I look over all of the rooms on the ground floor, seeing if I can point out which room it was that all that chaos occurred. I’m scanning each and every door, when I see a very familiar dark green 4Runner parked in the lot. My brain takes a moment to process why I know that car. It’s not very common because of how fucking old it is. Wait…
No.
It’s probably a coincidence.
That’s what I tell myself when I rip the nozzle out of the tank, and put it back. That’s what I repeat over and over when I climb into my truck and turn out of the gas station, cross the street, and pull into the motel's parking lot, in about thirty seconds flat.
My heart is pounding in my ears. It can’t be her car. Although that little voice in the back of my mind won’t shut the hell up. It’s telling me she’s here. It’s telling me that she felt so alone, so out of options, that she came here. After what that woman in the apartment told me, the pieces start to come together. Ivy found out Rose needed help, then lied so Rose didn’t have to kick her out.
Knowing Rose from Ivy's stories alone, she would’ve never done that.
I find the car in question, and double park behind it. I quickly hop out, and walk over to the driver side window. My heart leaps up into my throat when I look inside. As I peer through the glass, I see the unmistakable flower decorated air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
The muscle in my jaw ticks. Rage, frustration, and something I don’t know how to identify pulse through me. I still feel in denial. Like my mind cannot comprehend that the woman who haunts my every waking thought since the second I’ve laid eyes on her, could be staying here over confiding in me and asking for help.
Would you ask for help?
I throw out a mental “shut up” to my late best friend and mother to my child, then look for more proof that this is Ivy’s car. I cup my hands around my eyes to see through the tinted back window. My daughter’s booster seat stares back at me, confirming my fears and eliminating my self-preserving denial.
I take a steadying breath, and shift my gaze over to the lit up building just ahead. I try to compose myself, and enter the door that reads “Office” with a calm demeanor. When I step through the heavy door, the hinges screech and the bell above the door chimes.
This place has gone down hill.
Would I think that in any other circumstance? Maybe not. Am I being more critical because of my sensitivity pertaining to Ivy’s safety?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
That being said, this place is a fucking shithole.
I see an older man come out of the back office, and up to the desk. I slip my hands into my pockets and approach him.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” he asks.
At least he doesn’t seem dangerous right off of the bat.
“Hi there. My girlfriend asked me to meet her at her room, but I’m not sure which room that is. She’s not answering her phone. Could you point me in the right direction?” I ask, half hoping he gives me the room number without issue, and half hoping he wouldn’t just give out her private information that easily to a strange man.
I’m not too worried, because I’ll bang on every damn door in this place until I find her. But if he can make this process easier, I’d rather not wake the entire motel.
“Her name is Ivy,” I add.
“Oh, yes. Nice girl. She’s over in room twelve. Take a left out of here, and climb the stairs. It’s just on your left,” he replies, smiling.
Mother. Fucker.
I refrain from berating the man until I can get to Ivy. Having the information I need, I nod in thanks and hurry out the door to track down her room. I can only hope she’s not too stubborn to come with me when I tell her to pack her shit.
If she insists on sleeping here, I guess I’m sleeping here too. I’ll sleep outside the goddamn door if I have to. She’s not spending another night alone. I take the stairs two at a time, and walk along a hallway until I see a crooked brass number twelve adorning a paint chipped door.
See? Shithole.
I waste no time and knock loudly on the wooden surface, feeling my nerves buzzing like a live wire. A couple seconds pass, and I knock again, unable to control myself at this point. I see the dark window suddenly light up and a few moments later I hear a lock slowly disengage. The door cracks open a couple inches, restricted by the chain lock. That tiny safety measure does nothing to quell the very intense emotions I’m feeling right now.
Ivy’s beautiful fucking face peeks through the door, locking eyes with me instantly. I watch as her mouth pops open in shock, then as she slams the door right in my face.
23
Ivy
