Sleeping with the Frenemy (6 page)

Deborah sat outside the station waiting for her train to come. Spending the next seventy-two hours on a train wasn't her idea of fun, but then again, being punched in the face and having your mother's life threatened wasn't either.

Taking out the cell phone from her pocket, she flipped it open and thumbed the keyboard. Taking a deep breath, she punched in the number that had been embedded in her head and held the phone against her ear as it rang.

After the third rang, someone picked up. They didn't speak right away and wouldn't until Deborah did.

“Hello, Gilberto,” she said in greeting.

“Hello. How's the baby doing?”

Deborah released a shaky breath upon hearing Gilberto's voice. “The baby is okay. How's your sister's employer?”

“She's upset and won't leave her bed because she's lost someone very dear to her. Right now she's sleeping from the pills the doctor has given her.”

Deborah fisted her hand on her knee. They had decided to use Teresa as code for Genevieve's name to be safe. From what Gilberto told her, Genevieve had learned of her death.

“And when everything is settled, when will you and Teresa take your vacation?”

“As soon as possible. I take it your vacation will be a safe one?”

“Yes. It looks like it will be.” Deborah wanted to know more about Genevieve, but her time was limited since the train had entered the station and passengers were getting on.

“Be very careful,
mi amiga querida
,” Gilberto warned gently.

Deborah closed her eyes. She'd miss Gilberto and Teresa, the only real friends she had for the past few years. “I will, my friend.” Deborah ended the call.

Getting up from the bench, she grabbed her suitcase and as she walked over to the train that would take her far away, she threw the phone into a nearby garbage can.

She walked onto the train toward her sleeping compartment. This was a start of a new life for her, one where she wouldn't jump at shadows or live in fear every time she might have done something Genevieve thought she did wrong.

From now on Genevieve would no longer consume her every waking thought. Deborah would live for herself and no one else.

* * * *

When she stepped off the train at the Woodberry Creek train station three days later, it was like she'd come home. She hadn't been to the town since her parents had moved to the West Coast before she was born. But hearing her mother's stories of growing up in the small town straight out of the movie
The Music Man
, she felt as if she'd lived there as well.

No one came to meet her, unlike the other passengers sharing greetings from family and friends who put their luggage into the trunks of their cars and drove away to their respective homes. After staying in the air-conditioned train for so long, Deborah's head ached and her eyes and inside of her nose were dry. The air here was thicker and she felt rank and worn out since she hadn't showered or barely slept. She was still too nervous, or perhaps it was the thrill of being on her own that made her jittery.

A soft summer breeze brushed over her face, that felt like it was going to crack into a thousand pieces. Her makeup had begun to flake off and her fingers were disgusting, with her nails bitten down to the quick. She needed to find a place to spend a few nights, take a nice long shower, and sleep undisturbed before she decided on her next move.

Deborah walked down the stairs where at the bottom the bathrooms awaited her. She glanced around, noticing no one around, and poked her head inside the women's room. The room was empty, with three stalls and two sinks. She went into the first stall and quickly changed. Gone was her masculine wear, replaced with a pair of black capris and a short-sleeved yellow T-shirt. When she exited the stall, she used one of the hotel towels she'd snatched back at the hotel, and used soap to wash away the grime from her face and hands. The water turned murky brown as her makeup fell off her face and down the drain. She rubbed her face almost raw and even went so far as to stick her head under the water to cool off.

Afterward, she took out her contacts and viewed herself in the mirror. Splotches of red covered her face and throat, but for the most part, she hadn't done any permanent damage. The only lasting marks were the scars she had on the right side of her head and a fading black-and-blue near the corner of her mouth, opposite her birthmark. Her lip wasn't swollen any longer and when she poked her stomach, it didn't sting.

“Aren't you one sexy bi-otch, Sharon?” Deborah announced, testing her new name and softly laughed as she pushed out her chest, her nipples poking through as they tended to do at any moment ever since she hit puberty.

The door swung open and a woman walked in holding a toddler. Deborah quickly left with her suitcase.

* * * *

From the bulletin board covered in fliers, Deborah found an advertisement for a small motel within walking distance. Other than a few cars driving by, no one was on the street and the majority of the businesses were closed. But then again, this wasn't a complete surprise since it was close to midnight.

She came upon the quaint one-story ranch-style motel and walked across the gravel parking lot, her eyes drooping and her jaw cracking from a yawn as she noticed the vacant sign hanging over the front door. She walked inside and a bell rang overhead. An older man with a big bushy white beard and a polo shirt with the motel's name over his right breastbone sat behind the front desk.

“Well, hello there, little lady. How may I help you?”

Deborah covered her mouth as she yawned again. “Sorry. I've been on a train for a few days and just got off. Would you have a room available for me?”

The man didn't even look at the computer to see if he had a vacant room. “For you, I have the perfect room. How many nights will you be staying?”

“A week, at least,” Deborah specified.

“Here on vacation?” the man asked as he typed on the computer keyboard.

“I'm visiting friends.” Deborah replied and pulled out a brown leather wallet. “And if it wouldn't be too much of a hassle, I'd like to pay in cash.”

The man's eyebrows matching his beard rose in surprise. Deborah braced herself for the questions at her odd request.

“It's been a while since someone has wanted to pay with cash, but I don't see it being a problem. I'll need to see identification and a credit card for a deposit in case you do charge anything. But don't worry, we won't charge the room to the card,” he added quickly.

Deborah took out her new license and credit card, the only one she had connected to her back account. She shifted from one leg to the other as the man took both cards and entered the information into the computer. After what felt like an hour, he handed back both cards, as well as the hotel card key.

“Your room is 118, right smack in the middle, facing the parking lot. We have a continental breakfast in the morning from seven to ten and the pool is around back. When you finally leave us, you can pay your bill. Do you need help with your luggage?”

“No, thanks. I got it covered. Have a good night,” Deborah said and waved as she left.

She could feel the man's eyes on her back as she walked out but she didn't turn back around. When she got into her room, she glanced over her shoulder, making certain no one watched her. She locked the door and pulled the wooden table near the window, placing it in front of the door. She closed the drapes without bothering to turn on the light.

The bed looked inviting and the slight scent of roses filled the room as she pulled off her sneakers and capris and unhooked her bra. Wearing only her white cotton briefs and T-shirt, she pulled down the covers, sliding under them. The minute she closed her eyes, she fell asleep.

* * * *

There was no reason for Deborah to get out of bed. Her body wouldn't move, even though she needed to pee badly. She wanted to remain huddled under the covers, so cozy, as the air in the room was perfect enough for her to be comfortable. She'd always loved that feeling of being covered in a sheet or blankets with the air on, even during the hottest days of summer. Gen never let her sleep in.

Rolling on her back, she wiped her eyes, trying to erase her wife, or rather her former wife, from her head. She'd been doing so well not thinking of her, but thoughts of Gen would sneak up on her. Her thighs clenched as she thought back to the last time she'd been with Gen in bed. Not only did her head feel like a balloon and her eyes gritty from too much sleep, but she was horny. She'd been depriving her body the release she needed for days. Going from having sex every day, sometimes twice a day, to none at all was wreaking havoc on her, physically and mentally.

Gen, I miss you so much… No! I can't go there…wanting her. She's poison.

Loud banging and muted conversation outside her room made her sit up. The room spun for a moment as Deborah brought it into focus. The light from the slit in the drapes and underneath the door allowed her to see. At least she had the presence of mind to put the
Do Not Disturb
sign outside her door.

As much as she wanted to stay in her room and sleep, she needed to get up. First a shower, then she'd find something to eat on her way to check her balance in her bank account. Then—she had no clue. Maybe she'd investigate the town, and if she didn't freak herself out with her paranoia, she'd see if there were any apartments or houses she could rent.

A home. Her own to furnish the way she wanted and laze around in all day if she longed to, even naked, with no worry of someone telling her no, or expecting her to act a certain way in the eyes of the help.

Pushing aside the covers, she stretched her arms high above her head, cracking her neck from side to side. Today was her day to do whatever she'd like. Today stood for freedom.

* * * *

Deborah's—or now, Sharon's—official first day of independence had started out well, with a nice hot shower where she masturbated until she came loudly. That helped her relax immensely. But by the time she fixed her flat hair that really needed some sort of mousse or gel, and dressed in another boring plain T-shirt-and-capris ensemble, the headache lurking in back of her head came on full force. Her hunger pains also turned to cramps. All these signs predicted her period. Unfortunately she'd didn't have anything she needed, no pills for her discomfort or tampons to stop the flow that would come in the next few hours, judging by the spotting she found in her underwear.

Upon opening her door, the bright sun blinded her, making her headache even worse than it already was. At least she had her sunglasses to block the light. She needed pills to numb the pain, tampons, caffeine, and some sort of sustenance before she started gnawing on her nails again.

The sight of Woodberry Creek in the daylight was very different from when she'd first arrived. The street in front of her bustled with cars and people. The stores were open and the smell of baked pastries called out to her. Maybe she would go up to the front desk and ask for a map or advice on where to go
.

Aha! She spotted a drugstore called Meede's on the corner to her right. She patted down her pockets where her wallet and hotel room key were, and started walking that way.

The walk took her less than ten minutes and when she opened the door, a bell rang.
What's with this town and bells?
Shaking her head, she glanced up at the signs above the aisles to find what she wanted. First she grabbed a bottle of Midol, then went in search of her favorite brand of tampons.

Seeing she was all alone, she opened the Midol bottle, and quickly swallowed three of the blue pills without water. Yellow-black dots had appeared in front of her eyes, warning a migraine was imminent unless she took the pills. She'd also buy a hot water bottle while she was there, just in case her cramps became too much.

There were too many brands of tampons to count—all except the ones she wanted. “How can they not have the tampons I like?” Deborah muttered irritably, and as she leaned down to pick up a box of tampons on sale, a breezy female voice spoke beside her.

“You know, you shouldn't bend over like that. You might pull your back. I also recommend Meede's tampons over the ones you're picking. The ones you're about to choose can be too bulky, if you catch my meaning.”

Deborah stood up too fast, wincing as a pain shot down her spine. She arched her back for a moment, holding the box she was going to buy along with the bottle of pills that fell out of her hand and dropped to the ground. The blue tablets puddled over the floor.

“Great.” Deborah rubbed her palm over her face and started to kneel down when a hand landed on her arm. She sprang away from the touch.

“Sorry about that. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal space. Stay where you are. I'll clean this up.”

The woman sat down on her heels and picked up the pills. Deborah couldn't see her, face and only the top of her head encircled in different shades of blinding red curls.

She almost started to walk away, but then the woman, who came a few inches past her chin, smiled ruefully and held out the bottle. Deborah quickly scanned the petite, close-to-plump woman wearing a short denim skirt and a sleeveless white button-down shirt with matching white sandals displaying her magenta-colored toes.

“Um, thanks,” Deborah said hesitantly, trying her best not to touch the woman as she took back the bottle. The woman with the bright red hair gave her a big smile, her lips too wide for her face. Deborah wouldn't say she was attractive—perhaps passingly pretty at the most, with very noticeable curves in all the right places.

“Don't worry about the spill. Timmy won't chase you away for making a mess.”

“Timmy?” Deborah asked carefully.

“Timmy's the owner. He just took over the business since his father just retired. Meede's been here since the beginnings of the town back in the late nineteenth century,” the chatterbox broadcasted with great enthusiasm.

“Are you an employee here?” All Deborah wanted to do was buy her medicine and her tampons and leave.

The annoyingly cheery woman laughed loudly and shook her head. “I haven't worked here since high school. I'm a teacher at the elementary school.” The woman held out her hand. “I'm Bridgette Woodberry.”