After Ever (2 page)

“Coleman… Coleman… Coleman…” she mutters. Her head pops back up. “Do you mean Thomas Coleman?”

“No, I mean Winnifred Coleman,” I repeat patiently. I have checked into enough hotels over the past year to have the routine down pat.

“Oh there you are!” she chirps. “Room two twelve. Second floor. How many room keys will you be needing for your stay?”

“Just one.” As if I would trust Brian with a key. He stirs beside me, already bored. I point to the big moose head. “Go over and say hello.” I give his shoulder a gentle push. “That’s Max the moose. He won’t bite.” Brian wanders off and I turn my attention back to the receptionist.

“I have you down for six nights and seven days,” she says.

“That sounds about right,” I grimace.

A few more clicks, the familiar whirr of a printer, and she slides the room contract across the desk and says, “Now I just need your autograph!”

Maybe optimistic customer service people aren’t such a good thing. Blondie is so sweet I can feel a cavity growing inside my mouth just listening to her. Not wanting to delay the process any further, I sign my name without looking and push the contract towards her. My right foot begins to tap, a sure sign my patience is growing thin. 

“And I will just need to see a form of identification before I can give you your key,” she says.

I rummage through the purse on my hip for a copy of my student ID and pass it across the desk. The receptionist’s smile falters as she tips the ID towards her.

“Oh…” she says, looking at the picture stamped on the left hand corner and then back up at me. “When, ah, was this photograph taken?”

I know what she is looking at. Haven’t I seen her expression duplicated a hundred times before on a hundred different faces? My friends at school. My relatives. My own father. Only Brian looks at me like always did; like nothing ever changed. Like I don’t look any different. I really need to get an up to date picture taken. I’m tired of seeing the same stupid expression over and over again. 

“A year ago,” I inform her coolly. “It was taken just about a year ago.”

The receptionist smiles as she hands me my ID and the key to room two twelve, but her nose doesn’t tip up and the corners of her eyes don’t wrinkle.

Such a shame you did that to yourself. You were so pretty and normal. Well, you
are
from the city.

Yeah, because they don’t have hair dye and piercing studios in the country. Idiot.

“Thanks so much.” I bend and lift up my bag.

“We have a continental breakfast every morning in the dining hall which is right around the –”

“I know where it is,” I interrupt her. And then, because I’m feeling just a little mean, I say, “I’ve been coming here thirteen years now. Always a different receptionist. I hope they keep you longer than they did the last one.”

Her smile turns brittle. “Yes well, I hope you have a wonderful stay with us. My name is Bridget. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to call down to the front desk. We look forward to making your stay a pleasant one.”

“Whatever,” I mumble under my breath. I feel guilty for being so rude, but it’s not as if I am ever going to see her again. At least not after this week is up. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said there has been a new receptionist every time we come. I don’t know if they quit for get fired, and I don’t really care. Everything changes. Nothing ever stays the same. Not for long.

Bypassing the elevator, I head for the stairwell around the corner. Brian catches up to me as I step through the door. He is sweaty and out of breath, his round cheeks flushed with color.

“You were going to leave me!” he accuses.

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” I say automatically, even though I did completely forget about him, at least for a second. Being rude to the receptionist
and
forgetting my own brother. This vacation is starting off on a great note. 

“You were.” Brian sniffs back tears. “You were too! I know it.”

“All you had to do was ask the lady at the front desk what room I was staying in, dummy. It’s time you started looking out for yourself.”

“I’m only five years old,” he points out logically. “I’m not s’pposed to look out for myself.”

You’re right
, I think silently as I lead the way up the stairs and then down the hall to our room,
your parents are supposed to look out for you. Bad luck for you, pal.

I turn on all the light switches as I enter room two twelve. In his haste to explore his new surroundings Brian tries to push past me, by the doorway is too narrow and the corner of his bag crashes into my ankle.

“Son of a bitch!” I curse, hopping on my good foot while I clutch the bad. “Watch where you’re going!”

“It was an axi-dent,” Brian whimpers. His lower lip trembling he backs away from me and abruptly bursts into tears.

I pick up his bag and throw it across the room. It bounces against the side of the bed and falls to the carpet. Swearing again, I hobble into the bathroom and slam the door behind me. Brian begins to wail in earnest, so I take the hair dryer from its wall holder and turn it on full blast. The noise muffles his cries, allowing me to inspect my ankle in relative peace.

I kick out of my sneakers and prop my foot up on the edge of the toilet. The skin around my ankle has already started to swell. I can roll it in a circle, which means nothing is broken, but it still hurts like hell.

The long mirror above the sink catches my reflection. I look myself straight in the eye, refusing to flinch from the stranger who glares silently back at me.

This stranger has long black hair twisted into thick ropey dreadlocks. Her skin is pale, the hollows under her eyes tinged with purple. Her silver piercings flash white gold under the fluorescent lights and her tongue pokes out to lick at the hoop in her lip. Miniature blue stars peek out along the curve of her hairline and disappear behind her right ear. They are not her only tattoo, simply the most visible. This stranger is too skinny, too gangly, too dark, too everything. This stranger does not smile or laugh. She is sarcastic and rude, this stranger, and if I knew her I wouldn’t be friends with her. I wouldn’t even give her a second glance.

“You look like shit,” the stranger says. Our lips move together to form the same words.

“I know,” I say.

“And you’re treating your brother like crap.”

“I
know
.”

“Don’t be such a jerk. He lost his mom too.”

“He doesn’t remember her.”

“His hands say otherwise.”

I tip my head towards the blue eyed stranger and whisper, “Touché.”    

Brian is curled up asleep on the twin bed closest to the window when I finally emerge from the bathroom. I have wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and my skin is still pink and damp from the hot shower I took. I set my bag on top of the wooden bureau next to the television and begin to unpack. A quick glance at the alarm clock on top of the nightstand reveals it is 5:17PM. My dad and Girlfriend #3 are probably getting ready to go down to dinner. The resort has its own restaurant built in and an all you can eat seafood buffet on Sunday nights. Even though I love lobster, I decide to order room service. Brian is just about the only person I can handle tonight.

When someone knocks on the door twenty minutes later I mute the TV and hobble across the room as fast as I can go, eager to devour my extra cheese and meatball sub. Brian is still sleeping, but I know he’ll like his spaghetti and sauce when he wakes up. Maybe he’ll even forgive me for swearing at him.

I open the door. In the blink of an eye, my eagerness is replaced by sullenness. “What do you want?” I ask.

Girlfriend #3 stands in the hallway. She has exchanged her mini skirt for a pair of shiny black tights and a red silk shirt (something that short does not classify as a dress) that barely skims her thighs. A gold belt loops around her model thin waist and her blond hair falls down her shoulders in such perfectly tousled waves I begin to wonder if she wears a wig.

“Your father wants you and your brother to join us for dinner,” she says. There is no sweet endearing smile on her face now. Without my dad as a witness Girlfriend #3 is one nasty lady.

“No thanks.” I go to shut the door. She surprises me by wedging one high heeled boot against the doorframe. I never would have thought she would risk scratching genuine leather.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” she says. “Either come to dinner with us or don’t eat at all.”

I blink. One thing is for sure. Girlfriend #3 would make an excellent evil stepmother. “Seriously? I ordered room service like half an hour ago.”  

Her red lips twist into an unflattering sneer. “I can’t wait to ship you and that brat off to boarding school.”

Since I called that one a month or so back, I have to feign my surprise. “Boarding school? Oh please no! I’ll do anything, I promise. Anything!” I’m probably over doing it, but Girlfriend #3 looks smug, not annoyed, which means she’s buying my theatrics hook, line, and sinker. What a moh-ron.

“That’s what I thought. Now go get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes. And do something with your hair.” Her green eyes, courtesy of colored contacts, narrow to slits. “It looks like something crawled on top of your head and died.”

“I will go do that right now,” I say, all sorts of agreeable. Anything to get her out of my face.

She turns to go. Pauses. “You could be pretty you know,” she says generously. “If you didn’t wear all that awful makeup and took out those piercings you would look almost normal.”

“You really think so?”

“Sure,” she says. “I have some old clothes at home I was going to donate to Good Will. You can have them if you want.”

“That would be
amazing
.”

“I’m not as awful as you think I am, Winnifred. Your father and I love each other. It’s time you came to accept that before you drive him away.”

I want to punch her nose right off her face. Instead I bite my lower lip and try my best to look forlorn. “I will try really hard. It’s just… you know… tough to see him with someone else he really cares about. Since my mom passed away and everything.”

Fake sympathy all but oozes out of her perfect pores as she says, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

A laugh bubbles up, threatening to ruin everything. I choke it back down, determined to play my part of woebegone teenager to the hilt. “It’s just… it’s just so hard. You know this is where my parents came on their honeymoon, don’t you? And every year after that. They started getting me my own room when I turned ten so they could… you know.” My eyebrows wiggle up and down. “They used to be so loud I could hear them from across the hall and once they didn’t come out of their room for two days. Cool, huh?”

“You’re disgusting,” Girlfriend #3 snaps.

“See you at dinner,” I smile.

“I will tell Thomas you’re sick.”

Our eyes clash, hold, slide apart. She steps back and I quietly shut the door. I’ve won this round, but there will be others. Girlfriend #3 isn’t like the rest. For all her stupidity she’s smart too, and determined. She thinks my dad is her meal ticket to a better life. Can’t she see how miserable the three of us are? You can’t buy your way out of misery, even though my dad is giving it his shot.

Room service arrives five minutes later. I wake up Brian and we eat our food in bed watching Jeopardy. I run him a bath and use the blow dryer to dry his hair straight up, which makes him giggle. After, when he is in his yellow duck pajamas and tucked into bed, I rub Vaseline all over his dry, chapped hands. I try not to look at the reddened flesh, but I can still feel it under my fingers. Bit by bit my brother is turning into an alligator.

“You have to stop sucking on your fingers,” I say firmly.

His chin quivers. “I try really hard Winnie. I just can’t.”

“You need to try harder. You’re only five, so the kids in preschool are going to cut you a break. But pretty soon they’re going to start singling out the dorks and the geeks and weird kids.” I nudge his knee with my knee and he looks up. “You don’t want to be one of the weird kids, Bri. A dork or a geek is okay. But not a weird kid. You understand?”

“But you’re a weird kid.”

“Yeah and look how well I turned out.”

Those three familiar lines appear on his forehead as he mulls it over. Finally he nods and says, “I’ll try not to be like you.”

“Thatta boy. Listen, I forgot my walkman in the car and I have to go get it. You’re going to stay here and not open the door for anyone, even if they sound like Dad. Got it?”

“What about Trish?” he asks.

“Who is – oh yeah. Nope, not for her either.
Especially
not for her. I have a key so I’ll be able to let myself back in. It will only take a few minutes. See if you can get final Jeopardy right.” I can tell Brian doesn’t like the idea of being left on his own, but he doesn’t argue with me.

I open the bureau that I stuffed all my clothes into and pull out a ratty black sweatshirt. Like a lot of my clothes, it is three sizes too big and falls nearly to my knees. I pull the hood up and take the room card and two dollars out of my wallet. There is a vending machine at the end of the hallway and I have been craving a candy bar.

“I’ll be right back,” I promise Brian. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

He smiles at me, all innocent and sweet and loving. To him I am the whole world. It should make me feel wonderful, but all I really feel is smothered.

CHAPTER TWO

Snow has covered everything in a fine white powder by the time I step outside. I glance behind me to see what type of footprints my sneakers have left, but the sneakers are so old the tread has been worn to the quick. I stomp extra hard to make my mark.

The front of the parking lot is lit up from towering light posts, making it easy to spot the rented silver Volvo amidst the other cars. My footsteps are muffled as I walk briskly towards it. It is the newest version. A keyless entry. I type the number code I saw my dad use at the start of our trip into the tiny panel just under the driver’s side handle. The parking lights flash and the handle releases towards me. I pop the locks and open the back door.