Night’s Stay
By Dylan Strzempko
Oakmont Regional High School // Grade 12
As I pulled into the parking space, the tires let out a short piercing squeak. Fran snorted awake.
“Huh? Why’re we stopping here?” she asked, puzzled.
“I’m getting us a room for the night. I’m tired and I see you are too.” She propped herself up on her arms and raised the seat back up. She squinted at the flickering pink sign: The Charlotte Inn.
“Here? This cruddy motel? Can’t we find some place nicer?”
“How do you know it’s so bad? Besides, unless you want to drive, it’s the only place we’ve got.” She stared at me for a second and sighed.
“Okay. But if I wake up to some hairy rodent next to me, it better be you.” After poofing her curly blonde hair in the side mirror, she grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. I hopped out and walked through the cracked glass door into the main lobby, Fran following behind with her arms crossed. At the front desk, an old man with thin, tinted glasses and a wrinkled smirk sat slouched in his chair.
“How can ah help you two youngsters tonight?” The words crept out of his throat like molasses.
“Do you have any rooms available?” I asked politely.
“Take yer pick. Ah ain’t had guests for a couple uh days. Everyone’s headed West huh that Santa Fe Hot Rod show. That where you two’re headed?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a lot running on that Ford Popular out there. It sure took a lot of work.” I felt a sharp jab to my ribs. Fran raised her eyebrows at me. “Er, we both put a lot of elbow grease into it. We’re really hoping for a win.” I handed him the money for a night’s stay. He formed a courteous smile and glanced out the glass doors.
Fran raised her
eyebrows at me.
“Er, we both put a
lot of elbow grease
into it. We’re really
hoping for a win.”
I handed him
the money for a
night’s stay. He
formed a courteous
smile and glanced
out the glass doors.
“It’s a fine looking’ machine. Ah wish yuh the best uh luck.” He pulled himself up from the chair and handed me a key. “Room’s right in fronna where yuh parked. Number three.”
“Thanks.” I began to turn to the door when Fran struck up a conversation with the man.
“The Charlotte Inn, huh? Cute name. Where’d it come from?”
“It’s my name,” he replied. “Last name huh be exact. Eli Charlotte in full. I don’t think ah caught yer two names yet, if yuh don’t mind me asking’.”
“Jack DeLaney,” I said, shaking his oily hand. I turned to Fran.
“Denise. It’s a pleasure.” She shook his hand and we stepped out into the warm night again.
I unlocked the room, flopped on the bed, and flicked on the TV. Fran stood in the doorway, arms still crossed.
“TV? I thought you needed sleep.”
“I need to check the news. I don’t think they’re looking for us down here yet.”
“What do you mean us? I didn’t do anything.”
I slid over in the bed and patted a spot for her to sit. “Hey, you came with me. They probably think I kidnapped you.” I started to laugh but coughed on the dusty air. “It’s funny, they don’t know a thing about us.”
“I’m not sure I know anything about us either. I thought we were heading South to lay low, not enter a bunch of contests and get attention. You told me you were getting a simple job down here.” She wandered around the room, pretending to be interested in the dingy wallpaper and tacky lampshades. I turned down the TV volume.
“I am! But we might as well try to win some money from the show while we’re down here.” She rubbed some dust from the TV between her fingers and didn’t respond. “Relax. We’ll sell the Ford for something else once I find work, but we need the extra money.”
“I don’t know what it is about you, Carson. I thought I could help you get back on your feet and out of trouble. I had no idea I would get chased halfway across the country just for you to make up your own plans, and then take me to some dump in the middle of nowhere! Tell me, why should I even stay the night here? Why can’t you handle this on your own?”
I turned off the TV. She was no longer wandering, just staring at me with her hands on her hips. I couldn’t argue with her. She hadn’t done anything; I was relying on her to get my life back on track. She was the only reason I even cared enough to clean up my act.
“I don’t know.” I swallowed to fight the dry air in my throat. “But if it wasn’t for you, I couldn’t have gotten this far. You know how to live an honest life, I don’t. You turned that old car into a freaking work of art. Heck, I can barely drive.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes and kept her hand on her forehead. Head tilted down towards the filthy carpet, her eyes darted back and forth, like the thoughts arc¬ing through her mind. “And apparently I have horrible taste in hotels,” I added. She released a pitied laugh, and looked up at me with a smile of disbelief.
“Well, I guess this place is cleaner than the old gas station.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked out at the Popular and laughed again. She sat for a few minutes, captivated by the flickering pink light reflecting on the subtle curves of the car’s fenders. It was Fran’s car, inside and out. She turned to me with hopeful eyes and declared, “You know what, Carson? We’re gonna win this thing.”