34
By ten o’clock, we are climbing high up into the Sierra Nevada mountains, getting stuck behind motor homes and pickup trucks hauling huge motorboats. Ben’s been driving for six hours straight. The car needs gas again, and we need to figure out a place to stay, but I want to push forward, to get there.
“We probably should stop sooner rather than later,” Ben says.
“But we’re not there yet.”
“Truckee is right outside of Lake Tahoe. It’s summer. Places will be full. We’re better off in Reno. Also, if we stay at a casino hotel, it’s gonna be cheaper.”
“Oh, right.” Hotels. Last night I didn’t have to think about that.
Downtown Reno is garish. Once we pass through the center, with all the big casinos, their marquees advertising bands that were huge in Tricia’s day, it turns depressing: dilapidated motels advertising nickel slots and $3.99 steak breakfasts.
We choose one of the crummy motels. “How much for the room?” Ben asks.
The rheumy-eyed guy behind the counter reminds me of Mr. Purdue. “Sixty dollars. Checkout’s at eleven.”
“I’ll give you eighty bucks for two rooms and we’ll be out by nine.” I plunk down the twenties on the counter. The guy looks at my chest. Ben frowns. The guy crumples the money in his spidery hands, slides over two keys.
Ben pulls out his wallet and starts to hand me some cash, but I wave it away. “It’s on me.”
We walk back to the Jetta in silence, its engine still ticking from the long drive today. It has a bigger one tomorrow. I grab my bag and point toward my room at the opposite end of the complex from his. “I’ll meet you back at the car at nine.”
“Tomorrow’s Monday,” Ben points out. “Maybe earlier’s better. In case he goes to work. You don’t want to lose the day.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve lost all track of time. We’ve already been gone two days. “Eight?” I say.
“Seven. Truckee’s still a half hour away”
“Okay. Seven.”
We stand there, looking at each other. Behind us a pickup truck screeches into the parking lot. “Good night, Cody,” Ben says.
“Good night.”
Once in the room, I contemplate a bath, but when I see the dingy tub and the ring of dead skin, I shower instead, soaking under the weak stream. I get out, dry myself on napkin towels, and look around the room.
Death is the ultimate rite of passage, and it can be a most sacred ritual. Sometimes, in order to make it personal, you must make it anonymous. This was the advice I found in Meg’s decrypted files. Did Bradford himself write that? It sounds like something he might say. I look around the room. This is exactly the kind of place where Meg did it.
I imagine it all, locking the door, putting on the DO NOT DISTURB sign, leaving the note and tip for the maid. Going into the bathroom to mix the chemistry, fan on so as not to alert other motel guests with the fumes.
I sit down on the bed. I picture Meg, waiting for the poison to take effect. Did she lie down right away, or wait for the tingling to start? Did she throw up? Was she scared? Relieved? Was there a moment when she knew she’d passed the point of no return?
I lie down on the scratchy bedspread and imagine Meg’s last minutes. The burning, the tingling, the numbness. I hear Bradford’s voice whispering encouragement. We are born alone, we die alone. I start to see black spots; I start to feel it happening. Really happening.
Except that I don’t want it to! I shoot upright in the bed. I put my hand over my heart, which is beating so hard, as if protesting my thoughts. It is not happening, I tell myself. You did not take poison. You would not take poison.
With trembling hands, I grab my phone. Ben picks up right away. “Are you okay?” he asks.
As soon as he asks it, I am. If not okay, then better. The panic subsides. I’m not Meg catching that final bus, an anonymous voice whispering in my ear. I’m alive. And I’m not alone.
“Are you okay?” he repeats. And it’s a real voice. Solid. If I needed him to be right here with me, he would be.
“I’m okay,” I say.
Ben’s quiet on the line, and I just stay there, listening to the sound of him, comforted by his presence, by the sound of his breathing. We stay like that for a while, until I’m calm enough to go to sleep.