by Anna Brooks
“Yeah, I do. The hollow feeling where—”
The ringing of my phone interrupts, indicating Meara calling on the screen.
“You heard anything?” I’ve called both Meara and Pierce to let them know what was happening. They checked her place and have been looking, too.
“She’s fine, she’s okay.” Breathless, Meara continues, “She’s at a hotel by the interstate. Some pay by the day thing.”
That’s in a shitty part of town. How did she get there?
“I’m on my way.”
“Wait!”
I barely hear her as I pull the phone away to hang up. Brandon stands with his arms crossed eyeing me expectantly as I mouth Pay-By-Day Motel and get in my car. I’m already pulling onto the street before I put the phone back to my ear.
“What’s up?” I need to get to Charlotte.
“She told me not to call you, Travis.”
“What?” I whisper, hurt she doesn’t want me. It doesn’t matter. I’m getting her back.
“She told me what happened. Well, I barely understood because she was crying so hard, but she told me. Listen, I wanted you to know she’s okay.”
“I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t want me, I’m going.”
“Travis, I—”
“I don’t fucking care! She’s mine to take care of, Meara. Mine. This running away shit has got to fucking stop. I’m done with it.”
I hear her hesitate. “Maybe you should give her some time.”
“Nope. Not happening. Thanks for the call.” I hang up on her and throw the phone in the passenger seat. I do a double take when I notice Char’s purse on the floor in the back. She has no money, no phone. Jesus. The hammering in my chest creeps into my head, and I shake the horrible thoughts jumbling my mind right now. I’m so mad at her; but really, I want to hold her. I need to hold her.
“I called Dad. He let everyone know and said they’re available if we need them.” Brandon followed me here and flashed his badge at the old lady working the desk.
Pay-By-Day is a cheap motel on the outskirts of town. It’s dirty, small, smelly, old, and nasty. We’re waiting for her to look through her book, and the trash littering the floor moves, I actually jump a bit.
“The garbage is moving,” I whisper shout to Brandon.
“So?”
“So, what the fuck is this place?”
“Primarily it’s where druggies go to get laid. You can pay by the hour.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m a detective; it’s my job to know this shit.”
The attendant insists nobody is here by that name. Brandon holds me back before I reach over and grab the keys to check every room myself.
“I’m really sorry, boys. Nobody has checked in since yesterday.” She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead and shrugs her shoulders. “You can ask the maid if she’s seen her. She’s all the way at the end. Number twenty-five.”
“We’ll do that. Thanks for your help.” Brandon taps the counter, and we walk out.
My feelings have turned into this nervous energy of anticipation. I know she’s here.
“I’ll ask the questions since you have such a pleasant bedside manner,” Brandon says as he reaches up to knock on the door marked twenty-five. Well, I’m assuming it’s twenty-five since it’s the last one on the end. The number two hangs on by a thread, and the five is missing.
“Chicago PD. I need to ask a couple questions.”
Hushed voices sound through the cheap wood door, and I can barely make out Charlotte’s voice. But I can still hear it. She’s in there.
“I swear to Christ, Charlotte, if you don’t open this damn door, I will break it down.”
“Dude.” Brandon elbows me, but I ignore the sting.
The distinct sound of metal chains and deadbolts unlocking rings through the silent parking lot, and the knob finally turns.
Brandon takes a step back, and when the door opens, the woman on the other side gasps at the same time Brandon’s knees buckle. I grab his arm, and he steadies immediately.
“No. No.” I recognize the soft, throaty voice, but it takes me a minute to put a face to a name.
“Mary?” I ask, confirming she’s who I think, an old friend of my brother’s.
She nods her head, and tears roll out of her eyes that never leave Brandon’s. His expression is one of turmoil and heartbreak. He shakes his head as if to clear it and takes a step toward Mary. She takes a step back. He flinches like she slapped him but keeps walking until he’s in her room.
I look in and see my beautiful girl on the bed, with her knees bent and arms wrapped around them. Her hair is windblown and messy, her face clear of makeup. Faint black lines surround her eyes from where she must have wiped them.
She kneels up on the bed, and I take a step in. Brandon and Mary are standing off to the side, staring at each other, not saying a word. When my knees hit the mattress, Char throws herself at me and begins apologizing.
“I’m so sorry, Travis.”
“Are you okay? I was fucking terrified something bad happened to you.” I rub her back and talk so only she can hear me. “Please, don’t ever do that again. No more running, sweetheart, I can’t go through that again.”
“I won’t.” Her arms and legs wind around me, and I lift her off the bed. When I turn for the door, I lift my head at Brandon, and he briefly looks away from Mary and shakes his. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
“Thanks, man. Good seeing you, Mary.” Neither of them answers me, and with Charlotte in tow, I walk out and set her in the car. Before I shut the door, she grabs my wrist.
“Promise you won’t leave me.”
My lips tip up in a small smile, and I lean down and kiss her cheek. “I will if you will.”
Chapter 17
Charlotte
“I’M SORRY. I CAN’T do this!” I jump out of Travis’ arms and immediately miss the warmth they provide.
As soon as I’m out of the front door, I run. Fast. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get away. My thighs burn and my breath is ragged. I pick up the pace when I faintly hear Travis yell my name. Convinced this is one of the most messed-up situations ever in the history of the earth, I run even faster. The nice neighborhood his parents live in is far behind me now. The houses become smaller and the litter more abundant. I crouch down between two buildings in an attempt to catch my breath.
I’m exhausted. I’m petrified. Looking at my surroundings, I’m also lost. In my haste to get away, I didn’t grab my purse out of Travis’ car, so now I have no money and no phone.
I tried to stay calm, I really did. After I fainted, I used the breathing techniques my therapist, Travis’ mother, taught me. My heart races again at the thought. Everything that I’ve been holding in explodes out. The breath I caught is suddenly lost as the choked sobs overtake my body.
I was so close to having him, so close to everything finally being okay. His mother, his fucking mother, knows everything. There’s no way I could look her in the eye and forget she knows. Details. Dirty, disgusting details of how Todd would fuck me. The things he would say to me. How I got off on it. How I let him pay my bills. He paid for my school, my mortgage, and my mother’s medical bills. Then he came over and fucked me once a week for almost three years. I’m no better than a prostitute.
“Hey, are you alright?” I look at a pair of shiny Nikes and my eyes trail up to a super cute, super tall woman. She looks to be a little older than me, and I notice a scar running along her whole right arm. Her brown hair is in a ponytail.
“Umm, yeah.” I stand and wince a little at the soreness in my legs. “Where are we?”
“Almost outside the city.”
“Oh. Shit.” My feet scrape along the concrete, and I wrap my arms around myself, for both comfort and warmth. “Do you have a phone I could use?”
“Believe it or not, I don’t. But if you want to come back with me to my place, I’ll let
you use that one.” Her voice is kind and soft, albeit a little raspy.
“No offense, but I don’t know you.” I rub my fingers at my temples. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude. I had the worst day of my life, and I’m all fucked-up.”
“Hey.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been there, honey. I promise I just want to give you a hand. When I was at my worst, someone did that for me, and it saved my life.”
I hesitate, and she rolls her eyes. “Listen, I want to help you out. You’re obviously not from this neighborhood, you’re sweating, have makeup running down your face, and look scared as hell. If you don’t want to come with me, fine. But I need to get back, so if you’re coming with me, you better do it now.”
I look around the alley and notice the streetlights are beginning to flicker on. She tosses a bag of garbage in a dumpster and pulls a key out of her shoe. Before she goes to walks away, she asks, “You coming or not?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
I follow her through the alley.
“Come on. My car’s in the front.”
I trail behind her to the front of the building. She points at her car.
“That’s my piece of shit. Can’t believe it’s lasted this long.”
She’s right; it is a piece of shit. What once was probably white is almost yellow, and there’s more rust than paint. The door squeaks and drops a little as I open it. Surprisingly, the inside is clean and actually smells good. The driver’s side door squeaks a little louder than mine does, and she gets in and puts the keys in the ignition.
“Cross your fingers.”
Then she turns the large silver key and the engine makes a loud screech before rumbling to a start.
“Whew. It normally takes a few tries; you must be a good luck charm.” She smiles and punches my shoulder lightly.
The drive is silent, and takes about twenty minutes before she angles the car into a motel.
“Umm…”
“I know, it’s a shit place, but it’s my home. Come on, I’ll tell you once we get inside.”
I hesitate, but only for a second. As we walk to her door, I notice she keeps looking around again. Her eyes catch mine and I ask, “Are you looking for someone?”
“No, I’m just cautious.”
She unlocks the door with four different keys to match the deadbolts. After she opens the door, she motions for me to go ahead of her. Much like her car, this place is really clean. One twin-size bed pushed against the far wall and a rack with clothes sets against the opposite wall. Across from the bed is a dresser with an old TV on top. She also has an electric griddle and microwave next to the TV. A small refrigerator sits next to the dresser.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” She relocks the four dead bolts and slides three chain locks in place, and then applies a safety bar across the middle of the door. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Yeah, right. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Mary. What about you?”
“I’m Charlotte.”
I sit on the bed and fiddle with my fingers. “So, you live here?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but the short of it is, I was down on my luck. Like I had nobody. Betty, the owner of this place, needed a maid and offered me a room in trade for me cleaning.”
“Oh, so you get cheap rent or something?”
“No. She doesn’t pay me, but I get the place for free. That’s why I clean the salon. I pick up odd jobs here and there for money. I don’t need much.”
Mary throws her purse on the dresser and plops down next to me.
“What’s your story, Charlotte?”
“My story is long, too. The condensed version is, I found out my… I don’t even know what he is. Boyfriend, maybe? I just found out that his mom is my therapist.”
“Ouch. That one’s gotta burn. Why are you in therapy?”
“Umm, it’s kind of personal,” I snap.
“CliffsNotes version, then.”
“Look, I don’t know you. I appreciate—”
“Whatever. You don’t have to tell me. I’m hungry. Want some ramen?”
She gets off the bed and walks to the dresser. The drawer she pulls out is full of ramen and a couple packs of instant mac-n-cheese.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
She doesn’t say anything else as she puts the dry noodles in a bowl and adds water from the bathroom sink in it. Once it’s in the microwave, she sits on the bed and chews on her fork while waiting.
“My parents both died, and I got involved in a fucked-up relationship.” I’m not sure how much I want to tell her. She’s been really kind to me, so I go on. “Todd was basically a wannabe Dom. I did all sorts of shit with him. He’s fourteen years older than me and was my mom’s oncologist back in Texas.”
“Dang, girl. So you got out of the relationship and started seeing a therapist.”
“Yeah. When I moved here, I reconnected with an old… fling. Turns out my therapist is said fling’s mom.”
We continue talking for about an hour. I explain a little more, and she sympathizes with me. I cry. I laugh. But, most importantly, I listen.
“If this guy, the love of your life. If he is it for you. You can’t let that go. What you went through was not your fault. His mom understands that, and you need to, too. Tell him. Let him know. Once it’s out in the open, I bet you’ll feel much better.”
I rest my hand on her arm, the one with the scar. “How do you know? How am I supposed to believe that once he knows, he won’t be disgusted by me?”
She jerks her arm away and stands.
“I know because what you did is not disgusting. Trust me. I’m not negating the fact that you went through some shit. Some things can’t be forgiven, some things you do result in life-altering changes for other people.” Hands on her hips, she closes her eyes before she speaks again.
“Those are the kinds of things that can’t be forgiven. When your choices affect someone like that, then you hide. Then you run away and never look back because you know you don’t deserve anything more than living in a motel for the rest of your life.” She quickly wipes the tears and shakes her head as she heads to the bathroom. “You need to call him. He’s probably worried.”
“Hey!” I call before she can slam the bathroom door. “Whatever you did, whatever you think is unforgivable? I bet you’re wrong. You’re a good person, and mistakes can be forgiven. Was what happened a mistake?”
“The only mistake was that I survived.” Then she shuts the door. The pipes squeak then the water for the shower turns on. I grab the ancient phone and dial Meara’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Jesus Christ, Charlotte! Where the fuck are you? Everyone’s freaking out over here.”
I feel so guilty for making them worry. “I’m sorry. Please tell everyone I’m okay.” I forget that I now have my family again, and Travis. I’m so used to being alone and not having anyone to care about what I’m doing or where I am that I fail to remember they might get worried.
“Where are you? Travis is worried like crazy. His dad and brother called in favors and have cops looking for you. Seriously, Char, what the hell?” Her concern has quickly turned to irritation.
“I’m at this pay by the day motel.” She starts to talk, but I cut her off. “Please call Travis and tell him I’m okay. I’ll call him tomorrow. I need some time. Please, Meara.”
She lets out an audible huff. “Fine. But he told me what happened, about his mom, and I guarantee you’re making a bigger deal than it is.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit. “But she knows everything. How am I supposed to… never mind. Tell him I’m okay.” I hang up and fall back on Mary’s bed.
I’m such a liar. I want nothing more than to see Travis right now. To have him hold me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. I’m too embarrassed to admit that. I don’t know what his mom has told him. This is such a clusterfuck.
“What’s g
oing on in that brain of yours?” Mary comes out of the bathroom and sits down next to me.
“I’m worried that Travis’ mom told him—”
“Wait. Travis. What’s his last name?”
“Parker.”
“Oh shit, oh shit. Fuck.” Mary jumps out of the bed and quickly throws on a pair of socks and shoes. “Does he have an older brother?” She fumbles with her laces and mutters under her breath, ‘please say no, please say no’.
“Yeah, Brandon. Do you know him?”
“Shit!” She paces, then finally stops and takes three huge breaths. “Okay, okay.”
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“Did you call Travis? Is he on his way?”
“No, I called my cousin. I told her to let him know I was fine. What’s going on?” She’s starting to freak me out.
“Yeah. I’ve gotta go, I can’t be here in case he comes.”
“Who?”
“Brandon. He can’t know where I am. I stayed away. I live in a fucking motel, I can’t—”
A knock on the door stops her frantic rambling. “Chicago PD. I need to ask a couple questions.”
Mary freezes. Her hand stills in her hair and the rapid movement of her chest… stops.
“It’s the cops, you have to open the door,” I tell her from the bed.
“It’s not the cops, it’s Brandon.” Her sentence comes in a rush, and I try to calm her.
“They’re probably looking for me, I’ll answer the door.”
“I swear to Christ, Charlotte, if you don’t open this damn door I will break it down,” Travis yells, and relief rushes through me that he came for me.
“Shit, open it, Mary.” She nods very slowly and starts the process of unlocking the door. Her hand freezes on the knob.
“It’s okay, Mary. Just open it.” It’s strange seeing her act this way. I know I’ve only known her a few hours, but she doesn’t come across as a weak person. She’s visibly shaking and finally turns the knob.
When the door opens, I see Brandon stumble. Travis grabs his arm and looks at Mary with a confused expression.
