East Coast Girls

by Kerry Kletter

  She tried to summon that feeling of safety now. To remember what it was to feel at home somewhere. She felt her body relax.

  She must have dozed off for a bit, because the next time she looked at the clock, almost an hour and a half had passed.

  “Why does that sign say we’re headed toward Pittsburg?” she asked.

  “What sign?”

  Hannah leaned forward, pointed up.

  “Uh-oh,” Maya said.

  Blue snorted awake in the passenger seat. “What’s going on?”

  The half Xanax was no match for Hannah’s nerves, which were suddenly vibrating like the inside of a rung bell. She sat back and wrapped her arms around herself. It was too familiar, a reminder of another night. You guys, I think we’re lost...

  “Think I maybe took a wrong turn somewhere?” Maya said. “But not to worry! We’ll just turn around at the next exit!” She pulled up the navigation system on her phone. Glanced at it. “In about fifteen miles...”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Blue said.

  “Sorry,” Maya said. “I’m freaking exhausted. I worked the night shift yesterday. You wanna take over?”

  “Sure,” Blue said.

  “You can’t drive,” Hannah said. “You took a Xanax!”

  “I’m fine,” Blue said.

  “No way,” Hannah said.

  “All right. Crap,” Maya said. “Is there a place we can stop for the night?”

  Blue sighed, pulled out her phone and asked Siri to locate the nearest motel.

  “Wait, what?” Hannah said. “You’re serious?” The thought of staying in a roadside motel, in a bed that other people had slept in, was just... Well, she couldn’t. “Can’t we just get coffee and keep going?” She could hear the rise of panic in her voice.

  “I mean, we can,” Maya said. “I’m just afraid I’ll drive us into a ditch. Or to Alaska. You do realize we drove four hours already just to get to you.”

  “It looks like there’s a motel a few minutes up the road,” Blue said. “Another about twenty miles farther.”

  “Which place seems nicer?” Maya asked.

  “Why?” Blue said. “You paying?”

  “I don’t mind paying,” Maya said, which everyone in the car knew was technically true but also irrelevant since Maya never had any money.

  They reached the first motel. A neon sign blinked Vacancy, luring travelers with a lobster buffet at the attached gas station– restaurant for $9.99. Hannah was pretty sure she recognized the place from an episode of Cops. “No,” she said. “Keep driving.”

  “This is fine,” Maya said. “It’s just a place to crash for five or six hours. The other could be worse.” She pulled in to the dimly lit semicircle parking lot, where the only two cars looked like incisors on an otherwise toothless and demented grin.

  Bile rose in Hannah’s throat. She hated being this way, hated it so much. She used to love motels when she was a kid, the cheap little soaps and upside-down plastic-wrapped cups in the bathrooms, the vending machines with candy bars and sodas, the dinky swimming pools with bottoms stained with mold—every motel so comfortingly the same. Now all she could see were the germs and filth. She remembered asking Dr. Maloney if the contamination fears had started because of all the blood. It had been all over her, on her hands and in her hair, Henry’s blood. But he’d said that interpretation was too literal, that it was something far more poisonous that had gotten in. He’d sat back then, folded his hands across his lap and gazed at her in that penetrating way, waiting for her to figure it out. She’d stared back blankly until he announced her time was up. Whatever it was, she was certain she could not survive it. Whatever it was, her whole life was designed to avoid it. She thought again of the Xanax in her bag.

  “I’ll check in,” Maya said.

  “Wait!” Hannah said. “Can’t we talk about this?”

  Blue flipped Maya her credit card, got out of the car and wandered off for another smoke. Hannah saw the small red glow of a cigarette in the distance.

  She tucked her knees to her chest and attempted some deep breathing exercises. Already she wanted a scalding hot shower, maybe a precautionary antibiotic. And they hadn’t even gone in yet. Which reminded her—who would be checking to make sure Henry’s room was sterile without her to supervise the nurses when Vivian wasn’t there?

  She checked her phone, her mind lurching toward disaster. But there was nothing from Vivian. Nothing from the care facility. Just a bunch of Dear Miss Know-It-All emails, which made her feel heavy with answers she didn’t have about questions she hadn’t even read. Maybe by the time she got back—if she actually survived this trip—she’d feel less like a fraud offering other people wisdom.

  A large truck rumbled up behind her, its square face glaring down with blinding yellow eyes. Hannah looked for Blue but could no longer find her. She inched lower in the seat, heard the sound of her own whimper. Breathe, breathe, breathe. She did this for as long as she could. When she finally opened her eyes, the truck was gone.

  There was a sudden knock on the window. Hannah jumped, screamed.

  Maya laughed as she held a key card up to the glass. “The key to paradise, baby,” she said, spreading her arms wide across the parking lot, nearly knocking Blue, who had come up behind her, in the face. “I requested a room without a meth lab. But those were all booked up. I’m kidding.”

  “This place is seriously not safe!” Hannah said. “This creepy trucker pulled in right after you left. Scared the hell out of me.”

  “Your whole life scares the hell out of you,” Maya said.

  “If you saw the Dateline segment on roadside motels, you’d get it. They don’t even clean the rooms!”

  “Well, I haven’t showered, so...it’s a match,” Maya said.

  “And sometimes they don’t even change the key codes, so anyone can get in.”

  “So it’s a good thing you’re staying with me,” Maya said. “If anyone gets kidnapped, it’ll be Blue. She’s the low-hanging fruit.”

  “It’s true,” Blue said.

  “I’m sleeping in the car,” Hannah said.

  “Please stop being ridiculous,” Maya said.

  Blue opened the car door, peered in. “You’re definitely not safer alone in a car in the parking lot,” Blue said gently. “Maybe the rooms are nicer than you think.”

  Hannah grabbed at Blue’s compassion as if it were a parachute rip cord. She took another deep breath, clinging to the last-standing soldier of reason in her brain trying to fight back the stampede of irrational terror. One quick look at the room. If it wasn’t okay, she would insist that they leave.

  They wheeled their luggage toward the rusty metal staircase, past a vending machine with a ripped sign taped to it—“Out of Ordor”—the words Eat me scrawled below it. Even Blue looked a little uneasy.

  “Here we are,” Maya said, sticking the key into the slot.

  Hannah peered over Blue’s shoulder as Maya opened the door, causing an exhale of mildew and uncirculated air. Maya flipped the light switch to reveal two twin beds with bedspreads the color of vomit, a neat fold of white top sheet disguising all the human ick that had slept within.

  Hannah froze at the door. “I can’t,” she said. “There has to be something else.”

  Maya dumped her luggage onto the floor. “There isn’t.” She kicked off her flip-flops, marched across the stained carpet and launched herself onto the bed.

  “Oh my God,” Hannah said. Her heart was hurtling. Her insides fizzing like a shaken can. Brain jumping from one terror to another. “Those comforters probably haven’t been washed since the sixties.” She could hear the hysteria in her voice, an onslaught of adrenaline and flight signals trampling over her capacity for reason. “Now you know why I always say no to everything. This is what yes looks like.”

  “This,” Maya said, gesturing around he
r, “is what life looks like! Embrace it! Roll around in the shit of it!” She turned over and buried her face in the bedspread. “I love germs!”

  Hannah screamed.

  “You’re an ass,” Blue said to Maya. “She’s right. They don’t wash those things.” Then to Hannah she added, “It’s only one night. You can stay with me if you want. I’m more fun anyway.”

  “Ha! In your dreams!” Maya said, rolling over onto her back. “She’s staying with me in the nondelusional room.”

  Blue laughed seemingly despite herself. “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you clowns in the morning.” She turned to Hannah. “Remember, I’m right next door if it’s too crowded in there with Maya’s ego.”

  Maya threw a pillow at Blue.

  Blue ducked, shouting “Nice try, loser!” as she slipped off to her room.

  The second she was gone, Hannah realized there was no chance of them changing their minds about staying here. She looked at the bed next to Maya’s but couldn’t bring herself to move toward it. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said. Just standing there was making her itch.

  Maya sat up. “What on earth do you think is going to happen?”

  “I don’t know... I just...” But there was no way to explain a phobia to anyone who didn’t have one. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t rational, that the danger was imagined or overblown. What mattered was that it felt real and that the fear was a torture far worse than whatever had triggered it. She closed her eyes, picturing her bed at home, everything so clean and neat and safe. All she wanted was to be normal again. To not be so exhausted and exhausting. She started to cry.

  “Stop!” Maya said, jumping up from the bed. The energy of her annoyance crowded the room, clashing with Hannah’s distress, further abandoning her to it. “You are not going to do this. You are not allowed to break down on me. We’re on vacation!”

  “I’m trying!” Hannah said. She wept harder. “Do you think I want to be like this? Do you think this is a choice?”

  Maya held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Hey, I’m sorry. Seriously, please don’t cry. We’ll figure something out. I’m going to help you.” She scanned the room, frowning. Then her face lit up. “I know!”

  “What?” Hannah said.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why? Are you going to do something gross?”

  “No. Just do it.”

  Hannah sighed.

  “Both eyes, please. Thank you. Okay, take a few deep breaths.”

  Hannah tried, but her body resisted, didn’t want to take in the musty, moldy air, didn’t want to take in any life at all. The sound of her own pathetic efforts made her only want to cry more.

  “Now I want you to imagine you’re walking into a... Where do you wish you could be?”

  Hannah thought. What is the opposite of this motel room?

  “Somewhere clean,” she said over the mass in her throat. “Sterile.” She heard the swish of the thick curtains being closed, could see the light behind her lids go black.

  “Okay, great! So we’re walking into a hospital.”

  Hannah thought of all those months with Henry in the ICU and squeezed her eyes against the image. She must have shaken her head because Maya quickly added, “It’s not that kind of hospital though.” And then, “I’m thinking it’s more like an asylum.”

  Hannah opened one eye.

  “Okay, sorry, kidding. Bad joke. It’s more like a med spa. Not one patient there yet. You’re the first person to ever enter it. Okay?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “Good. Now take a step onto the clean, bleached floor. You can do this.”

  Hannah kept her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh God, oh God.” She tried to envision pristine flooring, but in her mind the carpet came alive, all those germs from all those people just waiting for their moment to get inside and pollute her. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “It won’t if you believe that.” She grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Now take a step forward. Ooh, watch out for all the cleaning supplies. Don’t want to trip on that disinfectant. Do you smell all that bleach?”

  Hannah giggled in spite of herself. She focused her attention on Maya’s voice and the feeling of Maya’s hot, dry hand in hers, allowing her to skid around the edges of the panic just a bit, just enough to take a small step, like dipping toes into a pool.

  “Awesome. Now I’m going to lead you over to your bed.”

  Hannah stopped. “Can you check it first?”

  “Check it for what?”

  “Everything.”

  Maya sighed. “Stay there. Keep your eyes closed.”

  Hannah saw pink light behind her lids as Maya flicked on the bedside lamp. “Be thorough!” she called. She could practically feel Maya’s eyes roll, and yet it was a comfort—her predictability.

  After a minute Maya announced, “Perfectly clean,” and switched off the light again. “Not a speck or a stain.”

  Hannah felt Maya’s hand grab her fingers, drag her over to the bed.

  “Now, I’m going to pull down the sterilized blanket and you’re going to get under the nice, brand-new, hot-washed sheets.”

  Hannah sat on the bed and Maya took off her shoes as if she were a small child. Maya stroked her arm a few times.

  “Now lie back.”

  Hannah slowly lowered her back down onto the bed.

  “Spin a little.”

  Hannah turned and Maya took her legs and slid them under the covers. She realized she was trembling as Maya pulled the sheets up to her chin, tucked in the edges around her like a parent would do, left the dirty duvet at her feet.

  Hannah opened her eyes. “You’d make a good mom,” she said.

  Maya smiled. “Thanks.”

  “We’re all seeing in real time why I wouldn’t.”

  They both laughed, and new tears pushed at the back of Hannah’s eyes, born of gratitude.

  “Xanax, please?” she whispered. “It’s in the side pocket of my bag.”

  Hannah heard Maya’s feet padding away, heard her curse as she stubbed her toe, heard the bathroom light snap on, Maya fumbling with the bag, the rattle of the bottle...padding back.

  “Open,” Maya said.

  Hannah opened her mouth and the tiny, weightless tablet dropped onto her tongue. She swallowed it dry, anticipating the gentle warmth that would soon spread across her brain, making her limbs heavy, as if she could feel gravity pressing down on her, holding her in place. All she needed to do was survive the night. Six hours. She could do it.

  She opened her eyes to see the outline of Maya’s features, her familiar eyes compassionate and love-lit in the dark. “Thanks,” she said. She let her lids go heavy. “Can you turn the bathroom light back off?”

  “Your eyes are closed. You can’t see it.”

  “No, I’ll be able to tell.”

  “Not if you’re asleep.”

  “But I won’t be able to fall asleep with the light on.”

  “Yes, you will. Just let the kind pharmaceutical fairies take you away.”

  “But,” Hannah said, “why does the light need to be on?”

  “Gently taking you away off to dreamland...”

  “Wait a minute.” Hannah sat up. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “What? No!”

  “You are!” she shrieked. “I can’t believe it. Is it the boogeyman you’re worried about?”

  “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  “Boogey, boogey, boogey, boogey!”

  They were both laughing now.

  “I can’t wait to tell Blue!”

  “When did this become about me?”

  “Oh my God, you’re scared of the dark—and you know what’s the best part? That’s, like, the one thing I’m not afraid of.”

 
“Oh, piss off.”

  “Speaking of being pissed,” Hannah said, turning serious. “I feel really bad about Blue. I think she was genuinely upset about the whole Renee thing.”

  “Oh, whatever! She’s being ridiculous.”

  Hannah sighed. “We don’t know that. Maybe Renee did something really bad.”

  “What could possibly be that bad? Blue’s just queen of the grudge. Remember that time she didn’t speak to Renee for like two months because Renee ran over her pet lizard?”

  “Well, yeah, but... Blue loved Edward.”

  “It wasn’t intentional! As far as I know... Look, don’t worry about it. I have a feeling they’ll be friends again soon enough.”

  “Really?” Hannah said doubtfully. “I don’t see how, but...good night, then.” She watched Maya’s shadow move to the bathroom. “Maya?” she said. She knew she shouldn’t but couldn’t stop herself. “Henry’s okay, right? Do you think he’s wondering where I am?”

  She heard the bathroom door close.

  MAYA

  Maya stood on the other side of the door, leaned against it, breathed. She didn’t understand the point of asking a question when you didn’t want the answer. Sometimes Hannah’s issues felt like a personal attack on her, forcing Maya to remember over and over again why they were there. She knew this was unfair.

  She looked at Hannah’s Xanax bottle. About ten pills left out of sixty and it was filled less than three weeks before. Maya envisioned shaking them out into the chipped white toilet, flushing them down like she used to do with her mother’s pills no matter how many times it got her in trouble. She would do anything to exorcise the terrified animal who had taken over her friend’s body, made her need drugs and plastic bags and antibacterial soaps. Anything to return the Hannah who existed before Henry had been stuffed into an ambulance like a couch into a moving van, rushed to the ER in a dizzying blur of blue light and howling, the smooth black summer night shattered with emergency.