needed to clean up her brother’s trailer. And I have Harley, so I really don’t mind where I go,” he said. Just when I hoped he would continue, he stopped, as if he was still trying to decide what and what not to share with me.

Taking off my sandals, I stretched out my legs. “It must be nice to go wherever and whenever you wanna go. I feel like most people who live in trailer parks just wind up being stuck there, you know? My mama said I’d probably just marry the boy down a few trailers and have more kids than I could handle. Never really go anywhere. I remember what she told me a few days before she left. She said, ‘Grace, when you meet a boy, don’t spread your legs like Dawn down the road. We Callaway women have always been fertile. You’ll end up just like her with four kids. Don’t do what me and my own momma did.’”

“And you were nine?”

“Yeah, but my mama wasn’t always bad. I think she just had bad stuff happen to her. It’s like what you said. No one really knows how to take care of a kid. But she was right about one thing, I’m only gonna get fatter.”

“You’re not ...” Peter hesitated. “You’re not fat, Grace. If anything, you’re growing the one thing that’s still innocent and good in this world, and that’s beautiful,” he said with such sincerity and truth it brought tears to my eyes.

I searched his face for any dishonesty but found none, and for the first time in seven months, I felt seen. Like I mattered again. The same red hue had returned to his cheeks. I looked down at my white dress and couldn’t help but smile again, as an unexpected weight lifted off my shoulders.

“ Peter.”

“ Yeah?”

“If we’re goin’ to the Grand Canyon, does that mean we’re gonna be eating Navajo tacos?”

“Why? Is that what you want when we get there? Tacos?”

“Tacos do sound good.”

“Not fries with no salt?”

“That’s not funny,” I said.

He smiled and broke into a quiet laugh.

Even after chugging a whole water bottle and eating a granola bar, the morning sickness continued. The sound of Terri Gibbs’ voice singing “Somebody’s Knockin’” caused my eyes to droop. My body slumped into Peter’s side, at peace knowing he was just a hand’s reach from me. His scent alone had done what only the sunrise could do. The soft tang of musk and soap was something I could never grow tired of. Just like the steady rise and fall of his chest willing me deeper and deeper into sleep. I had forgotten what it was like. To be willingly vulnerable. To know that when I woke up, he would still be here. And I didn’t want him going anywhere.

A bump in the road caused my eyes to open, meeting the sun’s glare. I shifted in the seat and nestled my cheek into Peter’s chest, shutting my eyes. “Why’s it so hot?”

“Cause it’s the summer,” he replied, and I could hear the smile on his face. “We’re only an hour and a half away now.”

I slowly sat up.

He lifted his arm over my head and placed his hand back on the wheel. I leaned toward the window, staring at the barren and flat landscape. Wiping my sweaty forehead, I slumped into the seat. I adjusted the hem of my spandex shorts and sighed in frustration, throwing my head back.

“Want some more water?” He reached into the cooler behind my seat, passing me a bottle.

“Thank you.” I twisted off the cap, taking a gulp.

I then carefully poured some water on my hand and spread the cool water across my thighs. Letting out a breath of relief, I rested my forehead against the dashboard to enjoy the soft gust of the A/C.

“Hang in there. We’ll be there soon,” Peter reassured me and gently rubbed my back before taking the water bottle. “Wanna stop and get something to eat? You ready for those tacos?”

I nodded.

“ Alrighty, then.”

After an hour on Highway 87, past Grand Canyon Junction, we pulled over. Harley and I anxiously waited in the parking lot for him to return from the store. Harley’s ears raised as he saw Peter walking over with a plastic bag packed to the brim with Styrofoam boxes. In the same hand he carried two water bottles. He opened the driver’s side door, and Harley jumped out to find the perfect spot to relieve himself. As Peter checked each box of food, I leaned forward.

“Are those the tacos?”

“Indeed they are.”

“From the gas station?”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try these. I grew up eating these.” He took a sip of water and set the bottle down, tying the handles of the plastic bag to secure the food. Peter looked back and watched Harley.

“What’s it like?”

“ The tacos?”

“Seeing the Grand Canyon. Is it just as pretty as they say, or is it just all hype?” I asked.

“It’s a lot of rock.”

“A lot of rock? That’s the best answer you could come up with?” I said, causing a smile to spread across his face.

“I’m not gonna spoil it for you,” he said and called for Harley, who came rushing over. He leaped with ease into the opened back window. Peter climbed in and shut the door. “You know, maybe tomorrow morning we can get Sonoran-style eggs in a tortilla bowl. Beef with black beans and roasted red peppers,” he suggested. Harley stuck his head outside as we pulled out of the gas station.

“ Sonoran-style eggs?”

He glanced at me, baffled. “Don’t tell me. You’ve never had—?”

“No. Are they good?”

“Are they good? You hear that, Harley?” he asked. Harley barked. “Are they good, she says.” Peter shook his head.

“Well, are they?”

“Grace, you can’t visit the Grand Canyon and not have some eggs with buckwheat pancakes. Which means we’re not leavin’ here until you do. Alright?” he insisted. I smiled. “Cause, you just can’t do that.”

“ Alright.”

For the remainder of the drive, I rested my head on the windowsill. It wasn’t until I caught glimpses of stands on the side of the road, selling a variety of handmade Native American goods, that I sat upright in my seat. Knowing the destination ahead was close, my inner child gasped in delight. A dozen cars in front of us headed in the same direction. In just a few minutes, we were at the Desert View Entrance Station, and a park ranger was handing Peter our permit. He tipped his hat and bid us a farewell. My heart quickened as we followed behind the other vehicles. The breathtaking, panoramic view of the Grand Canyon was right outside my window. It was even more magnificent than on the cover of National Geographic . I shared a glance with Peter and returned my attention to the window to bask in its scenery. At Mile Marker 251, we turned into an extension lined with a parapet, overlooking the view.

Two cars had stopped as well, and a small family stood in front of their car, raising up their cameras. One young man had perched himself on the roof of his Jeep and lifted a heavy-duty camera to his face. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of the horizon, and I looked back at Peter, who smiled at my excited expression. I unbuckled myself and quickly opened the door, swinging my legs over. Just as I was about to lower myself down, Peter jogged over and held the door wider. When my feet landed on the ground, Harley jumped out to explore the patch of trees. My heart raced from the expansive landscape. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with each and every step.

The sun was still overhead, filling the cliffs and the Colorado River with a haze of sunshine. Pink and red hues reflected in the areas where it hit the tallest peaks. As I reached the edge, I placed my hands on the rail and leaned forward to inhale the fresh air and soak up the warmth. I stood awestruck by the never-ending extension of red rock and dramatic cliffs. It was perfect. She was the perfect testimony to how majestic the desert could be, terrifying in its mass but nonetheless beautiful. Every part of me wanted to take off my shoes and stand on the cliff with arms spread wide. To feel the earth’s warm rocks soothing my soul. To be free, wild, and happy. That’s all I needed.

“I can’t believe something this big really exists. If I knew this was your special place, I would have brought my camera with me,” I said, looking back at Peter. He glanced at the view and snorted, shaking his head as he lowered the tailgate. “What do you mean—?” I mocked his snort “— by that?”

He looked surprised and amused at the same time before jerking his head toward the view, saying, “Trust me, Grace, that is something you won’t ever forget. You don’t need no picture.” He set down the bag of food along with our drinks. I leaned against the tailgate, enjoying the breeze hitting my face. “And when my family and I would come here—Really, Harley? How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t eat the grass.” Peter kneeled down, shaking his head as he forced open Harley’s jaw to grab the blades from his tongue. “Come on, up in the truck.” He patted Harley’s backside as he leaped up.

I smiled, admiring the horizon a little bit longer. “You would do what with your family?” I asked, curious, wanting him to continue as I lifted myself up onto the tailgate, providing him my full attention.

He stood and wiped Harley’s saliva onto the side of his jeans. “Well, my family and I always took a trip out here every summer. I think I was around twelve years old when it really hit me how big this place was. My family and I would spend all day here. We’d hike over at the West Rim and see Eagle Rock. And there’s no rails there like here. So, uh, it was basically natural selection at that point,” he chuckled. I bit my bottom lip and smiled, letting out a small laugh. “This was also the one place where my pop and I didn’t bicker at each other,” he said and sat down, handing me the box of food.

Harley lay between us, watching with eager eyes.

“It brought me some peace of mind at the time, actually.”

“What was on your mind?” I asked, unwrapping the foil from my taco.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he popped the cap off a beer, using the corner of the tailgate. “That ...” He took a small sip of his cold Guinness before continuing. “... if this kind of view was possible, a twelve-year-old kid wanting a family when he’s all grown up didn’t seem so impossible,” Peter answered, setting down the bottle. “Right then I knew I wanted to bring my family here some day. But uh ...” He paused and lowered his gaze to his boots. “You already know that part of the story. Like I told ya, life doesn’t always go as planned.”

“Twelve years old?”

“Yep. I wanted four kids. But now that I’m older and seeing how many gray hairs I gave my mother, I think one or two is a good number. I was sort of a spunky kid growing up,” he admitted. “I guess I wanted to be the father that mine never was. I had to grovel for that man’s respect. It was always hard to get a compliment from him or even a how are you. But my pop also taught me a lot of things. A lot of good things,” he recalled, and I watched both his middle and pointer finger tap the neck of the bottle.

“Why do you tap three times?”

“Permanent nerve damage in the median nerve. A lot of guys can get it in the Marines. I was lucky it wasn’t worse, though, like what some go through. Mine just spasms. But I have good days and bad days. Like we all do.” Peter set down the bottle after taking a sip and leaned over. “See?” He pointed to the scar on his right wrist that faded up into his palm. “Doesn’t look as bad as it used to. But it was my right knee that I couldn’t really go back from. And Harley was getting tired.”

“Is that another reason why you were honorably discharged?” I asked without thinking.

He looked at me and quirked a brow. “Just how much did my friend Milo tell you?”

“ Enough.”

“Enough, huh? I swear that man has always been a blabbermouth,” he chuckled, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another swig of beer. “You know, if my pop was still around, I think he would’ve liked you.”

“ Really?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, scratching the back of his left earlobe. “You just say what you want to say. My mother’s like that. And I like that about her. It’s something I wish I could do more of.”

I smiled, listening to him. Whether it was the beer starting to lower his walls or the wide-open landscape, he was somehow answering all the questions I had without needing me to ask. Returning my gaze to the sky, I let out a soft breath.

“I think my mama would’ve liked this,” I said, staring at the view. “She’s always liked the desert. She liked that you could see everything and anything.”

“Do you know where she is?” he asked hesitatingly.

“No. But that’s okay. I think it’s better for both of us. It’s better for my baby, too. I don’t want my baby anywhere near my mama,” I said while picking out a packet of salsa from the bag.

“Whoa, whoa, hey. What are you doin’ with that?” he asked. I looked over at him and then at my taco.

“What? I’m putting salsa on my taco.”

“This is the one taco you do not put salsa on. Just try it, and if you don’t like it, well, I’ll think of something if we get to that point.”

“Then why did they put it in the bag?”

He stared at me for a long moment and clicked his tongue, reaching into the bag. I smiled. Peter set down his food to rip open a packet of salsa with his teeth. He squeezed a line of salsa across my taco and then his, holding out the packet for Harley to lick off the excess. Making sure nothing would slip from the taco, I only then brought it to my mouth to take a bite. The cheese and sour cream combined with every known ingredient used on a taco created a satisfying mix for my tastebuds. I groaned and shut my eyes.

“Oh my God,” I said with a mouthful. “That’s really, really good.”

Peter took a large bite of his, closing his eyes. His shoulders deflated and his whole body relaxed as he savored the moment. He topped it off with a swig of beer and finished chewing. “That’s a damn good taco,” he said, ripping a piece of the Indian frybread. “Even with the salsa.”

I took another bite, noticing Harley’s begging eyes. My finger plucked out a piece of ground beef and watched Harley gobble it up from my hand.

“So, where are you from?” I asked.

“Well, I never really stayed in one place long enough for me to answer that. ‘Cause of my pop, we were always movin’ around. And after my wife and I split, he died, and then I packed up my bags and took Harley with me to Montana,” he explained, taking a bite and chasing it with another sip of beer.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Losing someone is never easy. No matter how much you might think you hate ‘em,” I said. Peter looked over. “But you have Harley with you. And not many people have that. A lot of people spend all their lives searching for a friend like that. My mama did, but that didn’t go well for her. Like a lot of things . . . But I wish it had. I think she would’ve been happier.”

He returned his focus to the horizon. “You don’t know that, Grace. A person can’t always make someone else happy. Cause we’re always changing and wanting different things. That’s why you gotta’ find someone who can grow and change with you. Want the same things as you. Talk with you. My wife and I never really talked when I was away,” he continued. “Maybe a few letters here and there. But the only times we really ever talked was when I would come back to visit her for a couple days. Then I’d have to go back. It’s not easy. I don’t blame her anymore for wanting to leave. I get it now.”

“Because ...” I hesitated. “... you were gone so much?”

“That ...” He exhaled. “And I think it mostly had to do with the fact that there was a very big possibility I wouldn’t come back.”

A heavy ache settled in my chest, the weight of his words hitting me harder than I expected.

“After that, I found a new respect for my mother. She didn’t have it easy with my pop and me.”

“And where is your mother?”

“Montana. She’s stayed there through everything. Never had the heart to leave.”

“You close to her?”

He took a sip of beer and said, “Not really. Not anymore.” He paused, and regarded me, leaning forward. “You see my mother used to say my pop was the peanut butter and she was the jelly. And you can’t have a peanut butter sandwich with just jelly. It’s just no good.”

Watching my feet swing back and forth, I said, “I hope I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to call my own someday.”

“Who’s to say that you won’t? You have your whole life ahead of you. Anything can happen.”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. You don’t know, Grace.”

“And you don’t know, either. Who’s to say that you won’t find someone to build a life with? You’re still young, too. It’s not just me.”

His eyes drifted over but softened as they roamed my face.

“If you really want something, you gotta’ take that leap of faith,” I said. “No matter how big or scary the jump is.”

“And do you, Grace Callaway, know what you want?”

“I’ve known what I wanted since I was ten years old. I never liked Catalina. And maybe I’m crazy, but I feel like it hates me, too. Even though I didn’t plan for this to happen ...” I looked at my stomach. “I like to think someday I’ll get to have that white picket fence with the table and yellow umbrella on the front porch. Holding my baby girl and drinking a glass of my iced tea, just enjoying life,” I answered, realizing I hadn’t ever shared this with someone before. Even Arlene.

Peeking over apprehensively, I expected him to tell me to stop making wishes on dreams that weren’t ever going to happen, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes were gentle and even wistful as he continued to focus on the view. And that little light of hope glimmered in my chest again. Reassuring me that maybe, just maybe, it was possible. He didn’t look at me, but I knew he was soaking up every word I said.

“ And you?”

He looked at me, surprised. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. What do you want?” I asked, hesitant as to whether or not I should’ve asked.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’m fine with it just being me and Harley. I had a plan, but now I don’t know so much.”

“What did you want to do before the Marines? Be a stay-at-home dad?” I joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

A smile spread across his face. “Pretty much, yeah. Not sure if that’s in the cards for me anymore, though.”

“Why? You’re not old.”

“Old enough to be set in my ways. At least that’s what I thought at the time,” Peter muttered, seeming to dwell on his words. “Either way, age may not be a factor for me but I’m not exactly a smooth talker, you know? I ain’t good at all that stuff. I’ve never been,” he said for a matter of fact and looked at the bottle in his lap, still tapping it with his finger. “I’m like my pop in that way.”

“All that stuff?”

“Uh,” he paused and lifted his head, deep in thought. “What do they call it these days? ‘ Goin’ out?”

I let out a small snort. “No, they don’t call it that.” I took a bite of my taco. Covering my mouth, I continued, “And it really doesn’t matter what age a man is, like it is for a woman. They can still have a child if they want to before they bite the dust. And if they don’t like their kid, they can make another one.”

His shoulders started to shake as he threw his head back and laughed. It was a laugh that fit him perfectly, deep and hearty. And it wasn’t just the baritone of his voice pulling me in. It was his smile. His eyes and now his laugh. It was everything. I never thought a laugh could bring me so much joy. Even after all the pain. After all the heartache. He’d shown me that it was possible to laugh again. And just like all the times I’ve been by Peter’s side, the pain didn’t feel so bad anymore. Because I knew I’d smile and laugh again. He caught his breath and let out a carefree sigh, still smiling. A warmth built up inside me, and like the sunrise every morning, the heat first touched my tippy toes, then my legs, and then my belly, completely surrounding me in its light.

“Wow, I haven’t laughed like that in ages,” Peter said as he caught his breath and took a sip of beer. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that. I think I’m still out of breath.”

“ Really?”

“Hey, after spendin’, what, almost four years in the Marines? It’s kinda hard to find something that will make you laugh. My friend, Milo? He wasn’t the guy he is now when I first met him. After you come back from something like that, you sort of lose your purpose. And you gotta’ find a new one. I don’t know how he can keep going back. I think in his mind it’s the only thing he knows how to do. And I was like that for a while. Thinkin’ I was doin’ some good, but ...” He exhaled deeply. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I feel old. And that plays a big role in planning these days.”

“You can’t plan life.”

“Coming from the girl who knew what she wanted since she was ten.”

“ That’s different.”

“How’s that different?”

“Cause, you can only plan so much until something happens. You have to be flexible. And who knows, maybe, wherever you end up will be even better than that plan of yours. You never know.”

“H-how old are you again?”

“ Nineteen. Why?”

His brows raised, facing the horizon as he said, “Why? Cause a nineteen-year-old doesn’t just say that, that’s why.”

“Well, that’s no nineteen-year-old I ever wanna meet,” I claimed. His face alighted with humor the moment he saw how serious I was. He shook his head, looking away, and he quietly laughed.

“It’s not funny. It’s true.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so funny.”

“Do you know how irritating it was to sit in a class all day with a bunch of kids who didn’t know what they wanted in life? Or even what they wanted to eat the next day? Or where they hoped to be in five years?”

He smiled, saying, “Alright. Alright. Well, is there anything else you want? I know you gotta have more.”

“A back scratch.”

“A back scratch, huh?”

“Yeah. A back scratch. It’s always nice to wake up with a back scratch.”

“Alright, then, a back scratch.” He returned his attention to the view, still smiling, shaking his head.

For the next few hours, we sat there watching the mighty sun lower itself closer and closer to the horizon where the sky met the canyon. Blues, pinks, and purples combined into a symphony of watercolors, signaling the end of the day. There was something wistful about witnessing something so powerful and bright moving behind a mass of rock that’s only purpose was to be still. Mama told me that when the sun sets, it’s ending its journey with us and beginning a new one somewhere else. It all brought a smile to my face. Not only from the masterpiece unfolding in front of my eyes but in sharing it with someone. Feeling the tears begin to rise as the last light of day began to melt away, I reached over. My fingers slipped between Peter’s, bringing his hand to my lap.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Though it was only the second time we had held hands, there was something about the way our fingers entwined that felt as if they belonged together. I expected him to pull away, but his hand stayed there for as long as it took the sun to completely vanish. And for the first time, he seemed as at peace as the wide-open space of rock that lay before him. Like he was finally letting go of all the bad. Maybe that’s what I was doing, too.

When the sun had fully disappeared, our hands untangled, and we climbed into the truck. It didn’t take long before I fell into a light sleep. The fleeting lights of passing cars and a gentle bump in the road caused my eyes to open, and I found myself resting against Peter’s right shoulder. I slowly sat up and groaned, placing my hand over my belly, and leaned back.

“ You alright?”

“I think you were right. I shouldn’t have had that third taco.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Tell that to the baby,” I said, catching him rubbing behind his ear. “Why do you do that?”

“ Do what?”

“Rub your ear.”

“I do that?”

“Yeah. I think you do it when you’re thinking real hard about somethin’. Kinda like a tell.”

A smile grew on his face as he focused on the road.

“What? Am I right? I am right, aren’t I?”

“It’s just ... you really do surprise me every day, Grace. You really do,” he said, his voice soft. He glanced over and scratched the back of his neck as the red hue on his cheeks deepened.

“ I do?”

“Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”

“You just didn’t strike me as someone who could be easily surprised.”

“ Me, either.”

I smiled and looked away. We continued down the frontage road, two and a half miles from the highway, until I spotted the Motel 6 in the distance. The exterior was plain and simple, living up to its unpretentious reputation. Only five cars had taken up the dozen or so empty spots in front of the poorly maintained entrance, lowering my expectations for a clean room. A gated pool was off to the right. To any insect with a milky exoskeleton this place would be a paradise to harvest and build their nest. I leaned forward and eyed the flickering M above the roof, the rusty sidings, and then looked back at the M. We parked in the last spot near the front of the office.

“Do we really need to stay here?”

“Do you wanna sleep in the truck?” he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You comin’ in?”

I shook my head.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Harley stood on the center console, watching Peter head into the office. An older woman sat behind the desk, and she turned her attention to him, smiling. Harley whined. “He’ll be back.” I dove my hand into the plastic bag. Harley’s ears perked, sniffing. His tail wagged as I took out the bag of liver treats. “You want a treat?” I opened the bag, and he sat down before gobbling the treat out of my hand.

Looking over, I saw Peter walking outside, putting the room key safely in his back pocket. He opened the passenger door, and I carefully started to lower myself down. Every part of my body ached, and the bottoms of my feet stung in defiance from the extra weight of my belly.

“Hey, how are your feet doing?”

“ They hurt.”

“Here, put your arm around me,” he insisted, and I did just that as he lifted me with ease. Though it was short-lived, the relief of having the weight off my feet was great. He set me down on the pavement.

“When we get into the room, you should prop them up on a pillow. Okay?” Peter stepped further back to take a closer look at my complexion. “You fine to walk?” he asked. I nodded.

“Alrighty, I’m gonna get the bags.”

“You need any help?”

“No, I got it. How about you just take care of you right now? Your feet hurt. I’ll be fine.”

Harley jumped outside and patiently waited by my side as we watched Peter throw the duffle bag and my backpack over his shoulder, yawning. He stepped onto the sidewalk, still somehow managing to take out the motel key from his back pocket. “Room three. I like those odds,” he said, catching the key mid air. I smiled. He wrapped his left arm around me, bringing me to his side as he gently kissed the top of my head. I looked up at him, stunned, and his cheeks flushed red in realization, swiftly pulling back his arm. He flashed me a toothy, awkward grin and shoved one hand in the pockets of his jeans, clearing his throat. “Sorry, uh, I think the room is down here.”

With Harley between us, we started walking. Peter looked over his shoulder every few seconds. At the end of the sidewalk, he took out the room key and unlocked the door, but it didn’t budge when he tried to open it. He exhaled and set down our belongings. A loud thud shook through the air as he barged straight into it with the side of his shoulder. He stepped back, impressed, and slinged the straps of our bags over his shoulder.

“Huh, still got the touch.”

I bit my bottom lip to stifle a laugh.

A neighbor’s door swung open, and a petite old lady stuck her face out, standing there in her pink floral nightgown with rollers in her hair.

“ Oi, guero, cálmate! Más tranquilo , okay?”

“ Lo siento, se?ora, no volverá a pasar ,” Peter replied politely. “ La puerta estaba atascada .”

The woman’s brows raised, and she seemed just as stunned as I was. She hesitated before heading back into her room, muttering, “ Sabelotodo ,” and slammed the door shut. I looked at Peter.

“What did she say?”

“Well, she doesn’t like me that much, I can tell ya.”

I snorted and laughed, walking past him into the room, desperate to rest my feet. Harley trotted inside and explored his new surroundings before finding a spot on the queen-size bed. Peter shut the door behind me and turned the lock. I willed my mind to not think of the dirty corners of the bathtub or the lifting baseboards, welcoming any small critter with open arms. The sound of Peter turning the lock again caused me to look back. After the third time, he finally was able to pull himself away, setting the duffle bag on the chair beside the entertainment center. I stared at the painted beige walls, red shag carpeting, and a TV so old I was certain if I tried plugging it in, I would be electrocuted.

“So, um ...”

“I’ll take the chair or floor. You can have the bed.” He sat down at the small kitchen table alongside the single-paned window.

“But it’s ... dirty. And I don’t think that chair has been cleaned since this hotel was built.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”

I looked at him. He regarded me, seeming to wait for the inevitable question. Choosing to ignore it, I set my backpack on the duvet. Peter began to untie his boots but cautiously glanced at me every several seconds. The awkward silence was entirely different this time from what I had experienced that night with Mason. We never uttered a word, and if our eyes did catch each other’s, Mason would always shyly smile before stuffing his face with another greasy drumstick. But this. This was intense. As if we were both treading in new territory. Peter kicked off the second boot and cleared his throat, fiddling with his left ear.

“ Grace.”

“ Yeah?”

“ You alright?”

“I think I’m gonna get some ice,” I said. “It will help me cool off.” I grabbed the ice bucket from the side table.

“Want me to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just down the sidewalk.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll just take a shower then.”

“ Okay.”

We stood there in the middle of the room, staring at each other. A thick swallow passed through his throat, and his eyes set on my face. My heart raced in anticipation. For what, though?

“ Peter.”

“ Right, yeah.”

He hastily stepped to the side, and I opened the door to head outside, but not before catching a glimpse of the bathroom door shutting. The cool air was just what I needed to empty my mind. I headed down the hall to the ice machine. Laughter bounced off the walls. It was then I saw three teenage boys in swim trunks racing to the pool. I opened the bin and scooped the ice cubes into the bucket.

“Hey, did you just git here? Haven’t seen a pretty girl like you around,” a boy said. I looked over and saw a tall lanky boy with kind blue eyes. “My buddy just turned the big two-one. We’re gonna swim. Drink some beer. You wanna join?”

“No. Thanks, though.”

I shut the bin, facing him. His face fell the moment he lowered his attention to my belly, and his eyes bulged like big white gumballs. He stammered and quickly walked away, scratching the back of his neck.

Harley greeted me with excited eyes when I returned to the room. I set the ice bucket on the table and found myself standing at the bathroom door, listening to the running water. It felt as if I had regressed to the times I would wait outside Mama’s bedroom door, pleading for her to listen about my day. I wanted to tell Peter about what had just happened. I wanted to tell him many things. A rush of air escaped from me at the realization. Though my mama never took my words to heart, I knew, in every way, no matter how big or small, that Peter always listened. That I would never have to ask for his permission to tell him anything. And that’s what frightened me the most about him.

“Peter,” I blurted.

“Yeah? You okay?”

My lungs finally inhaled a much-needed breath. What was I about to do? What do I even say now?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I rested my head on the door, shutting my eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you again for today.”

There were moments when I could hear the hesitance behind his strong voice. See the uncertainty flashing through his eyes whenever he found me looking at him. Even now I could feel all those things despite the hollow wood door between us. Though I wished for it, I knew deep down it was just a childish fantasy. Wetness pooled at the corners of my eyes. I blinked it away, allowing the feeling to seep into me.

“ You’re welcome.”