Lauren was chewing her lip. “I know you don’t want to miss work or class, but we might have to stop,” she said finally.
When the car skidded for the second time in as many miles, I agreed, but first we had to find a place with available rooms. It was almost two in the morning by the time we stopped at a shitty motel that didn’t have NO VACANCY gleaming through the snow. I didn’t like the look of the place, but I didn’t see we had a choice.
“Better than frozen death?” I asked Lauren, pulling into the lot.
“Yay, we get dismembered, instead.” But that was her teasing tone, not her terrified one.
In the office, an elderly woman shuffled to the desk in a blue housecoat, her mouth puckered into permanent disapproval. “You girls are lucky, this is my last room. Lots of people are trying to get out of the weather tonight.”
Well, duh. It’s a blizzard out there.
I was pretty sure this shithole didn’t ordinarily cost fifty-nine bucks a night, but I had no leverage to haggle, and another car was pulling into the parking lot. “We’ll take it.”
Between Lauren and me, we scraped up enough to cover the cost, and the proprietor proved what kind of place it was when she didn’t ask for a credit card. She gave us a metal key and told us we had room 116, just down from the office. Shivering, I got my backpack out of the car, but left the Tupperware containers. Snow stung my cheeks as I crunched over the unshoveled walk to our room. Inside, it was as horrible as I’d feared with a musty smell and decor that would’ve been dated back in the ’60s.
Lauren shuddered. “So basically, we need to be dry-cleaned when we get home.”
The old woman hadn’t mentioned that there was only one bed, but it didn’t matter. Since the radiator banged and groaned while providing minimal heat, we’d be huddling together for warmth, anyway. I put on slipper socks, a sweatshirt, sweatpants and my winter hat before turning back the sheets. They were thin and yellowed from frequent washing, but nothing moved. Hopefully, that was a good sign, and I was cold enough to risk it.
“I have never wanted you more,” Lauren said, but she put on about as many clothes, and then we got into bed.
It took me forever to fall asleep, despite the ache in my shoulders and calves from a long day of driving. Toward the end, we hadn’t come as far as we needed to, so we still had a good five hours to go, provided the roads were clear enough for us to move on. They’d better be since we didn’t have enough cash for another night on the road. Plus, I couldn’t afford to miss more work or class. Shit, it was stressing me out just thinking about it.
“Oh, my God, go to sleep already,” Lauren mumbled, thumping me on the head when I rolled over for the fourth time.
Weirdly, I did.
In the morning, I turned on the crappy, antiquated TV to check the weather report. From a glance out the window, I could see that it had stopped snowing, but I needed to know which roads had been plowed in the night. I punched the air when I heard that I-80 looked pretty clear. After poking Lauren awake, I packed my stuff and carried it to the car.
My breath whooshed out of me. The right back window was broken and all of the leftovers my mom had sent were gone. Speechless, I walked around the car looking for other damage. Shit, my phone. Did I take it in with us last night?
I scrambled through my backpack, and it was definitely gone. Assholes. You stole Thanksgiving and my phone. Happy holidays. I couldn’t think of a single silver lining in this crap-fest, but I strangled my urge to kick things and cuss. Better to focus on damage control.
Lauren was brushing her teeth when I ran in. “Need to borrow your cell.”
“Why?”
Once I filled her in, she did all the cursing for me. But she turned her phone over with no questions, and I went about changing passwords, canceling accounts and notifying my cell carrier that I was no longer in possession of the phone.
The rep sounded pretty bored as he relayed my options. “So sorry for your trouble, ma’am. I can blacklist the phone for you immediately and send you a SIM card. According to our records, you are not eligible for a replacement, so you’ll need to purchase new hardware. We can also supply the serial number for the police and notify anyone who may be trying to reach you.”
“Just turn it off. I don’t want anyone using my phone.”
“Understood. Since you’ve notified us, you won’t be liable for any charges appearing after this time.”
“It was stolen at some point in the night,” I protested. “I don’t know what time.”
“You’re certainly free to dispute those charges, if they prove to be excessive.”
Shit. The thief probably stole my phone and then called a bunch of overseas numbers.
But I’d worry about that later. Though it would delay us further, I called the cops and we waited two full hours for a state trooper so I could file a police report. It wouldn’t do any good, but at least it was proof for Mrs. Keller that I wasn’t a lazy ass who just didn’t feel like working.
When the policeman left, it was damn near noon, and I was supposed to be at work soon. I knew the day-care center number by heart, and Lauren’s phone had enough juice for me to call in. It was the first time in my life that I ever did, such a horrible feeling, even though I didn’t have a choice. I babbled apologies for a full two minutes before she cut in.
“So there was a blizzard, you’re four hours away, and some butthead broke into your car. I understand, some days suck.” She sounded amused. “Don’t worry, we can cover your shift.”
“I was hoping I’d be back in time. I didn’t plan for the broken window. I have a police report and everything if you need to see it.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I trust you. Just be careful driving back.”
The woman in the motel office “fixed” my window with two plastic trash bags and duct tape, making the Toyota look even classier, and it did wonders for the ventilation. When I said something about damages, she didn’t even apologize, just pointed to a sign that said she wasn’t liable for items left in cars overnight.
“What a bitch,” Lauren snarled as we pulled out of the Motel Hell parking lot.
“It was worth it to see our families,” I offered.
There, that’s the bright side. Finally. Time to go home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The apartment was gloriously warm; my fingers ached. Max had them between his palms, rubbing briskly. Angus was making hot tea while Lauren filled them in. I let her lead me to the couch, still shivering. If I never drove to Nebraska again, that would be fine by me.