The annoying cawing of my alarm clock blared in my ears, causing my arm to swing straight up and then down on the button of my salvation. With one knock, the clock stopped and my arm slipped down over my bed, swinging back and forth like a weary pendulum. I lay in bed, looking out at the shower curtain that separated me from my mother. I didn’t see any movement from her side, so I assumed she was still asleep. Pulling my head back under my covers and tucking it underneath my pillow, I settled for a couple more winks before I heard the shrieking of the metal rings swoosh to the side and my mother was in my room, talking.
“Baby, get up, we’re taking a road trip.”
I inhaled deeply and let out a catlike stretch. Sighing, I mumbled, “Right now? Why? Where?”
“I thought about last night at the motel your father owned. I think we should go. So, pack up, it’ll be a good drive. I know it’s early, but I don’t want to get there really late.” Her voice faded in the background along with the bustling of suitcases and creaking front door. I remained in the bed, believing that if I stayed there, she would forget about me. But I knew better.
Throwing the covers off victoriously, I popped myself out of bed, itched that spot on the back of my neck, and wandered into the bathroom. I turned on the faucets, releasing a pitiful stream of icy cold water. Pursing my lips to one side, I cupped my hands under the trickle and rinsed my face. I looked up and stared at my face, searching for any teenage growths that shouldn’t be there. I had shaved yesterday (or the day before yesterday), so I was spared of that task. I walked back to my room to find the bed made and my clothes lay out. I smiled softly and pulled on the selected garments.
I smoothed my hair, slipped on my sneakers, and headed out to meet my mom by the car. She seemed eager to go, as she wore that methodical, “don’t interrupt me” face. She even had a list to make sure she had everything: she was never one to be organized. As she pitter-pattered around the house, pointing her pencil at the places she had taken things from and talking aloud, I tucked my hands in my pocket, shifted my jaw, and straightened my shoulders.
“Hey, Mom,” I stuttered.
“What is it, Oliver?” she chirped in reply, tucking the yellow pencil now behind her ear.
“Why are we going now? What’s the hurry?”
“Well, the man who has been holding the property said if we don’t put our name in; go there and show our faces, he’ll sell it.”
I didn’t see the point of us wanting to keep an orphaned motel. In my soft, defenseless voice, I said, “Couldn’t we, perhaps, sell the motel? Get money to pay off our trailer?” My shoulder found the wall behind me, making it more tolerable to stand and look comfortable.
My mother shook her head, “No, I think it’d be very disrespectful to do so, especially since that’s all your dear father left us.” She hurried out to our worn-out, sunshine yellow 1972 Honda Civic. I hated that car. The turning radius was horrible, got stuck whenever we braked and had to turn, which was at every stoplight. And I constantly had to push it to jumpstart it. It was an awful car. My mother threw the final item into the backseat and motioned me to get ready to push the car. I dutifully rolled up my sleeves and locked my arms against the back. I heard the engine groan, the motor crank, and the wheels turn ever so slightly on the ground below.
I heard my mom shout an order, and though I didn’t know exactly what she said, I knew what she meant. Digging my feet into the slippery soil behind me, I heaved against the metal, putting my back into it. I felt the muscles between my shoulder blades burn and my forearms trembled a bit. Gritting my teeth and dropping my head, I gave another shove from my legs, pushing the car out from the tiny rut it had settled into. When it was running by itself, I ran to the passenger side and hopped it. It was a success!
We pulled out onto the highway headed to nowhere. We had a map (that was just as confusing as when we had first purchased it), and lots of food in case we had to make numerous stops. I slept most of the way, waking up once for a break and a snack. My mom and I talked some, mostly about my father. “What was he like?” were one of my questions. My mom took some time to think about it, making me wonder if there was nothing she could remember of him, or he meant so much to her that she didn’t know where to start. She eventually replied bluntly, “He was sweet when he wanted to be. Most of the time he lived in his own world.”
I then got the nerve to ask her, “Why did you fall in love with him?”
My mom didn’t take much time to think on this one, she said with an almost embarrassed and angered laugh, “Because I saw someone who was more broken than me.”
I remember how quiet the atmosphere became. Her face dropped and I could see she was fighting against emotions. I thought it strange that anyone would love another being for that reason. Had she committed herself to him out of self-pity from her own life? Did she think that loving someone who was even more broken than her, improve her self-image? I wasn’t sure, but it felt like something I would’ve done.
At last, we pulled into the dusty parking lot. The sunset was burning a strong orange and the smell of isolation was clear. I felt my body stiffen; my fingers clutching the sides of my seat as I realized how far away we were from civilization. I was never one that enjoyed being alone; I always had someone to keep me company. I looked up at the large neon sign as we putted into a “parking space”. For no particular reason, I shivered in my seat.
“I’m going to talk to the owner, “ my mom said as she folded up the map.
I looked out the window and saw a black lab race towards our car, baying and growling. His long tail propelled behind him, and his white teeth flashed ever so often. I stayed in the car while my mother bravely got out. The dog barked at her, but then found more interest in me behind the car window.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled to the back of the car. I moved the baggage out of the way from the back window and watched in boredom as my mother talked to the temporary owner with a clipboard. I saw her point to me, making me duck slightly, but then she resumed her conversation, pulling the attention off of me. My fingers twitched in anticipation and I watched carefully as she signed a piece of paper. The man tilted his baseball cap and called his lab. The dog bolted to him and the two of them headed down to his truck, which I assumed had all his belongings. I returned to the front seat at the sight of my mother returning.
The driver door opened and she said cheerfully, “It’s ours now! Help me carry things in.”
“Can we go out to eat afterwards?” I asked eagerly. Food was usually the first thing on my mind, if it wasn’t mythology.
My mom was hesitant as she pulled a box from the backseat. She chewed on her bottom lip and then said unsurely, “I think that’d be good. But I have to drive a bit down the road to get essentials and stuff. We’re going to stay here for a week until more paperwork about ownership comes in and then we can go back home.”
I smiled and helped her bring our items in the house. I thought it odd that she had packed two more suitcases for me, as I always wear one outfit for at least two weeks. But I supposed she had a good reason. I followed her onto the wooden front porch and through a screen door. I saw the reception desk, lit softly by an overhead lamp. There was even a guestbook laid out with a pen resting in its center. I smirked at the vintage view. With two suitcases in my hands, it was hard to maneuver through the hallway to the guest bedrooms, but I managed.
“Is that all, Mom?” I asked, placing my load onto the floor at the foot of the white linen bed. “Mom?” I looked up, catching sight of a bird painting, and then the faint flickering of light outside my room. Cocking my head to one side, I followed it down the hall to where my mom had turned on the main light, and then out onto the front steps. Chewing thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek, and turned my head in both directions until I saw activity in a room several doors down from the entrance.
It was the office.
I stepped into a den with a table in the center and two large, comfy chairs on opposite sides. My mother stood staring up at a stuffed owl. I laughed softly through my nose and said quietly, “What are you looking at?”
“Your father told me about the animals he preserved; they’re very expressive, don’t you think?” she turned to me, her eyes moist with tears and her heart to her chest.
I shrugged, “They’re all right. Do you want me to put your stuff in your room?”
“No, it’s all right, I’ll do it, thank you.” She broke eye-contact with the stuffed owl and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll go out and get groceries, you stay here, all right?”
I stared at her, as if she was joking. She knew how much I hated being alone. Shifting my weight, I rubbed my chin on my raised shoulder. “Really?” I asked in a childlike manner.
“It’ll be all right, Oliver, I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, one of us has to stay here.”
I looked away, my eyes wondering to a window on the far side of the room. There, under the blue moonlight, was a house on a hill. “Who lives there?”
My mother turned around, her index finger resting on her chin. She shook her head, “I don’t know. Norman said that was where his mother had lived; your grandmother.”
“Is she alive?” I inquired.
“No, sadly she passed away from an illness. Now, why don’t you find something in the fridge, or something to pass the time, okay?” She kissed my head again and went out the room. On her way out, she grabbed some fresh bathroom towels and handed them to me. I followed her to the front door. “Put those in the bathroom when you get a chance, okay?”
“Why couldn’t we stay up at that house?”
“I don’t think that belongs to us anymore. Your father had to sell that.”
I watched mournfully as she waved good-bye and drove out of the lot. I stood at the entrance with my body leaning on a wooden post and my hands cradling the white towel. I gave her another wave, not knowing that that was our last wave. She didn’t come back. Late into the night, I never saw her car pull in. At times, I thought she had a car accident, but then I realized that there were no cars on the highway and that it shouldn’t be different on the way back.
I wanted to use the phone, but it had to be repaired. With a heavy heart, I walked into the guest bedroom and sunk down on the bed. I placed my hand over my nearby suitcase, stroking it as if it was the one thing that reminded me of the comfort my home. In doing so, I had the sudden thought that perhaps she had left a note for me somewhere. In excitement, I clicked open the suitcase and searched my clothes, but no message was there. I did the same to the two other suitcases, but still no note. Returning to the bed, I consoled myself with the belief that I was to watch the motel until she came back.
“Maybe she’ll come back tomorrow?” I said to myself, dropping my head onto the pillow. I stared out at the bird painting until I fell asleep.