The Book in Room 316

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

“Ignore him, baby,” Dawn said, leaning over to kiss her husband. “He’s just mad because he doesn’t have chops like you.”

  “I know, honey. I’m used to the jealousy by now,” Rob said, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder. “I just brush the haters off.”

  We all laughed as someone else went to the mic.

  “Come on, Clark. Your turn. You’ve got next, right?” Rob said.

  Clark leaned back in his seat, picked up his glass, and took a sip of the brown liquor. “I wish I would.”

  “Yeah, I would like to see that,” I said. No way was my husband about to get up in front of a room and make a fool of himself.

  Clark endured some more teasing before we all turned our attention to the petite woman belting out Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.”

  “Excuse me,” Clark said, flagging down a waitress, “can we get another round for me and the ladies and a seltzer for my boy here?” He pointed at Rob. “Make sure you put a little lemon drop or some Fruity Pebbles or something in his drink.”

  “Whatever,” Rob said, unfazed by the usual roasting he got because he didn’t drink, not even socially. “You can knock me all you want, but when your liver is all torn up, don’t ask me to change your diaper.”

  We all laughed as Dawn grabbed my arm.

  “Okay, come on, our turn,” Dawn told me as the Whitney singer wrapped up.

  “Our turn for what?” I asked.

  “We’re going to do En Vogue ‘Don’t Go’ or The Supremes ‘Stop! in the Name of Love,’ ” Dawn said.

  I snatched my arm away. “You can do whatever you want. I’m not getting up there.” I leaned back like Clark had done just moments ago.

  “Come on, Savannah,” Dawn pleaded.

  “Do it. Do it. Do it,” Clark and Rob said in unison as they pounded on the table.

  “You have a lot of nerve,” I told my husband.

  He flashed a wicked grin at me.

  “Come on, girl. Let’s show these men how it is done,” Dawn said.

  “You know what? You’re right,” I said, standing up and following my friend to the stage.

  We performed “Stop! in the Name of Love” and, like Rob, had the crowd going wild.

  By night’s end, I was tipsy and tired. As we bid our friends farewell, I couldn’t wait to get home with my husband.

  We had actually been home an hour when my phone rang. I had just dozed off, but I picked it up, hit the talk button, and immediately heard Dawn screaming.

  “Savannah, where’s Clark?”

  I yawned. “He’s lying next to me, asleep. Why?”

  “I was trying to call him,” she cried.

  I sat up in the bed once I realized the panic in her voice. “You know he turns his phone off. I need you to calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s . . . It’s Rob. H-he went . . . I left my credit card at the k-karaoke bar . . . and the bar . . . back . . . He went back . . . he w-went back to get it.” She was sobbing so hard her sentence was barely coherent. “And on the way back . . . the police . . . they said . . . they said . . .”

  “Okay, sweetie. Calm down. Where are you?”

  “We’re at Sugar Land Methodist,” she cried.

  My heart tightened. “The hospital? Is Rob all right?” I leaned over and shook Clark.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “All right.” I jumped up. “We’re on our way.”

  “Please hurry,” she said.

  Clark was staring at me as I hung up the phone. “What’s going on? Who was that?” he asked, his voice groggy like he’d been in a deep slumber already.

  “It’s Dawn,” I said. “There’s been an accident.” I took a deep breath before I pushed out my next words. “It’s Rob.”

  “What?” he said, all traces of sleep gone. “Is he all right?”

  “I don’t know anything. I’m assuming he is since he’s at the hospital. Dawn just . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence as Clark jumped up out of the bed. I grabbed a T-shirt and leggings out of a drawer and quickly put them on. Within minutes, we were in the car.

  Neither of us said a word as we sped down Highway 6 from our Pearland home.

  “Babe, slow down,” I finally said after the second time someone honked at us for cutting them off. I had never seen my husband so panicked.

  I was grateful when we finally arrived to the hospital, because I had been sure Clark was going to kill us on the way here. When we arrived at the waiting room, Dawn was in tears. As soon as we walked in, she raced over and threw her arms around Clark’s neck.

  “Oh, my God. It’s not good, it’s not good,” she cried.

  “It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her, before pulling back and looking her in the eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

  She fought back her sobs as she said, “It’s just not fair . . . He doesn’t drink but . . . a drunk driver hit him.”

  I was frozen.

  “But . . . he’s going to be okay, right?” Clark said.

  “I don’t know. The ER doctor said . . .” She stopped talking as a doctor appeared in the waiting room doorway.

  The way he stood at the edge of the doorway, like he didn’t want to approach us, sent my heart in a tailspin. He moved closer to Dawn, who was hanging on to Clark like he was her lifeline.

  “Mrs. Simmons?” the doctor said.

  Dawn nodded.

  The doctor shifted as if, even though he’d done this countless times, it was one of the most dreaded things he had to do. “I’m sorry to tell you this . . .”

  “Noooo . . .” Dawn wailed as her knees gave out. I raced to keep her from falling to the floor, because Clark was in shock as well.

  “You’re sorry for what?” Clark said, each word punctuated with pain. “That he’s having a hard time? That he’s injured? What are you sorry about?”

  The doctor exhaled loudly. “Mr. Simmons didn’t make it.”

  Dawn’s wails mixed with my husband’s and filled the entire waiting room.

  We’d had to stay with Dawn for the next forty-eight hours. She’d spent most of that time sedated. We were there as she told the kids. And we’d been by her side nearly every day since that happened. Only somewhere along the line, my husband’s comfort had found its way into her bed. And for that, I would never forgive either one of them.

  The Lord heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

  Ugh. I don’t know why that verse popped into my head. There was no healing from this wound. But as I approached the Highway 6 exit—the exit to Dawn’s house—I knew I couldn’t even start to heal until I faced the snake that bit me. And that thought made me veer right and off the freeway.

  + + +

  The look on Dawn’s face told me I was the last person she’d ever expected to see.

  “Oh, my God, Savannah,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you.”

  I glared at her, trying to figure out if I should snatch her by her eighteen-inch Malaysian Yaki, or just hear her out. I decided on the latter.

  “Yeah, we need to talk,” I said.

  She stepped aside and motioned for me to step inside. “Please come in.”

  “Nah, I won’t be long,” I announced.

  I’d never seen Dawn so nervous. But I’m sure she wondered if I’d snap, because my tone was so calm. She pulled the belt on her robe tighter. It was seven o’clock in the evening. Why was she already in her robe?

  “I never meant—” she began.

  “How long have you been screwing my husband?” I said, cutting her off.

  “It was just the one time,” she said, stepping out onto the porch and closing her front door. I guess she didn’t want her children to hear what a whore she was. “Savannah, I’m so sorry. You have every right to be angry.”

  I rolled my eyes and suppressed my curse words so I didn’t give her the satisfaction of losing it.

  “What Clark and I did was a onetime occurrence,” she
continued. “We’re both so sick about it. We didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  My bravado gave way to my pain. “Your kids call me auntie” was all I could say. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I know,” she replied, the trickling tears now flowing full stream. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t even understand. I don’t even like Clark like that. I mean, I have never even looked at him that way.”

  “So, you make it a habit to sleep with guys you don’t like like that?” I snapped.

  “No, I mean . . . I love Clark . . . but it’s not sexual.”

  I cocked my head at her.

  She seemed to be getting flustered. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is it was a mistake, a horrible, horrible mistake. I just missed Rob so much and Clark . . . he just . . . everything about him reminded me of Rob.”

  “Well, you can have him,” I said, tired of hearing this sob story. “So he can replace Rob and be a daddy to your kids. He’ll get the kids he wants, and you’ll get your replacement husband.”

  “The only child he wants is the one you guys were going to adopt.”

  A pain shot through my heart. I wanted to summon my Third Ward roots and slap her for mentioning the child that we’d dreamed of.

  “There’s a child out there that needs you.”

  “No, a child needs a committed couple. Clark isn’t committed to me.”

  “Yes, he is. He loves you so much.”

  “I would hate to see how he’d treat me if he didn’t.”

  She bit down on her lip, wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “All I’m saying is please forgive him. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

  She grimaced, but I really didn’t care. The fact that she was really trying to convince me to stay in a marriage she’d destroyed disgusted me.

  “Just don’t walk away from Clark,” she said.

  Her saying my husband’s name infuriated me. “You know what? This was a mistake. I don’t know what I thought I would accomplish by coming here. You and Clark can go to hell.” I turned to walk away.

  “The kids and I are moving. Away,” she said just as I stepped off the porch.

  That made me stop again. My first thought as I turned back to face her was Good riddance. But I thought about her children and the relationship I’d developed with all of them. Another ache shot through my body. I didn’t say a word, though, as she continued talking.

  “It’s been so hard here without Rob.” She ran her hands up and down her thighs like she was nervous. “And it’s difficult raising the kids alone. So I’m going back to Alabama, to be near my mom.”

  “How does Trinity feel about all of that?” I said, knowing her oldest loved her school. She was a cheerleader and senior class vice president. I could only imagine how she would take the news.

  “I haven’t told her yet. She’s going to be devastated, but she’ll survive.”

  This transgression not only ruined my life. It was ruining the lives of those innocent children. “So are you running from my husband?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “This has nothing to do with Clark. It’s the void. The hole in my heart I feel about losing Rob. Everything here reminds me of him.” She lowered her head again. “Clark reminded me of him. That’s all it was.” She swallowed, managed to look me in the eyes again. “I’m hoping that the move will give the children and me a fresh start.”

  She wasn’t going to get to me. Even though she was using her children to try.

  “Well, have a nice life,” I said. I turned again to leave, and this time she reached out to stop me. My eyes immediately went down to her hand on my arm, which she quickly moved away.

  “I’m just telling you that we’re leaving, so you don’t have to worry about me. It would never happen again, regardless of whether I stayed or not. But I’ll be gone, so you won’t have to be reminded of our horrible indiscretion. Give Clark another chance. Just forgive him. Begin the healing process.”

  “I don’t take advice from whores,” I said.

  That seemed like it stung, but again, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the pain written all over her face. It would never match the pain that was written all over my heart.

  “I will spend the rest of my life regretting this. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive us,” she said. “My children—and I—are going to miss you.”

  A dejected aura hung over her. She looked like she wanted to hug me, but I guess she knew better, because she simply turned and walked back into the house. I pushed away any feelings about her children’s departure as I made my way to my car. As I climbed in the driver’s seat, I pushed down the bile building in my throat.

  How in the world could I ever recover from this pain?

  chapter

  * * *

  9

  I had a dream last night. In it, Clark and I had two children—the one I lost and the one we were adopting. The dream had been so vivid. We were all enjoying Thanksgiving dinner. Even my mother was there, along with extended family members. Everyone at the table was so happy and my children wouldn’t stop smiling.

  I’d awakened from that dream in tears. That was a life I would never know.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. After my live shot last night, I’d come back to the hotel and turned off my phone because Clark had started calling around seven and hadn’t stopped. Seeing Dawn had only exacerbated my pain, so I had come back to the room and cried myself to sleep.

  Now I needed to pull myself together. Lift this emotional cloud that hung over me. Maybe a shower would help me feel better. But as I stepped into the bathroom, I realized I had no towels and my room hadn’t been cleaned in the four days that I’d been here. I had the Do Not Disturb sign on my door. Since I had told the front desk that I would call when I was ready for the room to be cleaned, I couldn’t be mad that I didn’t have fresh towels.

  I opened the door, hoping to see housekeeping in the hallway so that I could get some towels. I spotted the housekeeper’s cart at the end of the hall, so I put up the door bolt to keep my door from locking and walked down the hall.

  The door to Room 320 was open, and I assumed the housekeeper was in there cleaning. I was about to tap on the open door when I heard her on the phone.

  “Imelda, you’ve got to stop crying,” the woman said. “Hector is not the first man who cheated and he won’t be the last one. I told you, you can get past this.”

  Of course, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I had to stop. Was everyone in the world cheating? I was riveted to her conversation. The housekeeper was so passionate yet soothing in her words.

  “All I’m saying,” she said, her voice rich with a thick Latin-American accent, “is you just have to pray. If he’s willing to do the work, then you can make this work.”

  If he’s willing to do the work, then you can make this work.

  I knew Clark would do whatever necessary, put in as much work as needed. But I didn’t see how that would ever be enough.

  I felt some kind of way about listening to her conversation. So I gently tapped the door.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  She stopped making the bed and looked up at me, startled.

  “I’ll have to call you back,” she said, turning off her phone and dropping it into her apron. “I’m s-so sorry,” she stammered. “It was an emergency.”

  “Hey. It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not going to report you.”

  She seemed to relax. “We’re not supposed to be on our phones.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “It sounds like you were a big help to whomever you were talking to.”

  She shrugged, like she dispensed helpful advice every day. “My friend is having a hard time,” she said. Concern filled her eyes, but then it shifted from her friend to me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  My hand i
nstinctively went to my hair, and I turned and saw my reflection in the mirror. I saw why she asked. My eyes were puffy and the makeup from my live shot was smeared since I hadn’t bothered to wash my face before bed. My bun had unraveled and my hair was also matted; I looked like I’d been on someone’s battlefield.

  “I’m okay,” I lied. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to get some fresh towels.”

  She scurried over to her cart and handed me two towels. “Are you in 316?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Okay. I’ve been told not to disturb you. But are you sure you don’t want me to clean your room?”

  I thought about it. I probably did need the sheets changed and some tidying up, but I didn’t feel like leaving. “If you don’t mind straightening up around me,” I said.

  “Of course,” she replied. “I’m just finishing up here. I can come right after. It will only take me a few minutes.”

  I smiled in appreciation and made my way back down to my room. I’d wait until she finished to jump in the shower. In the meantime, I took a seat at the desk and pulled out my laptop to draft an email to my boss. After my exclusive report, I was in her good graces. But barring any more breaking news, I knew that I needed at least a week off. Since I never called in sick and rarely took vacation, I had plenty of days. Because I didn’t want to get Margie in any trouble with the higher-ups, I wanted to put my leave request in writing. I knew I was going to have to make a decision soon because I couldn’t stay holed up in this hotel forever, but I needed a few more days.

  “Housekeeping,” the housekeeper called as she tapped on my door.

  “Come on in.”

  She flashed a warm smile. “I won’t take long.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just going to sit here at the desk and do some work if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” She immediately began changing the sheets. When I opened up my Gmail account, I saw four new emails from Clark. I clicked on the first one.

  Please come home. I’m so sorry.

  I sent the message to the trash. Then I dumped the other three without bothering to open them. I don’t know what made me say anything, but I turned to the housekeeper and said, “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but your friend, her husband cheated on her?”