Say You'll Remember Me(37)

Mom used to be really fun. The life of the party. The last one on the dance floor at the wedding, the first one to get up when the live band started playing in a restaurant.

Now these things about her were lost. All we got now were occasional sparks when neurons fired. And it broke my heart every time I saw it and every time I didn’t.

Jeneva took Mom upstairs and put her to sleep, and Xavier and I went back to my apartment.

I stared at my deflated bed while he closed the door behind us.

He turned me toward him and put my face in his hands. “Let’s look at you,” he said, gently, brushing my hair back. He took off my bloody toilet paper and studied the hole in my ear. “It’s superficial,” he said, running a knuckle along my jaw. “It didn’t tear all the way through, it’ll be healed in a few days.”

He leaned down and kissed me softly. “You okay?”

“Not really.” I sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That.” I nodded to the house.

He rubbed my arms.

“I feel so bad about Tristan,” I said.

“He’ll calm down. Apologize again tomorrow.”

Pooter appeared and started scaling Xavier’s pant leg. He pulled her off and held her to his chest without ever taking his eyes from my face. She went into instant purring.

I totally knew why Mom had calmed down with him. The gentle, tender steadiness about him. It felt like he was unchangeable. Like this is who he had always been, like he came out of the womb this way, a static flat line, and he would stay that way until the day he died. This kind of person was instantly recognizable, even to someone who recognized nothing.

I couldn’t picture this man ever yelling. He was contained and self-regulated.

And I was the kind of impulsive asshole who blamed her innocent brother without even bothering to ask the question first.

I bet Xavier would have asked the question.

If he had, and the person had done the bad thing they were suspected of doing, he wouldn’t throw a pillow at them. He’d say something like, “That is very disappointing.” And it would somehow be worse than if he screamed and cursed at them.

He made me want to be a better human. As it was, I didn’t feel like I even deserved the way he was looking at me.

“Where are we going to sleep?” I said, turning from his gaze.

“Let’s go to my hotel.”

I let out a sigh.

We could sleep in the empty upstairs bedroom. It would be closer. But the hotel would be private. Probably quieter too. It was already almost 1:00 a.m. The boys were up and running around by 8:00. We wouldn’t get any sleep.

“Okay. Let me grab some stuff.”

Xavier offered to drive since I was still shaking.

There was a drug deal going down in the hotel parking lot when we pulled up. They weren’t even trying to hide it.

Xavier looked at the building from the driver’s seat. “I don’t think the pictures on the website were current.”

“What about the pictures on the reviews?”

“I didn’t check the reviews. I just took whatever was cheapest on the discount travel site.”

I pulled out my phone and googled it.

“Oh my God. This place has one and a half stars.” I turned the screen to him. “We’re gonna get scabies here.”

He frowned. “Let me see if I can get my money back. Come with me, I’m not leaving you in the car.”

I followed him in.

I was about a hundred percent sure the Dart would be missing when we came out.

The burly balding guy at the counter wouldn’t give him his money back.

We stepped away from the desk to converse.

“What do you want to do?” I whispered.

“We could get a different hotel,” he said.

“If we do, I’m paying for it.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you paying for it. This was my idea to come here, you shouldn’t have to pay for anything.”

“So you pay on two places in one night? I reject that on principle.”

He dragged a hand down his mouth. “We could get another air mattress.”

“It’s after one a.m. There’s not going to be anywhere open.”

I let out a sigh. I was exhausted now. The tired had been accelerated by the drama. And it was 3:00 a.m. his time—he looked beat too. He’d worked and flown to California today—yesterday.

“Why don’t we just get the key and see what the room looks like,” I said. “You paid for it, might as well. Maybe it’s not that bad?”

He contemplated the idea for a moment. Then I think exhaustion won out. “Okay.”

We asked for a room on the bottom floor so we could park the car right next to the window and hopefully hear if someone messed with it.

He unlocked the room and the door swung in with a creak.

It had cheap 1980s-looking furniture, a generic geometric bedspread in browns and reds, a lamp with no shade, and a Bible on the nightstand. It smelled faintly of cigarettes.

“You check for bedbugs and I’ll check for cameras,” I said.

We shut the door behind us, put on the bolt lock and chain, and put our bags in the bathtub while we divided and conquered.

No hidden cameras and no bedbugs.