Malibu Motel

by Chaunceton Bird

  “Haha, I guess. Good to see you haven’t aged a day,” I said. Alex blushed. Just a shade, but there was definitely a blush. Yeah, tonight I was finally getting laid.

  “Well, you’re too kind. So,” Alex looked into my cart, “looks like you’re takin’ this whole winter thing seriously. Lemme ring you up.” Alex moved back around to the other side of the cashier counter and started scanning my items.

  “Um, wanna grab a cup of coffee? Catch up?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I gotta work. Maybe another time?”

  “Sure, yeah. That’s fine. When do you get off?”

  “My shift ends at nine, but then I gotta get home to the kiddos.”

  Dammit. Kids. Ruining my life.

  “Oh, you have kids?” I asked.

  “Yeah, three of ‘em. Ronnie, Shannon, and Michael. They’re a handful.”

  “Wow, yeah. Any other major life events since we last talked?” Of course I was probing around to see what Alex’s relationship status was.

  “Hm...” Alex thought while scanning my Sorels, “well, you know I married Peyton Winward, right?”

  “Oh wow, really? No I didn’t. Jesus Christ. So I have missed a lot. Peyton?”

  “Yeah, Caish, Peyton has changed a lot. I really think you two would get along great now that we’re all adults. Let’s go on a double date once you get settled in.” Alex came out from behind the cashier counter for what I thought was going to be a heartfelt embrace where Alex would tell me how much I’ve been missed and how now that I was back a divorce was in order from goddamn Peyton Winward—one of the people who took advantage of drunk Alex at a party. But when I reached out for a hug, Alex gave an awkward chuckle and stooped down to my shopping cart to scan the bags of road salt and my snow shovel.

  “Is that everything?” Alex asked.

  “Yup. That should do it.” I was humiliated. “Oh, actually I also wanted one of those big orange snow blowers, do you guys do delivery or something?”

  “Yeah, definitely, do you remember which big orange snow blower it was, exactly?”

  “No. Not like a model name or anything.”

  “No problem, let’s walk on over and have a look at the one you want. We can have it dropped off by tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”

  “Yeah, yup. That’s great.”

  I followed Alex as we walked toward the snow blower section. I took the opportunity to examine Alex’s figure. I wasn’t lying when I said Alex hadn’t aged a day. Alex was definitely still a cross-country runner with a strict diet. Ugh. I had to get with Alex. At this point my fuse was getting close to the powder keg, and Alex had to be feeling the same thing. Alex’s face showed it. There was no mistaking it. The signs were there.

  “You ever have to work late, Alex?” I asked. Without turning around, Alex said, “Not usually. Every now and then when we get a big batch of new inventory, but for the most part I leave on time.” Hm. Alex didn’t pick up that signal. I’ll try another—

  “This one?” Alex asked, pointing to a big orange snow blower.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  Alex copied down some numbers from the snow blower’s tag into a pocket notebook. “Great, let’s get you rung up. We’ll get your address for the delivery and have this on your doorstep tomorrow sometime between nine and noon,” Alex said. Was that a signal? Rung up? Like, ring me up? Ring my up? Up my ring? Ring my bell? Hm. I followed Alex back to the cash register trying to solve the puzzle.

  After I had paid for my goods, I figured I’d give it another shot. I knew Alex wanted me but was scared about what kind of ripples it would cause. At the same time, I knew from personal experience that Alex didn’t place great value on fidelity.

  “Alex,” I said, “maybe just swing by my place on your way home. It’s right by your apartment. I just want to catch up. Hear about your kids. Tell me about your life. Ya know? I’ve missed you. I think bumping into you today was more than just a coincidence. I mean, really, what are the chances?”

  Alex thought about it (a good sign). Then, as another customer was walking up to the register, said, “I’ll think about it.”

  “Should I text you my address?”

  “I have it from the snow blower delivery info.”

  “Oh yeah. Okay. Well it was good seeing you. See you tonight.”

  Alex smiled and said, “Good seeing you too Caish, see you later.”

  See you later? As in, Alex will see me later because Alex is going to come to my house after work? Probably. Alex’s emotions run hot, and what’s more romantic than a long-lost lover coming back into town after having made millions in the big city? Ah, shit. Did I mention I was a millionaire? That would’ve helped. Alex probably already knew. Word gets around in these small towns, and news of one of its own making it big in Los Angeles had to have gotten back. All the more reason to think that Alex will come by tonight. Which means I had to get my house together. Or at least my room.

  Kevin was taking down Christmas lights when I pulled up the street. He paused, squinted at my new Suburban, then waved. I waved back. Kevin climbed down his ladder and was in my driveway almost before me. I opened the garage and parked in the driveway. I hadn’t thought about the Suburban being too high to fit into the garage.

  “Well Holy Hanna, Kit, this your new ride?” Kevin asked.

  “Sure is, I figured it would be more appropriate for the conditions. Also, it’s Caish. Like Cajun and cash. Caish.”

  “Oh! Shoot, sorry about that. Caish. I’m sorta hard at hearin’ and terrible with names. But, now that ya liken it to Cajun chicken I won’t soon forget it.”

  “Haha, oh no worries, you’re not the first to struggle with it.”

  “So what’d j’ya do with your little sports car?”

  “Well, I wrecked it, then traded it in for this,” I said.

  “Wrecked it! Haha, oh no, Caish. Are ya alright? I hope ya didn’t hurt yourself.” Kevin put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around, examining me up and down.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, it was just a fender bender. Some guy in a truck was going too fast for conditions and slid into me. Happens.”

  “Sure does. Sheesh. Glad to hear you’re alright. And glad to see ya got yourself somethin’ more Montana appropriate.” Kevin was checking out the Suburban as he talked, “So’s this jalopy gonna fit in your garage? Looks like it’s gonna be a tiiiiiiiiiiight fit.”

  “Ya know, I hadn’t thought of that. From here it looks like it’ll be alright. Close, but it’ll fit.”

  Kevin climbed up the back of the Suburban and looked toward the garage with his head sideways on the roof of the Suburban. “Yeah, I think you’re in good shape. Tight but good. Tight is good, right?”

  Wait. Gross. Was Kevin hitting on me? Was he not married? I guess that doesn’t say too much about a person, but still. Oh, and was that a wink? Hell no.

  “Yup, alrighty, thanks for checkin’ that out. I’ll pull it on in. Good luck with those lights.”

  “Oh, yeah I appreciate it. Lemme know if I can help out with anything. I know movin’ into a new place can be pretty tough.” Kevin’s smile was disarming, but his question about tightness echoed in my mind and kept me on guard.

  “Will do. Thanks. Nice to know I have such kind neighbors,” I said.

  Kevin parted with a smile and I eased the Suburban into my garage. Sure enough, it was a tight fit. I unloaded my winter gear then got busy organizing my house. I started in my room, which would likely be the most important room of the night. I folded my bed tight enough to bounce a quarter off of the comforter. I put all my shoes and clothes away, then moved on throughout the house. I didn’t have time to unbox everything, but I stacked the boxes in an orderly fashion and vacuumed. I put a few pillows on the couch and scooted a coffee table into place. After straightening up my kitchen I checked the clock. 8:52 p.m. Perfect timing. I pulled out the nicest of the four bottles of wine, and made sure my coffee maker was working properly in case Alex though
t I was serious about the coffee. I put on some Gucci sweats and freshened up.

  9:26 p.m., still no Alex. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself while I waited. Do I watch a movie? Read a book? Snack on shrimp? I didn’t want to start anything, but at the same time I didn’t want it to seem like I was expecting any visitors. I opted for scrolling through Instagram. 10:00 p.m., still no Alex. Maybe Alex was actually working late. 10:32 p.m. No way Alex was still at work. That settles it. I was wrong about Alex. Or maybe not. Maybe Alex is just putting the kids to bed. 11:16 p.m. I tell myself, “Okay fine, Alex isn’t coming over, time to stop holding out hope,” and agree with myself, but I stay hopeful. I can’t turn hope off. I check my watch, check myself in front of the mirror, go over what I plan on saying, map out what the night will be like in my mind. 12:03 a.m. Maybe Alex is waiting until Peyton is asleep, and then is going to sneak out. Should I act asleep for when Alex comes over? That would make it look like I had forgotten and it was no big deal. Plus, I could say, “Yeah look, I’m just tired, let’s go lay down for a minute.” Then we’d cuddle, then hands would wander, and before you know it we’re putting each other in our favorite positions. 1:09 a.m. I may have dozed off for a second, was that a knock at the door that woke me? Alex? I checked the front door, nobody there. Just darkness. 1:45 a.m. Still no Alex. I laid in bed scrolling through Instagram until my phone fell out of my hand and hit me in the face. I must have fallen asleep at about the same time.

  11:21 a.m., still no Alex. Which was fine. Alex had moved on with life, and so had I. Probably better not to get anything started with Alex because I wasn’t going to be here forever, and Alex probably wasn’t ever leaving Montana. It would prevent a lot of heartache to put the candle out before it turned into a forest fire.

  I woke up early because Grier’s Hardware rang my doorbell at 11:21 a.m. to drop off my snow blower. The teenager making the delivery looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Probably the offspring of some neighbor I had growing up. He was a kind person, and stuck around long enough to show me how to set up the snow blower. Last night it snowed another few inches, so I’d have an opportunity to try it out right away. But I needed gas and oil before I could run it. Which meant I’d need to buy a gas can. I hate buying gas cans at gas stations because they price them as if they were gold-plated. Not that I care about something being expensive, I just hate rewarding the gas station’s opportunistic swindling. So I prefer to buy my gas cans at hardware stores. Looks like I needed to make another trip to Grier’s.

  The snow mountain in the parking lot had grown, but still was no match for my Suburban. I parked on top and jogged into Grier’s.

  As soon as I walked in I looked over at the cash registers. No Alex.

  I bought the biggest gas can they had and a five-quart jug of 5w-30 oil. I asked the cashier who checked me out whether Alex was working. “Nope, Colby is the manager on Thursdays.” Hm. Probably better that way.

  I filled up the gas can on my way home. By the time I got back Kevin had already cleared my driveway and walks. I went inside to do some online shopping.

  My doorbell rang at around three o’clock and I ran into the bathroom to make sure I was presentable. I tried to control my breathing and focused on not smiling too big. I didn’t want Alex to think I was desperate or anything. Which I wasn’t. Oh but what was I going to say? I thought you’d come around? Better late than never? Do I joke? Play it straight? I’ll just follow Alex’s lead. Okay, nice and calm. But busy. I’m busy, not waiting, but calm.

  When I opened the door I felt like a popped balloon. Two unfamiliar smiling faces introduced themselves as the Blacks.

  “We wanted to introduce ourselves and welcome you to the neighborhood.” They even brought me cookies.

  “Oh, yeah, wow, thanks.” After a brief pause, I remembered my manners and invited them in.

  They couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful my house was, likely because they had the exact same house. We settled into the kitchen where I made them coffee. I couldn’t offer them any hors d’oeuvres because I didn’t have any. They began telling me about our neighborhood and got visibly excited when they gave me the dirt. The Blacks were gossip goblins. I was inundated with who divorced who and how it was that this person was involved in that scandal. They lapped themselves up. On and on. I would have cared (a gobbet of gossip is good for the soul) except we were talking about people living in Missoula, Montana. Why would I care? Unless you have an inside scoop on Hollywood A-Listers I couldn’t care less.

  Eventually, when they were satisfied with their performance, the Blacks left and I went back to shopping. Little World Chinese food delivered my dinner and Facebook and Netflix provided the evening’s entertainment. I stayed up until 2:00 a.m. waiting for Alex, but it was in vain. The only upside was that for the first time in years my mind was occupied with something other than money.

  The next morning I woke up at about noon. I sipped coffee, smoked cigarettes, and scrolled through social media for a few hours. Looks like life in California was every bit as wonderful as it was when I left. It hadn’t snowed overnight, so there was nothing new to snow blow. I take a cozy day to lick my wounds. I had been through more in the past few years than most people experience in a lifetime. I deserved a break. For dinner I ordered sushi, but Montana sushi just wasn’t the same. I stayed up all night waiting for Alex, and still nothing.

  After lunch the next day my doorbell rang, but I kept my cool. I figured it was just FedEx with my Canada Goose. Sure enough, just FedEx. A couple hours later, though, my doorbell rang again. Finally. This was it. And, praise God, it was.

  Alex was standing on my doorstep looking around at my porch when I opened the door.

  “Oh! Hey Alex, what up?” Dammit. All wrong. What the hell? Was I a teenager?

  “Hi, Caish, is this a bad time? I just wanted to come say hi.”

  “No! No, not at all, please, come on in.”

  Alex stepped in and followed me to the main room area. The house had an open floor plan, and the kitchen was part of the main area. Alex took a seat at one of the kitchen stools while I made coffee.

  “So, ya gettin’ all settled in?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah, everybody around here has been super nice. A few people have stopped by just to introduce themselves and welcome me to the neighborhood. Very small-towny.”

  “Well, what do you expect? It is a small town.”

  “True, yeah... it is.”

  “So—”

  “Do you—”

  “Oh, sorry—”

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “No really, I didn’t mean to interrupt, what were ya gonna say?”

  “I was just going to ask about your work, do you usually work nights?” I asked.

  “Lately, yeah. We just hired on a new—oh, do you need to get that?”

  My phone had started ringing. It was a number I didn’t recognize, so I ignored it. “No, sorry, probably wrong number. Either that or a telemarketer. There’s no reason for anybody to call me.”

  “Ugh, don’t you hate that? They call me like twice a day.”

  “Yeah! Me too! Oh it’s the worst. No, I don’t need solar panels, haha.”

  “Serious.” Alex chuckled. “They’re the worst.”

  Then my phone rang again. “You should probably check it out,” Alex said, “could be an emergency.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, one sec,” I said to Alex. Then, stepping out of the kitchen and answering my phone, “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Caish Calloway?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Caish, my name is Jennifer Blanche, I’m your probation officer. How are you this afternoon?”

  “I’m doing good. Thanks. But Jenny, could you—”

  “It’s Jennifer.”

  “What?”

  “My name, it’s Jennifer. I think you called me Jenny. I just wanted to clarify that my name is Jennifer. But sorry to cut you off, go ahead.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, yeah, Jennifer, could you call back a little later? Maybe tomorrow? I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “Sorry Caish, I can’t do that. You need to come in right now and pee into a cup. I also need you to fill out some forms. Can you take down an address right now, or would you rather me text it to this number?”

  “Look, Jennifer, I’m busy right now, I’ll swing in tomorrow and pee into all the cups you want me to. I haven’t used cocaine in months.”

  “Caish, maybe you don’t understand our relationship. I am not asking you to swing by when it is convenient for you. I am not your friend. I am letting you know that you need to come into my office right this instant and pee into a cup or I will send the county sheriff to your house, and he will bring you in. Do you understand that?”

  “Dammit Jennifer. You could not have called at a worst time. Why can’t I come in tomorrow?”

  “Caish. Listen to me. We do not negotiate. I give you orders, and you follow them. You do not plead, you do not bargain. You follow my orders. Come in right now, or I will send the sheriff to your house. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand.” Bitch. Fucking bitch.

  “What do you understand?”

  “That I have to drop what I’m doing, even if I am giving CPR to a dying child, and drive to your office to piss into a fucking cup.”

  “Watch your language, Caish. Would you like me to tell you the address, or text it to you?”

  “Text it to me.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in about ten minutes. Don’t be late.” Jennifer said, then hung up.

  I walked back into the kitchen where Alex was scrolling through Instagram. Alex looked up and asked: “Everything alright? Sounded kinda cross.”

  “Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine I guess. But I gotta go.”

  “Oh, okay. Ya need to leave right now?” Alex asked.

  “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Will you please come back later today?”

  “Ah, I can’t, Caish. Sorry. I pick up Michael from pre-school in a half-hour, from then on it’s kinda hectic. Maybe another time.”

  I couldn’t act coy anymore. I had to lay my cards on the table. Alex had to know. “Alex, will you please come back? Don’t be weirded out by this, but I have been waiting by the door like a dog waiting for its owner for the past couple of days just waiting for you to come over. I can’t stop thinking about you.”