Decisions

The sun peered through the broken blinds, highlighting her face. Anna wiped her brow and peered out across the parking lot taking in the stillness of that moment. She sat down on the edge of the bed. The must filled her lungs. She looked down at her worn shoes and took a deep breath. She was tired. Tired of working so hard and getting nowhere. Tired of cleaning dirty hotel rooms. Tired of where her life seemed to merge at this very point.

This was her last room of the day, another 8-hour shift that had worked her to the bone. She had been employed at the Washington Inn for 6 years and managed NOT to be promoted each of those 6 years, overlooked by her peers because she wasn’t a people person. They chastised her with tips too - “Maybe you should smile more, be more personable?”. What sense did it make? How could she? She was who she was and again, according to life, she wasn’t good enough. She wanted something new, a fresh start. The motel sat on a narrow stretch of lonely highway, wrapped in nothingness - dirt, dirt, and more dirt. They hardly ever saw a new face or patron, usually just a passerby looking for directions. The grass couldn’t be greener in a place like this.

She sat on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh that dug up from someplace in her soul. She rose, wiped her hands on her uniform, and grasp the door handle, letting the dingy light into the room and rolled her cleaning cart inside. “One more room,” she told herself. People were odd creatures, especially when inhabiting space that wasn’t their own. They’d leave clues about their visits like fossils - beer cans, sheets with questionable stains, cigarette butts. But this room was different. No obscene mess. Not even close. The pillows were almost perfect, the trash had been taken out and the towels appeared to never have even been used. The sheets were draped off-center and hung low on one side. This was easy money.

She knelt beside the bed to straighten the bed skirt and saw something lodged underneath. She got closer, reaching under the bed, and touched it. It was a black duffel bag. She got up and went back to the window and gazed across the parking lot. No cars. They must have left. The zipper radiated, this was a new bag. Her fingers ran up to the zipper and she pulled down. A quarter of the way down her heart stopped. She looked around as if the room would tell on her; scream the secret she now knew. She ran to the window and saw Marlene walking into room 203 across the lot in the first building. Her heart was now running faster than her thoughts. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God….she mouthed in the quiet room.

She drew the blinds and let the room envelop in the darkness, pushing the door closed. The door latch sounded so loud. Could everyone hear what she was doing? She sat down again, trying to catch the rhythm of her body and breathing. Her fingers settled on her lips, wet with sweat. Should she call the police? Maybe she should call the front desk...maybe the owner of the bag would come back.

She dumped the contents of the bag over the mattress. She stood there with bated breath. Her curiosity peaked. Fear set into her, rooted. She paced frantically around the room, failing to find any words. She could hear herself panting. It was like a wave, slowly washing her feet, up her legs, trickling up her back, and now red hot on the back of her neck. She felt blank, frozen. She threw the contents back into the bag and zipped it up as fast as she could.

She threw the bag across the room, hitting the wall and thudding in front of the nightstand. She looked at her watch, trying to get her eyes to fixate on the numbers and hands resting upon her wrist. It was 4:22 pm. She had 8 minutes left in her shift. 480 seconds to make a decision.

She opened the room door and walked hurriedly to her car. It unwillingly started, squealing before diminishing into the pat pat pat of the motor. Marlene caught a glimpse of Anna and waved her arm in the hot sun to wish her goodbye. Anna weakly smiled and peeled out of the parking lot and down Highway 7, feeling like she’d almost tip over in her station wagon. The radio flooded her ears, assaulted by bass and drums. She turned the knob on the radio. She couldn’t think straight. Not now. What should she be doing, where should she be right now? Damn it. She had to go pick up the kids.

She pulled off of the road and did a U-turn, heading back into what was left of town. She looked out across the vast road. The dirt skewed up across the plain and she tried to focus. Her lip trembled and she tried to keep her leg steady while on the gas pedal. She felt like she was shaking from the inside out. She felt like everyone could see. She tried to mask herself and fade back into her skin.

Her eyes were wet. She needed to stay centered. She had to. She called out to herself...Anna...Anna….Anna! She careened down into the sullen earth and approached Ms. Margaret’s house. Ms. Margaret was a good woman - better than most. She knew what it was like to be a single mother. To sacrifice self for family. Her husband had died some years ago and her kids had all moved away and had lives of their own. So between their annual visits for the holidays, it was just her.

She loved Ally and Samson like they were her own. It was a blessing their paths crossed at the post office. Anna had struggled to quiet Samson enough to drop off her mail that day. Ally through her line of 6-year-old questioning had asked her, “Mommy who is that old lady?”. Miss Margaret must have seen her embarrassment and failure for multitasking. She walked over and introduced herself, keeping her voice quiet to meet Ally’s. “Well, I’m Miss Margaret, and what would be your name sweetheart?”. Ally took immediately to her, lighting up after being acknowledged. Since that day, Miss Margaret had offered to keep the kids after school while Anna worked at the motel. She pulled into the gravel driveway and put the car in park. She closed her eyes.

Miss Margaret came out from behind the guise of her screened front door and smiled. “Anna, are you coming in? I just made tea.” She motioned for her to come in and Anna smiled weakly again, feeling cracks in her masked appearance.

She pulled the door and stepped slowly out of the car and up to the steps. The wood creaked under her feet as her weight shifted from one foot to the other. She pulled the door open, the door’s spring tension tight in her hands. She could hear Ally and Samson outside playing, their laughter drifting through the open back windows.

“How was your day honey?” Miss Margaret asked over her shoulder as she stood in the kitchen. She stammered a bit, trying to form the words in her mouth. “Umm...ok. You know same old, same old.” She sat down on the couch and waited for a response. “That boss of yours giving you a hard time still? God knows I don’t like that man." Her thick, rich accent pulled down on something in Anna. "I've just been doing the best I can", Anna replied. "Sweetheart that's all we can do" Miss Margaret replied. "The good Lord always provides, that what the good book says", Anna motioned with her lips as Miss Margaret replied. The good book. Silly she thought. She had endured, way down deep in the dirt. And she felt nothing. No connection to anything higher or innately good, no overseer to watch over and protect her...or the kids.

She watched through the window as Samson and Ally played, little cherubs running around the green grass under the hot summer sun. There is something so pure about children, how they see the world for what it is. No pretense. No motives. Just existing, in truth. She missed that about life. It had been hard for her and every day was a struggle just to prepare for the next day and what unknown was to come. Inebriated in thought, the darkness spread as she shut her eyes.

The pain of her very existence ran down her cheeks. "Honey, are you sure you're alright?", Margaret placed her worn hand sweetly on her shoulder and she passed behind her and sat the teacup in front of her. "Yes, yes...I'm fine" Anna stated as she wiped her face. "I'm just tired." She cradled the cup in her hands and rose it to her mouth, the smell of bleach and cleaner wafting up to her nostrils. She sipped slowly, feeling the warmness run down her throat and slowly filling her. “Well, then you should get some sleep. I’ll get the kids ready. Ally! Samson! Let’s go, your momma is here!” Miss Margaret yelled out the window. The kids ran inside, driven wild by their excitement. “Momma! Momma!” they cried, holding each other close as they stumbled through the back door. “Do we have to go now? I wanna stay”. “Not another word Ally, upstairs. Your momma’s had a hard day at work. Let’s get your things together and I’ll make you a nice snack to go”. Ally bolted upstairs, dragging Samson behind her, his feet barely touching the floor.

Miss Margaret winked at Anna and shuffled slowly away to help the kids get ready to leave. Anna buried her head in her hands, crumbling at the kitchen table. She cried silently to herself, allowing her hurt to come up and out. She picked herself up and rose from the chair, heading to meet the kids and Miss Margaret at the bottom of the staircase. “All packed up and ready to go,” Miss Margaret said with a smile. “Am I going to see you tomorrow Miss Margaret?” Ally said in a little small voice. “Why of course honey, and tomorrow we’re going to bake cookies. Won’t that be fun!”. Ally threw her hands around Miss Margaret’s neck, hugging her tightly. “I can’t wait!” Ally replied. Samson kissed Miss Margaret sweetly on the cheek and then replaced his pacifier. “Thanks again,” Anna said, looking deeply into her eyes. “Oh shug, it’s no problem at all. They help keep me young”.

Anna loaded the kids into the backseat, looking down at their small faces, and felt something that weight again deep in her chest. They were her world. She glanced over the backseat and saw it. The bag. She had taken it from the hotel room until she could figure out when or where to go with it. Her eyes welled up again, her face screwed and scattered. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

She slipped back into the front door quietly, Miss Margaret in the kitchen humming as she cleaned. Anna sat the bag down slowly on the floor as to not go noticed. She opened the little black notebook on the shelf and scribbled across the first sheet. She tore the page out with care, folding it compactly and placed it on top of the notebook. And just as quietly as she entered, she left, walking around to the driver’s door and backed out of the gravel driveway.

As she headed down the highway, she glanced into the rearview mirror. The house faded slowly behind her, along with $20,000.