Chapter 3
I root through my bag, and pop both my medications into my mouth.
I wash the little blue and white pills down with my water that tastes a little bit like plastic.
This should be totally routine for me now, but it still feels strange knowing my entire sanity depends on something I could crush between my fingers.
At any rate, I walk towards the door, desperate to put on a fresh pair of pants.
I didn’t shower last night because of the mildew in the tub and I slept in the same outfit I wore all day as I was too tired to change.
My suitcase, haphazardly zipped, is left wedged underneath the door handle to prevent any possible intruders.
After I un-wedge it, and unzip just enough to fit my arm through.
I pull out the first t-shirt and pair of pants I can get my grubby fingers on.
Tossing them over my shoulder, and I head towards the bathroom.
I stare at myself in the mirror in the fluorescent light.
I look like a tangle of a person, my hair lopsided and mangled.
The bags under my eyes are an unhealthy shade of blue and purple.
My lips are peeling with a fresh layer of dead skin, probably from the fact it was dry and freezing in this room overnight.
I make a mental note to maybe get some extra lip balm somewhere along the way.
I turn the sink on and it sputters to life with two bursts of water, like it hadn’t been turned on in ages.
Who knows when the last person to stay in this room was?
The layer of dust accumulating on the carpet and in the closet feels thicker than a wool blanket.
I splash water on my face before fetching my toothbrush and toothpaste to brush my teeth like the good daughter of a dentist that I am.
While I only look marginally better, I certainly feel magnitudes better with a fresh shirt, pants and most importantly, fresh socks.
I fold the sheet over the mattress, and sit on the edge of the bed to put my shoes back on.
While it feels like I’m moving at a snail’s pace, it’s only 8:15am. Is it too early to wake Dean?
I know I have over a whole day, just about 36 hours, to kill before the next performance at The Monarch Resort in Camden, but I’m eager to get to Portland and hopefully get on the road.
I sit on the edge of the bed, debating my options for another fifteen minutes.
As soon as the clock ticks to 8:30, I jolt up.
I make sure my suitcase is zipped and locked, and leave the room.
Lugging the bag, I lightly knock on Dean’s door.
“Dean?” I call for him.
No answer. I knock once more, but with a little more ferocity. Still, no answer.
“Dean!” I call in my best loud whisper, careful to maintain my voice level so as to not disturb the neighbors. As if we had neighbors and were not the only people staying in this decrepit place.
90 seconds pass and I start to get nervous. What if he choked on his puke in the middle of the night? What if he had alcohol poisoning and didn’t wake up? I knock once more on the door for good measure, and still no answer. Even though my body is panicking, I try to stay rational.
What’s the most logical thing to do in this situation? I pace two steps, and immediately decide the best course of action is to have the front desk get the door unlocked and do a wellness check.
I lug the suitcase to the main lobby, where the same woman from last night is still stationed. I approach the counter, walking in a zigzag because of the bum wheel on my suitcase.
“Hi, yes, hello,” I’m huffing, out of breath. “I need you to check on my friend. He went to bed really drunk and I’m worried about him because he’s not answering the door.”
She hesitates as she tries to figure out what I’m asking of her. I just want her to simply unlock the door for me, so I can make sure he’s okay. All I want for him is to be okay. He’s my ride home and out of this mess.
“Can you open the door for me?” I ask, shaking my head up and down, subconsciously willing her to say yes.
“Are you the police?” She asks me.
“Um, no,” I say politely. “But I’m really worried about my friend.”
“Well, we have protocol policy here.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I’m practically begging her.
“I guess I could call the room.”
“Yes, please do that.”
She picks up the phone like it weighs a million pounds, and flips open a big, laminated binder. Thumbing through the pages, she pinpoints a number and dials it into the phone.
It feels like eternity waiting for the phone to ring. The dial tone is deafening, but on the fifth or sixth ring, Dean picks up.
“Hello? Who is this?” His voice is muffled and sleepy.
“Hello. This is Angel at the front desk,” She says. “Your friend…”
“Madeline,” I interject.
“Your friend, Madeline, is here with me.” Angel says, clearly unburdened by my worries.
“My friend?” Dean’s voice is haggard and confused.
“Just give the phone to me,” I insist, but she refuses.
“Are you okay, sir?” Angel asks him.
“I’m fine,” Dean sounds more awake now, but still bedraggled.
“Your friend is fine,” Angel relays to me, even though I heard the whole conversation. She hangs up, and I grimace. At least I know Dean is okay. She drums her fingers on the worn, wooden desk “Have a nice day, now,” Angel says.
Grabbing the handle of the suitcase, I begin dragging it back towards the rooms. By the time I get there, Dean is standing in the hallway, leaning on the door.
He looks dressed and completely polished and not at all like he was totally smashed less than 12 hours ago and is wearing the same clothes from last night.
“What the hell was that?” Dean sounds like he wants to stamp his feet.
“A wake up call?” I’m asking myself that question.
“Don’t do that again.” The wrinkle in his brow is deepening, making a large crevice on his face.
“I was just worried about you,” I say in my defense.
“I told you, I can take care of myself.”
“Okay, I just—”
“Just nothing. Don’t interrupt my sleep again.” My eyes grow wide, and I feel ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. I feel bad about it, but I can’t deny that I’m relieved he’s fine.
“You don’t need to be so freaking neurotic all the time.” His voice is brash and stern, and I bet if there was a puppy here to kick, he would.
“Hey!” I shout now. I know I’m being neurotic, but I don’t want to be called out on it this early in the morning.
Dean shakes his head.
He rubs his temples and I stare at my feet. I know it was a neurotic thing to do.
“But please. Next time, give me more than two minutes to get on my feet,” He says, running his hands through his hair.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Let’s get on the road.”
“Okay,” I say all I can manage. Dean puts on his coat and wraps the scarf jammed in the sleeve tightly around his neck.
He walks towards me, and I feel like cowering in the corner, afraid that he might snap at me again, but he grabs the handle of my suitcase for me and totes it with ease.
I put on my own coat and hug the strap of my tote bag closer to me.
I follow him to the front desk where he checks us out of the inn, and thanks Angel with a smile for her service.
We don’t speak when we get in the car, and we don’t speak when we pull into the gas station around the corner.
This minivan’s gas mileage is practically nonexistent.
I don’t say a word, just handing him my debit card.
I feel a pit in my stomach after getting yelled at, so I pull out my pepto.
I’m about halfway through the packets. “I’m going inside the mini mart.
” I carefully hop out of the van, on the hunt to refill my stash, even though I have another completely full box and bottle in my suitcase.
This is for my tote bag. I don’t want to run out when I need it the most, and the tote bag is easy access.
The bell on the door to the mini mart rings when I push open the door. I pace the entire floor plan of the store and can’t find any pepto, in fact, they don’t seem to sell any medicine in this store. I theorize it must be behind the counter.
In the meantime, I decide to pick out a snack for Dean as a peace offering. I’m stuck on choosing between a banana and a beef jerky stick. Guys like meat, right? But Dean isn’t just any guy. He’s a pharmacist. I resolve to just get both.
Cradling the banana and beef jerky, I ask the burly man behind the counter if they have any medicine. He grunts and begins looking in a basket behind him. He places some options on the counter for me.
I’ve never seen these kinds of pills before, but each package is adorned with a rhinoceros…surrounded by bikini clad women and fireballs. I don’t think this is the kind of medication I’m looking for.
“I don’t think—” I start, but I’m caught off guard by the names like Rhino Blitz Gold and Platinum Rhino 25000. Who oversees naming these things? I hold back a giggle.
“I didn’t know you needed a stronger erection, Madeline.” I hear the voice over my shoulder. Oh, fuck.
“No, no, I don’t, I just…” I trail off, trying to contain myself. “I was looking for stomach medicine.”
The cashier stares at us blankly. “We don’t have that here.”
“You have plenty already,” Dean remarks, placing a banana on the counter. I place my own banana and beef jerky on the counter. “Just this.”
“$4.98.” The cashier tells us.
Dean hands him a crisp $5 bill. I take my banana and now I’m stuck with this beef jerky. Dean leaves his pennies in the TAKE A PENNY OR LEAVE A PENNY tray. Frozen in place, still embarrassed by the rhino pills, I watch him walk towards the door.
“Stop standing there like a tranquilized bear. Let’s go.” He stands stiffly at the door, and he’s had enough of me already. “Come on.”
I look at my feet and will them to move. Dean holds the door open for me, and I exit the store calmly and swiftly. Once I reach the van, I pull on the passenger door handle, but it’s locked. I pull again, still locked.