Chapter 35: : Chapter 35

Day Three, 7:56 a.m.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” B. J. says. “It’s all my fault.”

“It isn’t your fault, really,” I say, sighing. “It’s mine. I set up the situation, so I can’t be pissed at you when I have to deal with the fallout.” I’m in my hotel room, on the phone with B. J., and I just finished recounting the night’s activities.

“Well, look on the bright side,” he says. “At least now you don’t have to worry about her finding out. She already knows.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel much better,” I say sarcastically, looking around the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Courtney and I are supposed to get back on the road soon. Although she hasn’t called me since this morning’s four a.m. phone call, so who knows.

“I just mean,” B. J. persists, “that maybe now you can make things right.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting down on the bed. To make matters worse, I have developed a horrible headache, and was forced to buy a travel pack of aspirin at the front desk, which cost me five bucks.

“I mean you have nothing to lose now,” B. J. says. “You can try to get her back without worrying about her dad and all that shit. You guys can really deal with what’s going on, instead of some fucked-up fake shit.”

“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “Maybe. But she was pretty rip-shit last night.” My call waiting beeps. “That’s her,” I say.

“Good luck,” B. J. says. I click over.

“Are you going to tell me where you are now?” I ask. I open the packet of aspirin and step into the bathroom to fill a glass of water. I feel hung over, even though I’m not.

“Are you leaving to come and get me immediately?” she asks, all bossy like.

“Yes, Courtney, I’m leaving immediately,” I tell her, sighing. It’s hard to balance a glass of water, the aspirin, and my phone in this tiny hotel bathroom. “Now can you tell me where you are?”

“Let me hear you actually leaving,” she demands. “I’m not telling you where I am until you actually leave.”

“How the hell are you supposed to know that I’m actually leaving?” I ask. I drop one of the aspirin into the sink. “Shit,” I swear, grabbing it before it makes it down the drain.

“What’s going on?” Courtney asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “Now will you tell me where you are?” I look at the aspirin and wonder how many germs are on it and if I’ll die just from putting it in my mouth. I wonder what’s worse—having a headache or eating this bad aspirin.

“I want to hear you leaving,” she says.

“Again, how can you hear me leaving?” I definitely need this aspirin if she’s going to be acting like this all day.

“I want to hear the door close behind you.”

I slam the bathroom door shut. “There,” I say. “Now tell me.”

“How do I know that wasn’t just the bathroom door?” she asks suspiciously.

“You don’t,” I say. “But you were the one who came up with the criteria of how to know I was actually leaving, so don’t get mad if your method isn’t foolproof.” I turn on the water and rinse my aspirin off, figuring an aspirin that’s been rinsed off is better than an aspirin that hasn’t. Besides, if it weren’t for Courtney, I probably wouldn’t even have thought twice about the germs. She has this uncanny need for germfree environments and I think it’s rubbed off on me.

“I can hear you running water!” Courtney says. “Unbelievable! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, since you have proved yourself to be totally untrustworthy.”

“Hey, do you know anything about germs in sinks?” I look at the aspirin questioningly. I really, really want that aspirin.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I dropped some aspirin in the sink and I want to know if it’s okay to take it.”

“Why can’t you just throw it out and take another?” she asks, exasperated.

“Because I bought one of those travel packs that only has two pills in it,” I say, still looking at the offending aspirin. Whatever. I pop it in my mouth with a copious amount of water.

“Just buy another travel pack,” she says. “I wouldn’t take it. It probably has sperm on it.”

“Why would it have SPERM on it?” I ask, horrified. I open my mouth and look in the mirror, but it’s too late. I’ve already swallowed it.

“Because I saw an exposé once on 20/20 about hotel rooms, and they’re all covered in sperm,” she says.

“Fine,” I lie. “I’ll buy another travel pack. Now I really am leaving, so tell me where you are.”

“I’m at the Bellevue Motel,” she says. “It’s—”

“I know where it is,” I say, sighing. We were at the same fucking motel. This whole time, we were in the same building. “I’ll meet you outside in two minutes.” I slide my cell phone shut and look at myself in the mirror, wondering what’s more likely—me, dying from hotel bathroom germs, or Courtney ever forgiving me.