DC Trip

by Sara Benincasa

  Alicia Deats hated lowering her expectations of anyone or anything, ever. But what choice did she have?

  She turned around and practically walked right into Bob Reina.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” he said, looking embarrassed.

  “No, no, it’s my fault, Mr. Reina,” she said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, neither was I, and that’s no credit to a security professional,” he said. “Looks like everything else is proceeding apace.”

  “No more complaints about my kids, I hope,” Alicia said.

  “Not a one,” he said, smiling. “And we know how kids are—we handle plenty of school groups throughout the year. Sometimes they like to test boundaries, like those girls the other night. But they’re mostly good kids at heart, I think. And you two teachers seem like you’ve got it together.”

  “I hope so,” Alicia said.

  “Nice they let you and your husband work the trip together,” Bob said.

  “Who? Oh, Brian isn’t my husband,” Alicia said with a little laugh.

  “Your boyfriend, then,” Bob said.

  “Nope,” Alicia said. “I don’t even know if he’s my friend, actually. I don’t even know if he likes me at all.” It was more than she’d planned to say—though that was nothing uncommon for Alicia. But there was something very comforting about Bob Reina’s presence, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was, exactly. He had a kind of … special aura.

  “Not even a friend?” Bob said. “You could’ve fooled me, the way he looks at you.”

  Alicia blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She also felt a lovely bit of hope fluttering in her rib cage.

  “Oh, I wish,” she said, and then blushed harder.

  “You never know what can happen in Washington, D.C.,” he said. “City of romance!”

  Alicia laughed.

  “I’ve never heard it called that before,” she said.

  “Oh, this city is full of surprises,” he said. Then he smiled, gave her a little salute, and walked out the front door.

  Alicia stood there for a moment in the generic hotel lobby with its unremarkable carpet and boring decorations, and something came over her. Maybe it was a burst of confidence inspired by Bob Reina’s kindness. Maybe it was a second wind. Whatever it was, she suddenly knew that tonight was going to be different. Special. Better.

  And how did she know that?

  Because she was going to make it so.

  When Gertie, Sivan, and Rachel quietly opened their door at precisely eleven p.m., exactly one hour after lights out, they found a big X of masking tape across their door. It wasn’t on the door itself, as the door was set into the wall a bit. Rather, Ms. Deats had made an X across the doorframe. It was almost like a really, really basic spider web. The girls would have to walk through it to get out of the room.

  “Shit,” Rachel whispered. “She really did it. I thought she might forget about it.”

  “Why would she forget?” Gertie whispered back.

  “I have this theory that she’s a huge stoner,” Rachel whispered back. “She probably gets high with Sivan’s parents. Sivan, do you think your mom ever smokes up with Ms. Deats?”

  “God, I hope not,” Sivan whispered. “Look, we can do this. Check it out. She left too much room at the bottom. This is honestly kind of a shitty job on her part, not to be mean.” She got down on her belly and carefully army-crawled beneath the X. She popped up triumphantly on the other side and grinned at her friends.

  Gertie narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. Yesterday, she might’ve been too nervous to do it, too scared to really go for it. But tonight was a different story. Tonight she became a woman.

  Gertie took off her shoes and handed them to Sivan. Then she got down on her belly and awkwardly slithered under the tape. She did it even faster than Sivan had done it. She stood up, a little red around her knees from rug burn, but triumphant.

  “Wow,” Rachel said admiringly. “That shoe idea was good. Here, hold my platforms.” She crawled under the tape, stood up, and carefully reached through the X and pulled the door shut.

  “I’m legit impressed with us,” Rachel said quietly, grinning and patting her friends on the back. “Especially you, Gertie.”

  “She should’ve taped the knob and the door itself,” Sivan said thoughtfully. “It was kind of a rookie move.”

  Sivan and Gertie were wearing their outfits from the previous evening—Sivan in her Che Guevara T-shirt; Rachel in her little spaghetti strap top. But Gertie had insisted Rachel do a full-on makeover on her, so she actually looked a whole lot older than sixteen. She was wearing Rachel’s favorite secret dress, a clingy purple thing with skinny straps and a short skirt. Rachel had curled the bottom of Gertie’s thick, long, straight black hair and lined her almond-shaped eyes with black liquid liner. She also did a bunch of other makeup stuff that Gertie wasn’t familiar with, but it must’ve worked, because when Gertie looked in the mirror she almost didn’t recognize herself. And that made her feel good, because she didn’t want to be Old Gertie tonight. She wanted to be New Gertie, who was dangerous and reckless and who would obviously make Danny Bryan fall instantly in love with her.

  Of course, even New Gertie was sensible enough to insist everyone bring a light hoodie with them just in case it got cold. Who knew how late they’d be out? And camping had taught her that temperatures could drop drastically at night and you could end up cold, so it was better to be prepared.

  They walked down the hallway, the three adventurers, like champions, like commanders of their own destinies. Whether they knew it or not, they looked beautiful, and fierce, like they were ready to conquer the night. All that was missing was a wind machine and some music, and they would’ve made the perfect characters in some cool movie about cool teens doing cool things—until Gertie tripped over her high heels and toppled headlong onto the floor, right in front of Ms. Deats’s room.

  “Oh, FUCK!” Gertie said at a volume much louder than a whisper.

  Rachel and Sivan froze like deer in the headlights. All three girls looked at each other, then at Ms. Deats’s door.

  Shit. There was no way she hadn’t heard that.

  They were fucked.

  Alicia Deats didn’t hear the giant crash right outside her door because she had her headphones in. She was Skyping on her laptop with her older sister, Danielle, a corporate lawyer in Boston. At thirty-three, blonde, and gorgeous, Danielle was married to a fellow corporate lawyer, Derek (also blond and gorgeous), whom she’d met at work. They had two adorable blond children, a loyal nanny, a full-time housekeeper/cook, and a mansion on Beacon Hill that dated to 1870. The only bad thing about their situation, Danielle was wont to say, was being Republicans in “Taxachussetts.” Other than that, her life was pretty much perfect, at least to hear her tell it.

  Alicia found her sister’s politics detestable, her materialism deplorable, and her childrearing techniques highly problematic. Danielle and Derek thought nothing of jetting off to Paris for the weekend and leaving the children in the care of the nanny and the cook. Alicia always envisioned herself as a really nurturing, present mother who spent a lot of time with her children, teaching them organic gardening techniques and maybe doing some child-friendly weaving to encourage hand-eye coordination. Danielle was not the type of mother to mash up organic carrots into baby food or read her children a book about feelings. In fact, Danielle sometimes acted like her kids were mere accessories to her glamorous life of charity balls, international vacations, and elaborate ski trips. When Alicia saw her nieces at Christmas, she was always sure to ask them questions about their emotions, but they seemed only to want to talk about their new clothes or dolls or how good they were at ice-skating and soccer and kiddie krav maga. Alicia really hoped her own children would be more interested in abstract concepts like peace and ethics, but you never could know. Danielle’s kids were like little Danielles already. They loved things and achievement.
/>   Needless to say, Alicia and her sister didn’t always see eye-to-eye. Alicia was not fond of confrontation, and Danielle was very fond of it, so their encounters often consisted of Danielle telling Alicia what she ought to do with her life, while Alicia bit her tongue and did deep breathing.

  But there was one area in which Danielle had always been surprisingly helpful to Alicia, and that area was boys. It was very strange, but Danielle had kind of an empowering approach to dating. She believed that a woman should go after whatever she wanted in any area of life and that winning mattered above all else. She didn’t believe in playing games unless the game would advance her own agenda. She also firmly believed that Alicia was beautiful and smart and a real catch, which was always nice to hear. Of course, she could never resist a chance to mention that one day she really, really hoped Alicia would …

  “ … finally get over all the hippie-dippie bullshit,” Danielle said. She was wearing the headset she used at work, and her face was covered in some kind of green face mask that Alicia suspected cost an arm and a leg per jar.

  “What hippie-dippie bullshit?” Alicia asked with a sigh. “Go on, I know you want to tell me.”

  “First of all,” Danielle said. “I just really hope you start using real deodorant. You’ll never get a promotion at work if you’re relying on homemade crap.”

  “I only made my deodorant a few times, and that was in college,” Alicia said.

  “You’re shaving again, aren’t you?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Alicia said.

  “Armpits and legs?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about the bush?”

  “Oh my God, Danielle, do we really have to talk about my pubic grooming techniques?”

  “You’re still doing the full bush, aren’t you?” Danielle rolled her eyes. “Guys hate that. Especially guys your age. They grew up with bare pussy in porn. How many times have we had this discussion?”

  “Too many times!” Alicia said. “As in, this is the third time and once was more than enough!”

  “At least tell me you trim it,” Danielle said. She put a cigarette to her lips and lit it. Then she inhaled.

  “Danielle!” Alicia said, aghast. “When did you start smoking again? I thought you quit after law school!”

  “You try to raise two children and manage a nanny and housekeeper who hate each other, plus be a perfect wife and employee and look this amazing all the time,” Danielle said. “It’s either have my nightly cigarette or start popping pills. And the cigarette helps me stay thin.”

  “Oh, Danielle,” Alicia said. “A yoga practice, a whole foods diet, and plenty of water would keep you thin without giving you cancer.”

  “Fuck yoga,” Danielle said. “It’s the most boring thing I ever tried in my life. All that breathing and feeling. It’s not for me. I love my spin class. All the shouting and the loud music and the feeling like you’re going to puke. God, it’s good.”

  Danielle had taken Alicia along to spin class one time. Alicia had found it absolutely terrifying. A bicycle to nowhere. She shivered at the memory.

  “So anyway, this guy,” Danielle said. “Personally, I think you ought to focus exclusively on men with real jobs, but that’s me.”

  “Teaching is a real job!” Alicia said.

  “I know, I know, the children are our future and all that shit,” Danielle said. “I know you work hard. But teaching pays crap. If you’re looking for a partner, you need one with a steady, stable income and room for growth.”

  “Well, whatever,” Alicia said. “I’m just—I just wanted some advice on how to talk to him. I don’t even know if he likes me. He acts weird around me.”

  “It’s because he wants to fuck you,” Danielle said.

  “Danielle!”

  “What? It’s what men want. Men want to fuck women. Unless they want to fuck men. Is he gay?”

  “I don’t—I don’t think so. I mean he had a fiancée once.”

  “Doesn’t mean a thing. He could be queer as a three-dollar bill. I hope he doesn’t cheat on you with a man.”

  “Danielle!”

  “All right, so you want this fruit bat math teacher? I’m going to give it to you straight.” Danielle took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled luxuriously. “You’re going to have to fuck him.”

  “Danielle Deats!” Alicia was horrified. “He is not even my boyfriend yet!”

  Danielle waved her cigarette dismissively. “Boyfriend, schmoyfriend. Aren’t you people the ones who are always talking about free love?”

  “That was hippies in the 1960s, Danielle. I am a modern woman. You know I firmly believe in monogamy so long as both partners are on board with that choice. Although I totally respect polyamory and other forms of consensual non-monogamy.”

  “Is that the thing where you fuck everybody else and justify it with a bunch of bullshit buzz words you learned at Burning Man?”

  “That is offensive! I know plenty of poly people who—”

  “Okay, whatever. I get it, your slutty hippie friends are all special flowers. But men are men are men, whether they make actual money or teacher salaries. And you’re going to need to make a move on this guy. How do you think I landed Derek? I fucked his brains out.”

  “Not at work,” Alicia said.

  “Yes at work!” Danielle said. “I fucked him on his desk. Then I ignored him until he fell in love with me, at which point I made him my boyfriend. And here we are today!”

  “But I’m not like you,” Alicia said. “I’m not brave.”

  “You are brave,” Danielle said. “You just don’t know it. You’ve been different and gun-shy ever since that stupid geeky fucker in high school—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Alicia said hurriedly.

  “Well, he fucked you over and I hate him,” Danielle said. “I’d crush his fucking head if I saw him today.”

  “Let’s focus on the present,” Alicia said.

  “You know, I hate to sound like a therapist, because most of ‘em are cranks and thieves,” Danielle said. “But I don’t know if you’re going to be able to move forward until you work through that old shit.”

  Alicia sat quietly for a moment, mulling over her sister’s words.

  Then there was a shriek in the background at Danielle’s house, followed soon by another, higher-pitched shriek.

  “Ah, fuck,” Danielle said. “Both demons awaken. I have to go subdue the beasts. You take care, kiddo. You know I love you even though you’re wrong about almost everything.”

  “I know,” Alicia said. “I love you too.” She shut her laptop and sat very still.

  “She’s right,” Alicia said aloud. “And tonight’s the night to do it.”

  It soon became evident that Ms. Deats was not going to come out and catch the girls, despite Gertie’s spectacular misstep. Rachel and Sivan hauled her to her feet and took off the down the hall at lightning speed.

  “Man, Gertie,” Rachel said when they got to the back stairwell. “You could’ve ruined everything.”

  “Yeah, you should’ve taken your shoes off if you can’t walk in them,” Sivan said.

  “Okay, so it’s my fault I fell?” Gertie demanded. “I just tripped! It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Sivan said. “I was just giving you some advice.”

  “It sounded like a criticism,” Gertie said.

  “It was a criticism,” Rachel said. “We’ve got to keep our shit together so we don’t get in trouble again.”

  The girls crept down the back stairwell quietly until they reached the first floor. Rachel gingerly opened the door to the hallway and poked her head out, looking both ways.

  “Coast is clear,” she whispered, and the girls emerged one by one, closing the door quietly behind them. Then they tiptoed to the end of the hallway and looked up at the EXIT sign gleaming above the back door.

  “You don’t think an alarm will go off, do you?” Gertie asked.
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  “Of course not,” Rachel scoffed. Then she paused. “I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “I hope not,” Sivan said.

  “Only one way to find out,” Gertie said. She pushed past Sivan and Rachel and pushed the door open.

  There was no alarm. Just the parking lot laid out before them like the gateway to another dimension. The streetlights glistened like stars in the firmament. Beyond, the city lights beckoned.

  “Are we really gonna do this?” Rachel asked, suddenly seized by an uncharacteristic touch of anxiety.

  “We sure the fuck are,” Gertie said confidently. She strode out, and Sivan and Rachel followed her.

  No one even noticed them leaving.

  When Alicia needed to relax, she liked to put on the music of Tibetan singing bowls or a recording of sounds of the ocean intermixed with tinkling windchimes. But tonight she didn’t need to relax. Tonight, Alicia Deats needed to be alert, aware, and at the top of her game. So she put on a live Fleetwood Mac album, which always got her amped. She had even brought along little speakers that attached to her laptop. She didn’t blast it TOO loud, because the students were sleeping, but it was loud enough to get her blood flowing and her heart pumping.

  Alicia had never quite prepared for anything like this before. She wasn’t sure exactly what to do, although her sister certainly had some definite ideas about that. Speaking of which, her sister had made a big deal about her hygiene. And Alicia was a very clean, hygienic person—within reason, of course—but it was true that she hadn’t taken a shower that morning. She’d been in too much of a rush to get to breakfast and to get the info sheets on the museums printed up in the hotel business center.

  She had brought a razor … and her own homemade soap and shampoo and conditioner …

  “Ah, fuck it,” Alicia said, and stripped naked. She jumped in the shower and found to her surprise that it had excellent water pressure. She also found that her armpit hair was grown out maybe a bit closer to her college length than her sister would’ve liked. It wasn’t as if Alicia had a real reason to shave her legs and armpits, so sometimes she was a bit lax. But tonight was special. Tonight she was going to shave.