I allowed myself one more minute of feeling sorry for myself, and then I snapped up out of bed. I had to get rolling. There was nothing for me in Cheyenne except a place to hide.
I showered off the smoke from last night; I could smell it rising in the steam around me. Then I threw away the clothes I had worn. I could not imagine packing them next to my other clothes. The smoke would infect everything. I almost threw up, thinking about the smoke and Pete and Arnold, the crack of heads together, the fall of the ax, the blood on the snow. I felt a clenching deep inside me. If that woman had not looked through the window just then, those two could have been thrashing around on top of me soon enough. Heavy and mean. Father and son taking turns. It was just plain wrong how pushy they had been at the end there. It was all rushing through my brain.
I closed the door behind me and walked toward the lobby to drop off the key, my shoes crunching on the fresh snow left behind from last night’s storm. I was the only one up at the motel. I could see bloodstains mixed in with the snow in front of the bar. I pushed the key through a slot in the front door of the lobby. There was a tiny squeak and then it snapped shut.
I need to be quieter and calmer, I thought. For years I was silent and hidden away on that farm, tending to Thomas’s needs, and now I could not shut myself up. There I was, getting into trouble with strangers, yelling in the middle of the night. What was I doing? I needed to be careful. There might be people looking for me. I began to feel uncomfortable and thick with guilt, even though I did not believe I had done anything wrong. I was worried I was still drunk, but I got in the truck anyway. I cursed myself, and then I started the engine.
Route 80 was still pretty messed up from the weather. Great hills of snow were pushed to the sides like silent guards standing watch. I prayed for safe passage. The land started to change as I drove farther west. It was raining and the snow had melted some and I could see that the land was curvier, more luscious. Everything in my hometown was flat and remained the same, except for the corn, growing, growing, and then gone again. I had never considered the earth could be any other way. Why would I need to think about that? I was never leaving.
The farthest I had ever been away was during my honeymoon, six years past already. We went to a resort town on a lake in Minnesota because that is where my parents went on their honeymoon, and they were paying the bills. They sat us down at the kitchen table the night of our engagement barbecue in the backyard. My dad handed the envelope with the tickets to my mother, who slid them across the kitchen table to us. “We had some magical nights there,” she said drily. “It’s good for swimming,” said my dad. He put his hand on my mother’s shoulder, and she turned her eyes at it and stared dully, until he pulled it back again.
If it had been left up to me and Thomas we probably would have stayed home and snuggled up in bed for a week straight, watching TV, renting movies, me making popcorn and grilled cheese sandwiches. Easy stuff we could eat in bed. I was not even sure we needed a wedding. That seemed like extra to me. But you do not look a gift horse in the mouth, Thomas whispered in my ear later, after they handed us the envelope. And it would be our only chance to see a little of the world. Because Thomas had only ever promised to show me his love.
The resort itself was like a pioneer village. Everyone had their own little log cabin, all of them circling a lake like we were settlers keeping each other company in the wilderness. We had the honeymoon suite so there were fuzzy slippers and bathrobes waiting for us and chocolate roses and a bottle of champagne in the kitchen.
“Ooh la la,” said Thomas, and he popped a rose in his mouth. He did a little dance over to me and said, “Come here and I’ll give you a chocolate kiss.” We put our arms around each other and I let him put his tongue deep into my mouth. It tasted like chocolate but also the peanuts we had been snacking on all day during the drive. I liked the saltiness but it was not what I was expecting. I guess he could tell. He pulled back from me. I could see how wounded he was. I decided not to say no to him for the rest of the seven days and six nights we were there.