Places to Stay the Night

by Ann Hood

  Libby worried about losing Jeremy to the harpist. But what worried her even more was how lately, at night, she found herself missing Tom and her kids. She even found herself missing Holly and her house. She had chosen everything in that house carefully, studying swatches of fabric and wallpaper samples for weeks. There had been a time, very long ago, when she had loved that house and everything in it.

  When she closed her eyes Libby sometimes got a clear image of winter there, of the way the cold air tasted in her mouth, the snow in the woods and the ice clinging to the trees like crystal. She had read somewhere that palm trees were not even indigenous to California. This fact troubled her. She developed a litany of trees back home, trees that belonged there. Maple, birch, pine, and elm. Maple, birch, pine, and elm. Reciting their names at night helped her fall asleep.

  “Again” Dana said.

  Caitlin did not hesitate. “The day after graduation—”

  “The day of—”

  “Okay,” Caitlin said. “The day of. We get in my car, just the two of us and one suitcase, and we hit the Mass. Pike—”

  “Out of town,” Dana said. She sighed and stared up at the winter sky. In Australia, she thought, people gazing upward saw a whole different sky. They saw. Gemini, Cancer, Leo.

  “And we get us an apartment in the East Village and dress in black and go to foreign films—we have to start calling them films instead of movies—and we need to maybe stop shaving under our arms.”

  Dana frowned. “Really?”

  “Maybe.”

  For their entire lives Caitlin had been in charge. She always made their decisions and plans—whose birthday party to go to, whose to avoid, which haircuts to get and whether or not they should have long nails, suntans, pierced ears. Having Caitlin there to do these things always made Dana feel safe and sure.

  This was their New Year’s resolution. To firm up their plans. To figure out their escape. After work on Friday nights now, they climbed the fire escape to the roof of Pizza Pizzazz. Closer to the stars, Caitlin had said the first night they did this. Now it was a ritual, as if doing this over and over would make their plans really happen.

  Caitlin finished off the last of the pizza they’d brought up there with them. The special, a four-cheese one called Quattro Formaggio. Gorgonzola, mozzarella, fontina, and Parmesan. “And we’ll paint the walls, like, red. Something wild. Bright. And we’ll go to Nell’s and that place I read about in People. What is it? The Robert DeNiro one?”

  “The Tribeca Grill,” Dana said. She loved the way that sounded. “Tribeca Grill,” she said again.

  Caitlin stretched out flat, and smiled. “I’m going to get my pictures taken here. Bring my portfolio with me. And you could make a demo tape of your songs before we go. That way, we can take that city by storm, right off.” She made her thumb and forefinger into a pistol and shot at the sky. “Bang,” she said.

  New Year’s resolutions. Plan escape. Plan new life. Leave ’em laughing when you go. That was what Dana had tucked into the corner of her bedroom mirror, written on a piece of hot pink notebook paper, the ends all curly, the lines straight and blue.

  Caitlin said she should get a belt and put notches in it, the way guys did. For Christmas, she had even given Dana one as a joke. What Dana didn’t tell her was that she did make small lines on the back of that belt. Already there were a lot. Caitlin always told her she should be a rock star. And rock stars, Dana told herself, were wild. They wrecked hotel rooms and drank strong whiskey. They had experience. They looked tough. She started to wear a black leather jacket, thick black eyeliner, and dark lipstick. She always wore her ripped jeans and the belt with the secret lines. She was growing her hair but for now teased it real high and messy, spraying it so it didn’t budge. So when she woke up in the morning in somebody’s dorm room, it looked exactly the same. She drank Jack Daniel’s, straight, and called it Jack.

  Every Saturday night, after work, while Caitlin went off with Kevin and Mike and Mike’s new girl, Trudi Martinez, Dana went to another party at Williams. She changed guys every couple of weeks. She made sure Billy saw her. After Justin there was Rick, then Harry, who was actually Justin’s cousin, although she didn’t find that out until later. They all told her her skin was soft. Butter, silk, velvet. “Are you protected?” they whispered. Always the same. This week her date was John Somebody from New Jersey. She didn’t need to drink very much before she started to rub against them. All she needed was for Billy to notice.

  She never felt bad until Sunday night when she was home in her own bed. Sometimes, after she washed off her makeup and combed out her hair and put on her old candy-cane-striped pajamas with the feet in the bottom, she would get into bed and sob. She never knew for sure why she was crying, and it never made her feel better. The only thing that helped was to think about that summer day when she and Caitlin would drive out of town.

  Dana told Caitlin every detail about the sex. How some guys had long thin penises, and some hooked a little in one direction. How some were pink and some were dark. She told Caitlin how to have an orgasm. How if you got on top and made round motions, pressing against the guy, it never ever failed. You should keep notes, Caitlin told her. Or a diary or something because when you’re famous they’ll publish it. Your memoirs. Dana had laughed, but really she couldn’t think of anything worse than everybody knowing about what went on in those dorm rooms in the dark.

  John had a reddish face, thin lips, and pale hair. He was a little too thin, and too tall to whisper to.

  “So I decided to do my senior thesis on my Irish ancestors and spent all last summer touring there by bike. You can never start your research too soon.”

  She was amazed by how much they talked. All of them. Like they were going to be great friends. Like they’d keep calling her three weeks from now. She finished her glass of Jack and refilled it from the small flask she carried in her jacket pocket. She thought the flask added character, made her seem tough.

  “Have you visited there?” John asked her.

  She wanted to tell him the truth, that she’d give anything to go anywhere. But she narrowed her eyes at him instead and turned on the act. “Are you fucking serious, man?” she said. She laughed loud so Billy could hear her. “I’ve never been farther than exit nine.” She stood on tiptoe so she could see him better. “But,” she said, “my father wants to take the whole family to Plymouth Rock.”

  John nodded. “Well, sure,” he said. “That would be interesting.”

  She rolled her heavily made-up eyes at him, then turned them upward. “Give me a fucking break,” she said.

  The ride to Plymouth Rock was long and boring and hot. Renata’s kid, Millie, couldn’t get a chill because she had some kind of disease that was a big mystery. So Tom kept the heat turned way up and Dana sat sweating in the back seat, next to Troy’s stuck-up girlfriend. Jenny kept saying inane things like “This is so exciting!” or “Plymouth Rock! I can’t wait.” She was from some distant state that started with an M. Montana or Minnesota. One of those states that seemed like a big blank square to Dana. Not unlike Jenny’s mind, Dana thought, smiling to herself. Blank and square.

  Dana had been with John again last night. Thinking about him was not very exciting. So far, he was the dullest of the bunch. So she closed her eyes and thought about Billy instead. She imagined him coming over to her at one of the socials and telling her he was going crazy with jealousy. “I left Melissa,” he’d say. “I have to have you.”

  From the front seat, Renata’s and Millie’s voices sounded like annoying bees buzzing around the car. It was hard to even daydream with them around. They never stopped talking. They were into this great mother/daughter friendship thing. They made Dana sick.

  “Ooooohhhh,” Jenny squealed. “Only ten more miles. I can’t wait.”

  Renata cornered Dana in the candle shop.

  “I told your father this trip would bore you to death,” she said.

  Behind them, women dressed like Pilgri
ms, in long gray skirts and white bonnets, were demonstrating the Colonial technique for candlemaking.

  Dana narrowed her eyes at Renata. She didn’t trust her. “Oh, yeah?” Dana said. She pretended to yawn. “Well, I think it’s fascinating.” She hesitated, then said, “Fucking fascinating.”

  Renata did not even blink. “Well,” she said, “I think it’s a real bore.” And then she walked away. She was so big, she had to stand sideways to squeeze past the rows of tourists watching the demonstration.

  Dana watched her walk away. Renata, she decided, was one of these fake I’m-your-friend types. Nothing bothered her. Not swearing or smoking cigarettes or anything. As long as you thought she was hip, that was enough for her.

  “Guess what this is?” Millie said, appearing suddenly at Dana’s side. She held out a candle.

  “A candle?” Dana said.

  Millie laughed. “Of course it’s a candle. But what flavor?”

  Dana sniffed it. “Blueberry.”

  “Right,” Millie said. She took Dana’s hand as easily as if they walked hand in hand all the time. “Let’s find some other flavors,” she said.

  Her hand was warm and dry, so small that Dana could practically feel all the bones in it. It was like holding a skeleton’s hand.

  Millie stopped along the way to sniff different candles. Each time she made Dana guess. Cranberry. Vanilla.

  “Chocolate?” Dana guessed, tired of the game.

  Millie laughed and shook her head. Who, Dana wondered, would let their kid get a haircut like Sinead O’Connor’s? Only Miss Cool.

  “Spaghetti?” Dana said, sending Millie into a fresh fit of giggles.

  She saw her father watching the fake Pilgrims make candles. He actually seemed interested. Now he was even asking a question.

  “Give up?” Millie said.

  Dana sighed. “Yes,” she said. “I give up.”

  Millie’s eyes twinkled. “It’s belly button!” she said.

  Without even thinking about it, Dana started to laugh too.

  “For the first week, “Caitlin said, “we’ll play tourists. You know, go to the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. Stuff like that. And then we’ll pretend we wouldn’t get caught dead doing that stuff. Like it was beneath us.”

  Dana blew her breath out in long streams, to watch it turn into steam in the cold night air. It was supposed to snow, and the sky was already cloudy, blocking out the stars and moon.

  “You know what I really want to do?” Caitlin said.

  When she talked, Dana watched her breath fog the night air too.

  “Hear a symphony. A whole orchestra playing something really beautiful. Violins and everything.”

  “Do you know,” Dana said, “that they cost like eighty dollars? And you don’t even know the names of all those instruments.”

  “Man,” Caitlin said, “we have got to really start saving money.”

  Dana already had almost four hundred dollars in her sock drawer. Since she had started dating these college boys, she never spent any money. She laughed at the word “dating.” “Ha!” she said out loud.

  “Ha what?” Caitlin said.

  “Ha ha.”

  “You are so weird sometimes.”

  Dana looked away from her and up at the starless sky. “Want to go to one of these college things with me tomorrow night?” she said, trying to sound offhanded about it.

  “What?” Caitlin said between bites of pizza. “Does this John guy have a friend or something?”

  “I’m not seeing him anymore,” Dana said. Sometimes she was amazed at how she could control her voice, make it sound any way she wanted. “It’s this guy Warren. And his brother from some prep school. They are loaded. Warren drives a Porsche.”

  “No kidding?” Caitlin hesitated.

  “It’s just for a goof, right?” Dana said. “I mean, we just want to get some experience before we hit the big city.”

  “Uh-huh,” Caitlin said. “What would I tell Kevin, though?”

  “Fuck him. Who cares? Tell him he’s an asshole. Tell him he’s a neanderthal. Tell him he’s history.”

  “It would be nice to spend a Saturday night doing something else. You cannot imagine what it’s like having to talk to that slut Trudi Martinez. I mean, she hardly even knows Mike and she’s like a rabbit with him.”

  “Yeah,” Dana said.

  “I mean,” Caitlin said quickly, “she’s not after adventure. Like us. That’s why she’s such a slut.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dana said. Sometimes, on those Sunday nights when she was alone in bed, she used that word too. She thought, I’m a slut. She called herself other names to see how they felt. Sometimes that was what made her cry. She wondered what her mother would say if she knew. She probably wouldn’t even care. That’s nice, she’d say, and go back to staring at herself in the mirror while Lite-105 played sappy songs in the background.

  “You won’t be mad if I don’t go, will you?” Caitlin was saying.

  “No,” Dana said. “It’s not that much fun anyway.”

  “In New York we’ll be out together every night, right?”

  Dana turned her head away from Caitlin, out of the light. She did not want her friend to see that she was crying.

  “Okay,” Troy said to Nadine. “I’m here. Now what do you want.”

  He had agreed to meet her in the diner in town. He figured he was safe in public. He figured he could get her off his back once and for all. It was a snowy Saturday morning. One of those days when Troy felt as if he was living in a postcard of New England. He would get this over with Nadine and then surprise Jenny by showing up with a toboggan and taking her to Strawberry Hill.

  Nadine looked bad. All nervous like a wild animal. Her eyes were too shiny and Troy knew she was on something big time.

  They had both ordered coffee, but Nadine didn’t even touch hers, except to dump in six packets of sugar and then to stir it over and over until Troy thought he’d go nuts.

  “I need you,” she said, her eyes darting across his face. “I mean it. How could you do this to me?”

  She was wearing a sleeveless Danskin, despite the freezing weather and the snow. He could see goose bumps on her arms, and her nipples standing out, hard against the black fabric. He made himself look away, but it was too late. He shifted in his seat.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “We broke up. That’s all.”

  “I see you everywhere with that blond girl,” Nadine said. Her eyes were getting teary now.

  Troy looked around the diner nervously. He didn’t want her to start bawling in public. But the waitress was reading the Boston Globe and smoking a cigarette and the two guys at the counter were staring at their plates.

  “So what?” he said. “Look,” he added, his voice low, “why don’t you put your coat on?” She’d come in with one of those fake rabbit coats, a white one with black patches everywhere.

  “Can we get out of here?” she said. “I’m starting to get really upset.”

  Her voice sounded too loud and the waitress glanced up from the paper, frowning. “You want more coffee?” she said.

  “No,” Troy said, standing. “No. We’re going.”

  He put some money on the table, and grabbed Nadine by the arm. He knew he was being rough with her, but he didn’t care. He was starting to feel weird. Last week, he’d surprised Jenny with a scrimshaw ring. They’d seen it when they were in Plymouth that day, and while she was watching a demonstration on blacksmiths, he’d run back to the store and bought it for her. When he gave it to her last week, she’d told him she was never going to take it off. Ever, she’d said.

  Outside, the wind howled and the snow hit them in the face, all cold and wet. Still, Troy could see that Nadine was really crying now.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Come on. Stop.”

  She tried to talk, but all that came out were little gulping noises.

  Troy took her arm again and pushed her toward his car. He didn’t w
ant to be seen standing here on Main Street with her like this.

  Inside, he turned the radio on. Jenny always liked Lite-105, and it was still on that station from last night when they’d gone to a party together. Since Plymouth, they’d started to see each other on Friday and Saturday nights. He and Nadine used to play the hard rock station. Now, the Eagles were singing “Desperado.” But she didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy crying.

  Troy pulled out of the parking lot and started driving around, real slow because the streets were so slippery. He could hear the toboggan tumbling around in the trunk. He kept thinking about how he and Nadine used to get drunk and speed around town. Even last winter she’d roll down the window and stick her head out and sing at the top of her lungs with the radio. Later, her face against his thighs would still be cold.

  He heard a groan and looked up, surprised. So did Nadine. It had come from him.

  She had taken her coat off again. He would not look down past her neck. He made himself think about all those nights parked in front of Jenny’s house, making those endless circles over her sweater. She had more sweaters than anyone he knew. They all looked the same too, soft colors with snowflake yokes. When it was real cold, she wore a matching turtleneck underneath. After he gave her the scrimshaw ring, she’d let him move his hand under both sweaters, to her bra. But that was all.

  “Stop right here,” Nadine said. She was still crying.

  They were on a back road somewhere near the quarry. When he turned the car off, the windshield was immediately covered with snow. It blinded him. For a moment, with Nadine whimpering beside him like that, Troy could almost pretend nothing else existed. He could forget the pretty blond girl from Minnesota and the scrimshaw ring. The weight of whatever it was he was trying to prove seemed to lift, to leave him. His mind felt all blurry and when Nadine leaned toward him and pushed her lips hard against his, he thought he could do almost anything out here as the snow fell and hid them from sight.

  Nadine tasted like gum and smoke, a combination that was as familiar as the smells of his mother, all Beautiful and coconut hair spray.