I raise the binoculars to my eyes and look into room 203. Close up, she is decidedly very pretty. Maybe in her late twenties. Blond hair. A little bony compared with Christina, but still very attractive. I watch as she paces across the room. She looks anxious.
I wonder if she’s in any trouble. After all, she pulled into a seedy motel in the middle of the snowstorm.
Or maybe she’s here to make trouble.
She pauses for a moment. She walks over to the door to her room and flings it open. Nick is standing there, holding a plate of food out to her.
Gosh, isn’t he nice? The kind, handsome owner of the motel thoughtfully brought her some dinner. I bet he didn’t even charge her, as if we could spare the money. I can just imagine her swooning over that one.
I watch them chatting for a moment, wishing I could hear what they’re saying. But more than that, I wish I could trust him.
But I can’t.
Chapter 34
That Morning
Nick is rifling around in our closet. I turn my chair to watch him, trying to figure out what he’s doing. “What are you doing?”
“I need to borrow your boots.”
“My boots?”
“I’m going to help this guest dig her car out and she doesn’t have any boots. I’ll bring them back when she’s done with them.”
My jaw tightens, as I remember watching that woman’s pretty face through my binoculars last night. “Is it really necessary for you to dig her car out?”
“I told her I’d help. Although honestly, I don’t think she’s going anywhere until the plow comes.”
“Well, gee, that’s so nice of you.” I don’t even try to keep the edge out of my voice.
Nick retrieves my fur lined black boots from the closet. I remember how warm those boots used to be. I could go out in deep snow, and I wouldn’t even feel it. Of course, I wouldn’t feel it now either since I can’t feel my feet at all.
“Rosie,” he says patiently. “I have to help her. Don’t be difficult about this.”
“Oh, am I being difficult?”
He frowns. “Yes. You are.”
“Strange. Why would I be upset because my husband wants to help a beautiful young woman with her car?”
He drops the boots on the ground and sits down heavily on the bed. “Don’t do this. Please.”
“Do what?”
“I’ve been faithful, okay?” He looks me in the eyes. “I haven’t touched another woman since… Anyway, it’s not like you’ve done anything to help.”
“Help what?” I stare back at him. “I’m stuck here in this room all the time. What am I supposed to do?”
“For starters, get out of this goddamn room. Let me turn the dining room downstairs into a bedroom. Let me convert the kitchen at Rosalie’s and we can open it back up—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I punch my fist into my knee so hard, it kicks up a spasm. But I just ignore it. “You act like it’s all so easy. It’s not easy.”
“I know it’s not easy, but—”
“You don’t know.” My right leg trembles with a muscle spasm. “Look, I don’t want to have this conversation. Go give that woman my boots. Let her keep them, for all I care. It’s not like I’m ever going to use them again.”
I expect him to keep arguing with me, like he often does. But instead, he gets back on his feet. “Fine,” he snaps.
Then he picks up the boots and stomps out the door. Every step he takes echoes through the entire house until the front door slams shut.
After he leaves, I wheel myself over to the window. And I grab my binoculars. I shouldn’t watch them, but I can’t help myself. Worrying about Nick cheating on me again has become an obsession. When we were young, I always trusted him. I was never jealous. Now it’s all I can think about.
I peer through my binoculars, searching for that woman’s car. She parked it in the lot by Rosalie’s. It’s a strange thing to do, considering the motel has its own lot. Why would she have parked at Rosalie’s, which is boarded up? And she didn’t just park at Rosalie’s, she parked all the way around back.
What does she have to hide?
A few minutes later, I see the two of them come into view. The woman is wearing a thick coat, but I remember catching that glimpse of her in room 203. She’s beautiful. And Nick knows it.
Mostly, they’re digging out her car. Nick is doing most of the work, because he’s big and strong and he always wants to help. I watch their lips move through the binoculars. They’re talking. At one point, he laughs at something she says.
When is the last time I’ve seen Nick laugh? I swear, it’s got to have been a year, at least.
They would make a good couple. They look better together than Nick and I do these days, that’s for sure. I’m sure he feels some sort of tug of attraction towards her. He’s got to be tempted.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for my phone. I select his number and wait for it to ring. Through the binoculars, I can tell he feels it buzzing in his pocket. He steps away from the car, pulls out his phone and looks at the number. Will he take my call when he’s with his beautiful motel guest?
He does.
“Rosie?” he says. “What’s wrong?”
“Having fun digging out that car? Maybe you should have a snowball fight.”
There’s a long pause on the other line. “I’m just helping her dig out her car, Rosie. She’s stuck in the snow.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Come on, Rosie. That’s not fair.”
“Fair to whom?”
He lets out a long sigh. “What do you want me to do? I have to help. It’s the decent thing to do.”
“Right. And you always do the decent thing, don’t you, Nick?”
He doesn’t take the bait, which makes my words seem jealous and petty. “I’ll be done here soon. Is there something you need?”
“Tell your little friend to keep my boots. They look good on her.”
Nick raises his eyes to look up at our house. I quickly lower the binoculars, even though he can’t possibly tell I have them from all the way over there. If he knew I was spying on him with binoculars… Well, I’m not sure what he would do. Probably nothing. But the whole thing is embarrassing.
“I’ll be back later,” he mumbles.
Then he disconnects the call.
Even though I shouldn’t, I keep watching them. They don’t quite manage to get her car unstuck, which isn’t surprising because we got hit hard by snow. But it means they return to the motel together. At one point, she stumbles in the snow and he catches her.
She’s still got my boots on. I wonder if she really will keep them. The thought is like a knife in my chest.
I doze off after that. I always get so tired in the afternoon. Sometimes if Nick is around, I ask him to put me back in bed, but most of the time, I just sleep in my wheelchair. It’s easier that way.
When I wake up, Nick is in her room.
I reach into the drawer by the bed and pull out my binoculars so I can get a better look. They’re sitting together on the bed. No, not just sitting together. He’s rubbing her back. They’re talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.
I wonder if I can persuade Greta to put a listening device in room 203.
No. Too far.
My heart is pounding as I watch him. But Nick isn’t doing anything wrong. They’re just sitting together and talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking.
Until they start kissing.
Chapter 35
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. He swore to me he would never do anything like that again. Yet here he is, kissing another woman. Breaking his marriage vows for a second time.
Not that I’m surprised. I mean, that’s why I got the binoculars.
It’s a little different this time. They’re not making out like he was with Christina. He kisses her, then he jumps up off the bed. He’s gesturing with his arms. Then he looks out the window.
Shit. He sees me.
I lower the binoculars and throw them onto the bed. Did he see the binoculars? I’m not sure about that. I hope not.
Even without the binoculars, I can see him exit the other woman’s room. Probably coming over here to grovel. Again. I have to put those binoculars away quickly, before he spots them. Then I have to decide if I’ll forgive him. I probably will. It gets easier each time, and I have to admit, I don’t know what I would do without him. Even more than two years ago, Nick has become my caregiver. That is the crux of our relationship now. We are not husband and wife anymore, only caregiver and patient.
Also, I don’t want things to end up like last time. As much as I want to wrap my fingers around this woman’s pretty little neck, I don’t want to see her stabbed to death. I know what my husband is capable of now. I can’t let it happen again.
Unfortunately, when I tossed the binoculars onto the bed, they went all the way across the bed and rolled off the other side. So I can’t just grab them and throw them into the drawer. There isn’t much time either.
I push back on the wheels of my chair, backing away from the bed. The bedroom isn’t all that big, and it’s hard to maneuver. I end up having to do the equivalent of a five point turn to get out of the space between the bed and the wall. By the time I’ve freed myself, I can hear Nick’s footsteps on our stairs.
He’s in the house. He’ll be in the bedroom any second.
I make one last ditch effort to get to the binoculars, but it’s too late. He bursts into the room, his face red, his short dark blond hair messy from the wind.
“Rosie,” he gasps. “That was… I didn’t…”
I fold my arms across my chest. “That wasn’t you kissing her?”
“She kissed me.”
“And I’m sure you did nothing at all to lead her on.”
“I didn’t! Rosie, you have to believe me…” He trails off as his eyes land on the binoculars on the floor. My heart is thudding as he bends down to pick them up, a baffled expression on his face. “What the fuck is this?”
I don’t know what to say.
“Are you spying on me?” He shakes the binoculars. “With binoculars? Seriously?”
“Do you blame me? Look at what I caught you doing.”
I expect him to protest again, but instead, his shoulders sag and he tosses the binoculars on the bed. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“I love you, Rosie,” he says softly. “But you don’t trust me anymore. You won’t leave the room or have a conversation with me. You don’t even let me touch you unless I’m helping you. I tried—I really did. But it’s obvious you don’t want me here anymore. And I… I’m not sure I want to be here anymore.”
I stare up at him. I can see in his brown eyes that he means it. I finally pushed him too far. He’s done. “I see.”
“We’re both miserable,” he says. The understatement of the century. “I think it’s time to call it quits.”
I had thought my life was as awful as it could possibly be, but at the moment, my heart rips in two. “I agree.”
“I mean, do you even still love me anymore?”
I look up at his face. He’s still the same guy who tripped over his own feet while running track in high school because he couldn’t stop staring at me. The same guy who bought me a restaurant so that I could have my dream. We’ve been together for eighteen years, and all but the last five were so happy. Maybe we used up all our happiness. Maybe everybody only gets so much.
Do I still love him? Of course I do. He’s the only man I ever loved. The only man I ever will love. But he has a chance to be happy again. I don’t.
“No,” I say. “I don’t.”
He looks like he’s about to break down, but to his credit, he keeps it together. He always does. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll move out.”
“Fine.” I feel oddly calm about the fact that the love of my life is walking out on me. “You should sell this house. I’ll go stay with my parents.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Now that we have each reassured each other that everything is fine four times, he turns and leaves the bedroom. I watch him go. The ache in my chest is so painful, I want to scream. Please don’t go, Nick! I love you! How could you ever think otherwise?
But that would be wrong. The right thing is to let him go.
I take out my phone. I type into the search engine: easiest way to commit suicide.
Chapter 36
I spend a good hour searching websites, trying to figure out how I’m going to do it.
The search immediately brings up a suicide hotline. But that’s for normal people, who are just depressed. My life is actually hopeless. I would be better off dead, and I know it.
Even the websites that tell you how to do it are still trying to talk you out of it. Think of the people who care about you. Yeah, right. I’ve got a husband, who is walking out on me. I’ve got my parents, who I have disappointed every step of the way. Really, the website doesn’t get it. If they knew me, they wouldn’t bother trying to talk me out of it.
My physical limitations will make this tricky. I can’t jump out the window or off a building. Hanging myself is way too labor intensive. I’ll have to go the medication route. Nick will have to give me my pill bottles before I move out. Or I can ask Dr. Heller for a prescription for a sleeping pill.
I haven’t quite decided on a plan yet, but I’m tired from thinking about it. I look back up, out the window, and see a woman moving around room 203. But it isn’t the blond woman. This woman has dark hair.
Unless it’s the same woman, and she just dyed her hair. That’s a possibility.
Nick dropped the binoculars onto the bed, within my reach. I grab for them and focus on the window again. I zoom in close to the woman in room 203.
It’s somebody different. Somebody older. Curvier. Definitely an unfamiliar face.
I guess the blond woman must’ve left, and he gave the room to a new guest. I look down at my watch. It’s barely been an hour. Quick turnaround.
I watch this new woman for a minute, but she doesn’t seem to be doing much. Her head is bent, and she seems to be looking down at her phone.
I drop the binoculars on my lap. My life has become pathetic. I’m watching a woman surf the Internet on her phone.
I wish I could just end it all right now.
Then the woman’s eyes lift from her phone. She’s looking straight at the window. Right at me.
I push my hand against my wheels, backing up a foot. At least she didn’t catch me holding the binoculars. But there’s something about this woman that’s making me uneasy. Not jealousy—that’s become a very familiar emotion lately. Something else unnerving.
My phone buzzes from where I left it on the bed. I swivel my head and see a text from Nick:
I can help you get into bed tonight.
I grit my teeth. I don’t want his pity. Granted, it’s something he helps me with every night, so I can see why he feels bad about abandoning me. But I’ll manage on my own. I’ve practiced it a few times since that night I went crashing to the floor.
I type in my reply: Don’t worry about it.
Fine. But I’ll bring you dinner. Don’t say no.
I want to tell him not to bother, but that would be stupid. I have become horribly dependent on him over the last five years. If I’d let him turn the dining room into a bedroom like he wanted, I wouldn’t have this problem. But I’ve been stubborn.
Well, he’ll be rid of me soon anyway.
I look out the window again. The dark-haired woman in room 203 is gone, although she left the light on in her room. I scan the parking lot and see only one car, which must belong to that woman. But then I notice the parking lot around the building that used to be Rosalie’s.
The blond woman’s car is still there.
Well, that’s strange. I assumed when I saw somebody else in her room, she must’ve checked out.
And Nick himself said that she was very eager to leave. Now that the plow has done its job, why hasn’t she taken off?
Again, I get that uneasy feeling. But really, it’s none of my business. Nothing here is any of my concern anymore. Including Nick. If he wants to make out with all the guests, that’s his business.
I wish I could stop missing him.
I reach for my phone and start scanning through the photos. I haven’t taken any pictures in the longest time. I go back in time to seven years ago. Nick got the idea to do a theme night at the diner, and that particular night, we were doing eighties night. I had on a headband and legwarmers, and I had crimped my hair. Nick was wearing double denim—denim jeans with a denim jacket—and he slicked back his hair. We snapped pictures of each other, both of us in the middle of laughing at how stupid we looked. Then I snapped a selfie, but Nick ruined it by kissing me in the middle.
We looked so happy. We were happy. I can’t even remember what it felt like to be so happy.
After I’m gone, Nick will meet someone else. I’m sure he’ll be sad about me for a while, but he’ll move on. He’ll find some other woman to have this kind of happiness with—I’ll just be a distant memory by then. And he can start a family with her. He deserves to be happy. He’s a good guy. I’m not sure if I believe he killed that woman two years ago. He’s not capable of it. We’ll probably never know what really happened to her.
I look up from my phone as some movement from outside the window catches my eye. It’s coming from all the way across the parking lot, at my old restaurant. There’s somebody in front of the blond woman’s car.
At first I think it’s the blond woman, but she’s wearing a different coat. I grab my binoculars again to get a better look.
It’s the dark-haired woman staying in room 203. What on earth is she doing?
Do Not Disturb: An addictive psychological thriller Page 17