I swallowed the lump that was in my throat and kept my mouth shut as Carl’s mind drifted into the past. I knew how Carl was. He had the attention span of a gnat. If I interrupted him now with a bunch of questions, the memories could leave as quickly as they had come.
“It was cold in here. She had you wrapped in a blanket. She was giving you a bottle. She looked at me and smiled. She asked me, ‘Carl, if I have to leave, will you help take care of my little Becca Boo?’ That’s what she called you, her little Becca Boo.”
I put my hand to my chest. My heart felt like it was going to seize. I tried to breath, but my lungs refused to take in any air. I watched Carl’s face as he imagined my mother standing before him. He held a hand in the air. His fingers twitched. There were tears in his eyes.
“I asked her where she was going. She said she didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay here anymore. She said the world was passing her by. She said the cold was freezing her heart.” Carl blinked at me. “What do you think she meant?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sniffing back tears. I knew what she meant, but I wouldn’t tell Carl. I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I felt the same way.
I said, “My dad never told me why she left, and he never told me that she called me Becca Boo.”
“He wanted you to forget her,” Carl said. “Me and him talked about it after she left. I was in here so much I guess we became friends. I was somebody he could talk to. Mostly I just listened.”
“Did he say why she left?” I asked.
Carl’s thin shoulders went up and down and he blew out a long breath. “Your mom had issues with that postpartum depression stuff. He said she was never the same after you were born. He just said she had to move on because this place was driving her mad.”
“Wow,” I said. I took in a quick breath that made me shudder.
“Maybe you should have run off with that prince fella,” Carl said out of the blue. He picked up his beer and raised it to his lips.
“Why would you say that?” I asked.
Carl reached across the bar to take my hand. He gave it a squeeze.
“Because you remind me of your mother. And like she said, there is a big old world out there. Don’t let it pass you by.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Nick
I was drifting in and out of sleep when I heard a knock at the hotel room door. I forced my eyes to open enough to glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly midnight. I threw back the covers and swung my feet to the floor and turned on the lamp.
I sat rubbing my eyes for a moment. My head was still foggy from the vodka. My stomach growled like a rabid dog.
A knock came again and I yelled for whoever it was to hold on.
I pushed myself off the bed and staggered to the door. I hoped it wasn’t Nigel, coming to my room for round two of “let’s kick Nickie when he’s down.”
I wasn’t so drunk that I wouldn’t be able to punch the old sot in the nose if I found him standing on the other side of the door.
Another knock came just as my hand reached for the knob.
I jerked open the door and yelled, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Rebecca
The door jerked open and there stood Nick in his boxer shorts with a look of fury on his face.
He yelled, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
The air filled with the stench of vodka and rage.
Then he realized it was me standing there with my hand balled into a knuckled fist.
His expression went blank. His lower lip drooped open. He braced his palms on the doorframe and swayed a little as he frowned at me.
“Hi,” I said, offering a smile. “It’s just me.”
He stared at me for a moment. Clearly, he was drunk and probably wondering if he was hallucinating.
I said, “Nick, it’s really me. Can I come in?”
He licked his lips and moved aside to let me into the room. As he closed the door, I heard his stomach rumble. He belched loudly and filled the air with the smell of vomit. His eyes grew wide and he slapped a hand over his mouth. I’d seen that look hundreds of times over the years. It didn’t bother me in the least. I just calmly waved a hand at him.
“Go, puke. I’ll be here when you’re done,” I said. “And brush your teeth!”
He gave me a nod and ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.
I heard him hurling as I took off my coat and tossed it on a chair.
I sat on the foot of the bed and kicked off my shoes.
Great, Rebecca, I thought as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and took off my bra.
You just made Prince Charming throw up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Nick
I hugged the toilet and proceeded to puke my guts out. I was a practiced drinker, but I had downed nearly an entire bottle of vodka and hadn’t eaten since last night. It had been inevitable that it would come back up at some point. I just wished it hadn’t waited until Rebecca showed up at my door.
Rebecca… Oh shit…what the hell was she doing here?