Grease Stains, Kismet, and Maternal Wisdom, Page 4

  ***

  “Ahhhh….chew!”

  Bright yellow light exploded across the room to my nostrils. I woke up sneezing. Motherfucker.

  It was morning, it was around 8:30 a.m., and we were in room 700 at the Radisson in Cambridge, Massachusetts and Samantha was sleeping next to me in my blue shirt that was now her blue shirt. I climbed out of bed and went to the window.

  Wispy white clouds hung in the sky. The city was hazy. But it was bright out and it was Tuesday and we’d been together nearly a full day. I looked over my shoulder and Samantha was small and sleepy. I crept to the bathroom.

  I made dirty hot water in the coffee maker and I smoked a cigarette and took another shower. Then I came out and sat in a chair across the room from Samantha and I drank my dirty tea and smoked another cigarette and watched her sleep. So happy. And I was still sneezing. Motherfucker.

  I climbed back into bed next to her. I put my face in the pillow. She snored gently. I smiled into the pillow. She rolled over.

  “Good morning, peaches,” I said, thinking, Did I just say that? I think I did.

  “Good morning, my apple blossom.”

  “Your mother left a message on my phone,” I whispered.

  “Ohhh…” Samantha drowned herself in the blankets. “I’m so sleepy.”

  “You must be. I made some nasty hot water for tea.”

  “Oh…Okay. I’m getting up.”

  Samantha got up and shuffled around. I watched her, grinning. She was wearing my blue shirt and it was long, covering up those black panties with the red gun on the crotch that I so desperately wanted to steal. But they looked too good on her.

  I must see them again someday, I thought. Perhaps then I will destroy them in one violent snatch and tear. And then I’ll devour them after dunking them in honey.

  I played her mother’s message for her.

  “I’m going to call her,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  I got up and opened the blinds. The room flooded with yellow. I sneezed more.

  “What a view,” I said.

  “Of what? Trader Joe’s?”

  So sarcastic. I love it.

  “Fuck you,” I said. “It is a nice view. You can see the city from here.”

  As she called her mother, I snapped a couple of pictures out the window. I listened to her sweet little lies.

  “Hi, Mom. Yeah, we’re still at Mark’s place…We’ll be back shortly…”

  She got off the phone and yawned. I snapped another picture, this time of her feet. We got our shit together and she called down to the front desk to check out.

  “Tell them Eagle One is set for takeoff,” I said.

  “Eagle One is set for takeoff,” she said into the phone. There was a pause and then, “Oh, I mean, this is room 700 and we’re leaving now…Is that better?”

  We snagged a couple of matchbooks and scanned the room a last time before leaving. Then we left. But I’d taken pictures. I had the proof. We had really been there.

  We drove out of Cambridge. It was sunny and hazy and warm and I was still wearing my fuzzy black fleece and my baseball hat and we listened to a live Martin Sexton CD. The CD opened with applause. I said, “It’s always good to wake up to applause.”

  Samantha laughed. I called Mark again. It was too early to get lost.

  “Mark?”

  “What?”

  He sounded sleepy too.

  “How do I get to Hudson from Cambridge?”

  He told me and I thanked him. Then he asked, “So, did you fuck her?”

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  “Does that mean that you did or that you didn’t?”

  “Thanks, Mark. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

  We made it back to Hudson without incident. I smoked, she smoked, we held hands in the truck. We were slow, maybe a little sad. But I was coming back later in the week. There was no way that I wasn’t. We stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts in Hudson. Samantha made fun of it.

  “This place sucks.”

  “No, you suck.”

  We bought donuts, water, coffee and chocolate milk. We drove back to Ledgewood. I was sweating and my nose was filled with snot. We went up the cement steps and onto the porch. Samantha’s mother answered the door in a slinky robe, already trying to entice me.

  “Hello,” Samantha said, and when she turned her head, her mother winked at me, slyly. I blushed. We moved inside.

  “How was your night?” her mother asked.

  “It was nice,” Samantha said. “Mark lives in a mansion.”

  Her mother nodded, wide eyed and impressed. She stole another moment to wink at me and pat me on the behind. I was bright red by now.

  We moved back to the porch and ate our snacks. I drank my chocolate milk slowly, savoring the taste. Samantha’s mother sipped at the coffee. Samantha shoved two whole donuts into her mouth and tried to talk. It was disturbing.

  “Mmmuh wahhh muuu, ha ha ha!”

  She laughed at her own joke. No one else got it.

  Her mother got up and went back inside. She had to get dressed. Samantha had to shower. She never took advantage of the shower at the hotel. I had to leave.

  I followed her back in, hooking my fingers in the pockets of her jeans. I wanted to pull them off. Samantha’s mother appeared again, still in robe. She was procrastinating getting dressed. She was such a tease.

  “Thank you for letting me steal your daughter,” I said.

  “You can have her,” she said.

  Samantha feigned alarm.

  “Hey!”

  And while Samantha bugged out, her mother mouthed these words to me:

  You can have me too, you dirty fucker.