The first thing that caught my eye about the Anchor Motel was an outside staircase leading to the rooms. This wasn’t like the hotels I was used to, but when I booked the reservation, the only amenities I’d been looking for were a bed, Wi-Fi, and, after a quick online search, no noted visits from the Board of Health. The whole place had a gaudy, outdated feel to it that didn’t come through on their website. Even at night, it was hard to miss the aqua trim on the windows and pink rails along the steps.
The hotel pool was huge and was chock-full of what looked like drunken college kids. It filled me with both nostalgia and despair since my days of bringing along a red Solo cup for a swim were so far behind me, I hardly remembered them.
As much as I tried to, I couldn’t pinpoint when all the fun in my life had circled the drain. Or, as Trent pointed out before I shut the door behind me, when I’d become a cold fish who no one could get close to.
So far, my vacation was a pity party for one.
I made my way to what looked like the main office to check in and get my room key. The simple, old school feel of the Anchor reminded me of my childhood trips to Lake George. My extended family would make the pilgrimage from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn to the scenic upstate town every August. My cousins and I had loved staring at the pool though our window and making a game out of spotting the midnight swimmers. Now, I hoped my room had thick enough curtains and blinds to prevent others from seeing in.
“Hello, dear.” A portly man with a full head of white hair greeted me with a warm smile after I tapped on the silver bell at the front desk. “Checking in?”
“Yes.” It came out like a “God, yes.” “Caterina Longo. I just made the reservation today.” I jerked my chin toward the computer. I didn’t want to seem unfriendly, but getting into my room and passing out on the queen-sized bed I’d reserved was my only priority.
“Ah, here you are.” He nodded and reached over to the wall, grabbing a lime green keychain off one of the pegs.
A key? An actual key? I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I had a real, metal hotel key. I always lost my key cards and had to get new ones programmed from the front desk every single vacation or business trip. If I lost this key, replacing it would involve a locksmith.
“Room 326, just up the stairs in the front.” He grinned at me before pointing his finger toward the staircase.
“Thank you. Oh, and the Wi-Fi password?”
“Of course.” He nodded with a grin. My clients usually took Fridays off in the summer, allowing me a lovely and quiet day to catch up. Unless I wanted to work at the rental next week, and I had no doubt Megan hadn’t been kidding about hiding my laptop, I’d need to get online tomorrow. And I hadn’t seen a Starbucks for three exits prior to my arrival. I bristled at the thought of more hours in the car.
“Anchor is the login, password is anchor12345.” He pulled a paper from the desk with the information printed on it. “Easy to remember, but we print these, anyway.”
I nodded a thank you and tried to summon the energy to pull my large suitcase up three flights of stairs.
“Have a good evening, Ms. Longo. Oh, and just a warning. Sometimes, the Wi-Fi is spotty around the hotel, and guests complain about low signal in the rooms. The restaurant across the street, The Beach Pub, has a nice strong signal and is open late. I know how you young folk need your computers and phones.”
I mouthed a “thank you” before leaving the office, chuckling to myself at being referred to as “young folk.”
Before climbing the stairs to my room, my gaze again lingered a moment on the crowd around the pool. When was the last time I’d made time for my friends and had fun? I needed this.
A bright light in my periphery caught my gaze as I made my way to the staircase. My head swiveled toward a flashing “No Vacancy” sign in bright pink neon letters. It had the same effect as high-beam headlights would on my dried-up contact lenses. The Anchor was definitely a throwback to generations before me. I laughed to myself, thankful I’d made it under the wire and was able to secure a room before it was too late.
Rushing up the steps before any of the swimmers could call me “ma’am,” I shoved my key in the door, jiggling it in the lock a few times before it would open.
I flicked on the light switch and dumped my suitcase and purse on the floor. Grabbing my phone, I finally read the plethora of texts that I’d muted on my way here. Despite my resolve, I paused when I spied Trent’s name.
Trent:I know you didn’t really head to the shore. Point made. It’s been hours.
Point made?After bouncing the phone on my bed, I fell back and draped my hand over my eyes. How could I have been so blind for so damn long? There wasn’t an ounce of concern in Trent’s text. Not an “I’m sorry” or an “Are you okay?” He didn’t even believe I’d really left. I tried to remember the last time we’d had sex or a time when affection had gone beyond a peck on the lips before heading out the door. I came up empty. Maybe Trent was right. I was too caught up in work and planning for my future that I forgot to pay attention to the present.
Rising up on my elbows, I scanned the tiny room as I worried a stray thread on the bedspread between my fingers. This was the most “in the moment” I’d been in a long time. With no buzz from my phone or ping from my computer signaling another email, the quiet lifted the fog I’d been under for so long. Maybe a weekend alonewouldhelp me figure things out—like what I wanted out of life. If all I cared about was my job, why did Trent’s betrayal bother me so much? Maybe it was more bruised ego than broken heart that had pushed me out the door. When I thought of what kind of person that made me, a wave of nausea crawled up my throat.
“Ugh, you have to be kidding me,” I groaned, spying the tiny lone signal bar in the corner of my phone screen. I could ignore it and climb into bed or venture across the street to the restaurant with the good Wi-Fi. My eyes darted from the bed to the door and back again. Grabbing my lime green keychain and my purse, I headed out the door and down the stairs.
If I wanted more out of life, maybe this crazy weekend all by myself could be the first step.
2
Caterina
My legs wobbledfrom either exhaustion or plummeting blood sugar when I pulled open the door to The Beach Pub. My body finally remembered needing silly things like food and sleep.
Until today, I’d never believed it was truly possible to forget to eat. Since I was a kid, I’d count the minutes until lunch, especially during those dark times when I’d attempt to diet. I could add not eating for an overextended period of time to my list of firsts today.
The place was empty. I supposed it wasn’t surprising for this hour on a Thursday night, and, from the little I knew about Ocean Cove, New Jersey, it didn’t exactly strike me as a party-all-night type of town. My friends had booked a rental here because it was an up-and-coming shore destination that had grown in popularity the past few summers. It was only a short distance from the main beach towns I’d vacationed in during my younger years, but I’d honestly never heard of it until Megan and Claire asked me to stay at the rental house they’d found. If my hotel was any indication, people had been vacationing here for years.
