Hotel Ruby by Suzanne Young
For my grandfather
Walter “Shadow” Parzych
And, as always, in loving memory of my grandmother Josephine Parzych
STAY TONIGHT. STAY FOREVER.
Author’s note: Many older hotels did not have a 13th floor. And HOTEL RUBY doesn't have a 13th chapter, further adding to the mystery behind Audrey's stay at Hotel Ruby...
Chapter 1
The treetops curve above the road like an archway, blotting out the moon and stars. We’ve been driving through these woods for close to an hour, and our car headlights shine only a short distance in the thick fog. I glance into the backseat to check my older brother’s current state of annoyance, but Daniel hasn’t spoken to me since the rest stop near Vegas. He stiffens, aggressively ignoring me when he turns to face the dark outside the window.
“If we stay on this road,” my father says, “I think there’s a shortcut through the mountains. I remember taking it one time with your mother.”
The air in the car hardens to cement and I still, the mention of my mother too taboo to slip into conversation. I hear Daniel shift in the backseat, and the tension tightens around me, a vise clamped on my heart. Just when I think I might choke on the grief, my father reaches to flip on the stereo, startling us from the quiet.
I stare out the windshield, my eyes stinging. I don’t dare blink hard enough to let a tear fall. Normally, I’d turn to Daniel, but we’ve run out of comforting things to say. Now the words feel false, hollow. So neither of us bothers to speak them anymore.
My brother knows this trip isn’t entirely my fault. I’ve made mistakes since our mother died, but I’m not the only one. Daniel’s coping mechanism is to deflect his grief, his resentment; and sometimes he hurls them at me. But our father, well, he’s just lost altogether.
Now Dad is sending us to live with our grandmother, uprooting us from Arizona to Elko, some small town in northern Nevada. He claims it will be a “fresh start,” but really, he’s the one who plans to start fresh, leaving us behind with a DNA-matched stranger.
Truth is, Dad stopped seeing us. He looks through us like he can’t bear our resemblance to our mother. Like we’re invisible. Daniel and I have lost both of our parents, even though one is sitting next to me now.
“Can I change the station?” I ask. My voice is thick, and I realize I haven’t spoken out loud since we left Vegas. How’s that possible?
My dad glances over, seeming just as startled by my voice, and gives a quick nod. Daniel shifts in the backseat as I start pressing and then re-pressing the scan button, searching for a clear station. My iPod died nearly a hundred miles ago, and I haven’t had a chance to charge it. I’m at the mercy of the DJ gods, and they have not been favorable toward me.
The radio search is met with static, save one channel that’s playing old jazz. I take a spin through the stations again.
“Hey, Aud,” Daniel calls. My heart skips a beat, and I look back at him. He’s our mother’s reflection—platinum hair, blue eyes. It still startles me. “Can I have your Snickers bar?” he asks.
I choke on a laugh, covering my smile because this is Daniel’s way of apologizing. I shouldn’t give him the candy, not after he told me to shut up outside the dingy rest stop bathrooms. I’d made the mistake of mentioning our mother. I’m not sure why I did it, especially since I know Daniel hates when I do. I guess I just miss hearing the word “Mom” without the words “I’m so sorry” connected to it.
Once in the car, Daniel muttered from the backseat about my selfishness: “Ask Ryan,” he said, thus beginning our silent war. But Daniel’s my brother and he’s the only person left in the world who cares about me. That deserves a candy bar. I grab the backpack at my feet and dig through the front pocket until I touch the softened chocolate. I toss it to him, and he nods his thanks, our temporary truce enacted.
The weight of tension has lifted, and I expect my father to be lightened by it. But his face is determined; he’s focusing on his plan so the ache won’t set in. He wasn’t always like this. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment he changed, but it was a swift progression. We were all too distracted to notice. I was busy self-medicating with all manner of troublesome behaviors; Daniel was retreating into avoidance and denial. We had no one to hold us together.
And after my father walked in on a spectacularly raucous party I was throwing, he seemed to calm, to steady himself when really he should have freaked out. Grounded me for twenty years. Instead he came up with a plan.