He grabbed key twelve and quickly tapped the new details into the system before handing her the key. He turned back around to grab the complimentary bottle of wine that was being handed out as part of the weekend promotion. It was cheap and nasty, but she sure looked like she could use a drink.
When Danny turned back to face the woman, the door to the office slammed shut. Her brown hair trailing behind her as she ran in the direction of her room.
He placed the bottle back on the shelf and sat back down on his aged wooden stool, his thoughts thick with worry for the woman. He’d seen his fair share of trouble come in here over the years. Hookers, drug dealers, families, husbands cheating on their wives, wives cheating on their husbands. He’d even had his fair share of women come in crying after a beating from their boyfriends, but this woman—Delores, she was different. In her eyes was a sadness, almost a finality to her life.
She was hauntingly beautiful and yet tragic enough to leave a bitter, dirty taste in his mouth. With a shiver that had more to do with this woman haunting his mind than the air conditioning, he picked back up his newspaper, and skipped to the back page to read about his favourite sports team.
*
Delores stood in the doorway and stared into the small room.
The door swung wide open, bouncing against the wall and made its way back to her. She caught it gently and held it in place, looking the room over once more. A single bed with a moth-eaten cover on top, a small wooden bedside cabinet that probably hadn’t been new when it was placed in this room, and a dresser with an aging TV on top of it. The sagging ceiling was riddled with cobwebs and water stains that promised little in the form of safety if a storm ever hit this place.
She closed the door with a soft click and walked briskly back to her car to retrieve her things. Opening up the trunk, she grabbed the small backpack Michael had packed for her and closed the trunk again before locking it. She avoided looking at the red car next to hers. Her eyes never even glanced at it though she was aware of its burdensome presence.
The backpack was light, only the bare minimum of things packed neatly inside. Just a few items Michael had grabbed for her on the way out the door; toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, and some spare clothes. The most important thing she kept in her purse: a photograph. She kept this item close to her at all times, but she didn’t much care or need for the rest of her things.
Back in her room she placed the backpack on the bed, opened it up and looked inside with a heavy sigh. There was no point in unpacking, and her stomach rumbled as a reminder of what she really needed to do now that she was here. She placed a tentative hand over the painful ache where her stomach was, her fingers digging in to the flesh there and rumpling the loose blouse she wore. Her body felt sticky with sweat and grime, the clothes clinging to her in places she would rather they didn’t and making her feel even more uncomfortable.
She glanced towards the dated bathroom but her stomach grumbled again in annoyance and so she headed back out of the room and towards the small diner. The place was busy, busier than the car park would have led her to believe, and for a moment she contemplated just leaving and heading back to her room because the thought of being surrounded by these happy people was claustrophobic. Besides, what was another night without food really? Another night of stomach cramps and headaches? It was nothing.
It was far less than she deserved for her crime.
Her stomach rumbled in argument. She really was very hungry. Coffee just wasn’t cutting it today and the bite of pie was spoilt in her stomach, making things worse. Her head throbbed, and she hoped that the medication would start to work soon. How long had it been since she took them? Was it time for some more? Her thoughts bounced around in a jumbled mess inside her head, her eyes unfocused as she looked around the restaurant, looking at the happy families, but not truly seeing them. Everything so glaringly bright, and alive. She couldn’t remember what time she had taken her last tablets, only that they had made her feel no better. There was a sickness inside of her, one that medication couldn’t fix. A sickness she couldn’t escape from any longer.
“Table for?” a young girl with a short blonde bob smiled at her, casting her blue eyes behind Delores to see if she was with anyone.
“One, please,” Delores spoke quietly, almost embarrassed for her shortcoming. “Table for one.”
The waitress’s smile never faltered as she grabbed a single cutlery set and menu. “Right this way, ma’am.” She walked off without waiting and Delores scurried after her, her decision to stay being made for her by the brisk waitress.
“This okay?” the waitress asked as she directed Delores to a small round table. Next to the table was another larger one, and at it sat a family of four. A mother, a father, and two children, one girl and one boy. A family much like her own, with only one small exception. The waitress glanced at Delores as she placed the cutlery down and smiled again.
Delores’s eyes flitted nervously to the family. They were a picture of perfection: happy, content, polite children, eating well and behaving how every mother wants their child to behave when out. The husband seemed doting, a loving caring man, if ever there were one. She should have smiled, she wanted to. This family was so lucky, but they weren’t aware of their luck. They had each other and they took it all for granted. The mother looked up, her eyes meeting Delores and widening fractionally as if she were a danger. As if she could sense the shadow of death that hung around Delores’s shoulders like a cloak.
“Can I have a window booth please?” Delores asked quietly, looking away from the mother.
“Oh, umm, sure.” The waitress frowned and scooped the cutlery back up before heading off in another direction leaving Delores to trail after her once more.
They arrived at a window booth, and the waitress stepped to one side to allow Delores to sit. The table was meant for four, and seemed much too big when she slid into the booth, pushing her body as close to the window as she could get. The wide expanse of wood was spread out before her like an abyss, acknowledging that she, Delores Stanton, was thoroughly alone. The waitress placed the cutlery down, handed her a menu and waited patiently.
“What can I get you to start?”
“Coffee please, black,” Delores asked as she took hold of the menu and opened it up. She didn’t want the bitter coffee, but want didn’t matter anymore. She needed the caffeine, needed the heat of it in her body to warm her. Needed it to remind her to keep going because it would all be over soon.
The waitress left without another word and Delores closed her eyes behind the opened menu, feeling her breath go in and then come out, each breath quicker than the last. The sound of so many voices—some yelling, some talking, some laughing, and a baby crying somewhere. One of the cooks shouted an order through to someone else, and somewhere within the diner cutlery was dropped and it clashed against the wooden table. A cup banged, someone else laughed and, through it all, the baby continued to cry and cry and cry. There were so many sounds that Delores felt dizzy as she battled to drown them all out.
The waitress came back a few moments later, and placed a full cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She’d barely given Delores enough time to swallow the panic attack that was threatening to explode from her. She looked up from the menu, never having read it and chosen what she wanted, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Okay, what can I get you?” The waitress smiled again, revealing a row of pretty white teeth.
Delores stared ahead, her eyes swimming in and out of focus. Her heart hammered in her chest, her lungs once more refusing to work. She didn’t hear the waitress scuttle off and come back a moment later, squeezing into the booth next to her and handing her a brown paper bag.
“Okay, ma’am, just breathe into this. It’s going to be okay.”
Delores looked down at the bag, tunnel vision taking control of her, and making her head pound even more than it had been doing. She felt the bag cover her mouth, and she took great gasps of air from it, feeling the tide of panic slowly begin to ebb away, and the sounds around her become muffled.
Moments passed, seconds, minutes, time a fleeting and continuous mechanical machine that would forever continue to move onwards, regardless of whether she wanted it to or not. Delores became aware of a hand rubbing her back in soft circular movements. The sound of the restaurant coming back to life as the humming and throbbing passed back into the background once more.
