Mostly spoiler-free. Definitely unedited. Changes possible.
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“How should we pass the time? Since I'm a little furious and all?”
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Gomery cleared his throat. “I’m going to fix this. Being wrong is my least favorite
thing in the world, and when my wrongness hurts others? I’ll fix this. My calculation was... Well. A guesstimate, I guess?”
“Not one of my favorite words. Gotta say. 'Guesstimate.'" My sigh was overly dramatic.
“I'll fix it."
“I believe you will. But I’m probably still going to be a little furious at you and that cousin of yours after this is all, like, over. Rain check on being a little furious at you?”
“Rain check received.” The motel employee fell silent. “Not one of my favorite words. Gotta say. 'Guesstimate.'" My sigh was overly dramatic.
“I'll fix it."
“I believe you will. But I’m probably still going to be a little furious at you and that cousin of yours after this is all, like, over. Rain check on being a little furious at you?”
“How should we pass the time? Since I'm a little furious and all?”
“Do
you have any stories about me? Or Monty?”
I had a
thousand. Stories of watching them for two decades. Stories of how exciting it
was to stomp over and make a complaint about some minor infraction the motel had committed. Stories
of how the cousins joked with me and were perfectly nice even as I scowled in my
corsages and snoods and wagged my finger. Stories of watching them swim and work
in the lobby. Stories of looking at their bedrooms and their curtains and
wondering if they were reading or watching television or playing the banjo. A
thousand stories I made up in my head. “Um. Not really.”
My old foe and new friend spoke. "Remember when we were 16 or so? I might have been 17. And you
came over to complain that the neon light from the Motel Fairwil sign was keeping the hotel’s
guests awake?”
“Sort of?” I shrugged.
“Do you
remember my mom and Aunt Billie were in the diner? I think Monty was sweeping the deck. It was just us, in the motel lobby? You stood by the door and refused
to take a seat. You didn’t want anything to drink. I couldn’t get you anything
at all. You wanted to say what you had to say and get the hell out.”
That was likely. I clung to that motel door like kids hung onto the colorful foam noodles in the motel pool. “So. What about
it?”
“Do you
remember your reasoning? Why we should dim our sign after a certain hour?” he asked.
“It escapes
me. Beyond The Wilfair's guests saying the neon was too bright?”
“You wanted
to make the point that no one is awake and reading signs late at night. You
said, and I quote, ‘we sleep after dark.’”
“That
sounds like something I might say.” With lots of finger-wagging to back it up.
I was a champion finger-wagger. My voice could flood with finger-wagging even if no fingers were actually being wagged.
Gomery
continued. “And I knew your ‘we’ meant all people in general. We sleep after
dark. But, for a moment, I pretended there were just two people inside that
‘we.’”
My body
went hot against the cold tile.
“Wait. I
just lied,” he said.
“You didn’t
think that?”
“Oh, I did.
But it wasn’t only for a moment. It might have been a few days. Because once
you get to thinking about sleeping and the dark and an interesting ‘we’ it can
be hard to turn that thought off.”
“Huh. Um.”
“Wait. I
just lied again.”
“You didn’t
think about it for a few days?”
“No. I
thought about it for a few nights.”
I went hot
all over.
“But the
funny thing is it turns out the two people inside that particular ‘we’ actually don’t
sleep after dark. At least when they’re together.”
“Yeah. Just.
Tonight, like, has been weird.”
“Ms. Finley? Truer words."
Several moments passed. “Gomery? I'm still a little mad at you. But the larger problem is I'm a little everything at you, too.”
Several moments passed. “Gomery? I'm still a little mad at you. But the larger problem is I'm a little everything at you, too.”
