Lillian didn\u2019t see the fingernail at first. She snapped the bathroom lights and headed straight for the shower. Mold grew like Bermuda grass on her side of the hotel. She had to squirt straight bleach across the caulking, hose down the rest with a 40% mix. No real help for it. She was done when her spit felt like sand.<\/p>\n
Routine was the shower, the toilet, then the sink. But the puddle caught her eye as she turned with the towels. It must have been six inches standing on the counter; softer than water and the color of dirt. The fingernail sat at its edge. Not fingernail clippings, but a whole fingernail, pulled from the root and crusty shovel-side up. The other side was three coats of bright green shellac with a silver thunderbolt. Lillian traced the nail\u2019s blunt tip. It ran the length of her life line; weighed no more than a quarter. She thought, How the hell did I miss that?<\/p>\n
Downstairs, it was close enough to 2:00. The other maids were already camped by the pool. Maria and Constance sunned themselves on the loungers, their faces turned skyward. Lan perched on the concrete, peering into the deep end. She drew circles with her toes on the motel\u2019s blank reflection.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need backup.\u201d Lillian shouted from the bathroom window. Constance visored her plump face against the glare. Maria cracked an eye.<\/p>\n
\u201cBackup!\u201d Lillian said. And when they didn\u2019t move, she ran down and tossed the fingernail on the patio table.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you believe this?\u201d she spit. \u201cOf all the human nastiness.\u201d She snapped off her gloves and paced the concrete where the Coke machine hummed. A prickle at her neck meant a migraine coming on. She pressed her fingers hard into her temples, filled her sandy throat with air, and let out a low baleful moan.<\/p>\n
\u201cOhhhh,\u201d said Lan. Lillian looked up to see the little Filipina with her eyes rolled upward and two fingers pointed at her head like guns. Maria hooted, pounding coughs from her chest. Constance bit the glossy smile from her lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean all that hollering was over this little thing?\u201d Maria picked up the fingernail with her bare hands and held it blood side up to the sun. She studied it like she might put it in her mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, Lillian,\u201d said Lan. She plucked a gum wrapper from the water and thwacked it on the concrete. \u201cA fingernail\u2019s, like, next to nothin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
All three of them had their good laugh about it. Maria knocking at her chest and rolling in the lounger. Constance tapping her eyes so the makeup wouldn\u2019t smear. Lillian leaned back against the Coke machine and felt its warm purr against her skin.<\/p>\n
Maria sighed. \u201cNow I<\/em> could tell you some shit make your knees give.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cResist,\u201d said Constance. She was all muscle in an instant. She thrust a finger at Maria\u2019s blunt nose. \u201cI can\u2019t hear about that girl again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy you gotta act like that?\u201d said Maria. She held Constance\u2019s eyes until Constance looked away. A silence fell over the pool. \u201cYou dance around here in a push-up bra and pumps. You had 145, if I remember.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou remember,\u201d said Constance.<\/p>\n Lan winced. \u201cGrey matter in the curtains,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n The Texas sun was like staring into headlights. The fingernail was just a shadow from where Lillian stood. Maria patted the empty chair beside her. She offered Lillian a cigarette. \u201cIt\u2019s just a fact,\u201d she said. \u201cYou work here long enough, you\u2019re gonna get the whole enchilada.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLan ain\u2019t got the whole enchilada,\u201d said Constance.<\/p>\n \u201cGot a hundred bucks from 113,\u201d Lan said. She flicked water from her feet. It was already 2:20. Break time was over.<\/p>\n \u201cYou see?\u201d Constance wagged her finger at Maria. She yanked her skirt straight as she got up to leave. Lan was not far behind. You were there for an hour, if you got stuck with Maria.<\/p>\n Lillian stood to stab out her smoke. \u201cGoing someplace?\u201d Maria held her by the elbow. \u201cI gave you that cigarette. It\u2019s piss rude not to finish.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI promise I\u2019ll be quiet,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n And, for a minute, the two of them did sit in silence. A group of kids set up directly across. Two blonds in bikinis, sipping from straws; their hammock-eyed boyfriends shirtless. They weren\u2019t more than twenty-five, but they were bloated and pink from too much partying. The boys cannon-balled from the diving board. They rough-housed, spraying water. Then they hoisted themselves, slapped across the pavement, and climbed up to do it again.<\/p>\n Maria took a long drag and closed her eyes. \u201cYou know I found that girl in 319,\u201d she said, smoke falling across her lips.\u00a0 \u201cPretty girl,\u201d she said. \u201cHad this long black hair smoothed over the pillow. Skin like cream. The works. I thought she was sleeping it off, but she was still right there when I came back at checkout.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian touched the sides of her head. At this point not hearing might make the migraine worse. It happened like that sometimes. So she let Maria tell her about the girl\u2019s dreamy look. How she held her thin shoulders and pulled back the blanket, expecting to get off easy with the top part so good.<\/p>\n But the girl had cut a line down the inside of each leg. The mattress was soaked; her thighs were shriveled, and her toenails were black. \u201cIt was like looking at two pictures at once,\u201d Maria said. \u201cDead and alive, good and bad, all at once.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian\u2019s hands shook so hard, she couldn\u2019t hold her cigarette. After all this talk, the old lady should have a secret, something that would feel like cool water on your knuckles. But Maria just laughed until her cheeks swallowed her eyes. She ashed onto the concrete, blew smoke at the sun. \u201cLan claims she found a hundred in 113,\u201d she said, \u201cbut it was just a twenty.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n That night, Lillian couldn\u2019t sleep. She popped a Xanax, then drank a couple beers. Nothing helped her head. She had that same humming feeling like before she left Billy. The nerves beneath her skin sung like hot wire. There was no air in her closet of a bedroom.<\/p>\n Out on Mopac, the taillights crested the hills to Rollingwood. They disappeared on the other side, heading home. She missed Travis, her boy. He wouldn\u2019t talk to her now, not since she left. She called for her scheduled hour, and he hardly answered her questions. \u201cFine. Whatever. Don\u2019t worry about it.\u201d His voice coiled tight as a fist.<\/p>\n Where was that kid she loved in the thick of things, when she and Billy were fighting every night? She\u2019d creep into his bedroom and rock him awake. \u201cYou had a bad dream,\u201d she whispered. He shoved over long after he stopped believing it. He told her jokes from a book Billy gave him, talking her into daylight, his body warm beside her. \u201cWhat\u2019s a pirate\u2019s favorite letter?\u201d he asked. \u201cHow is Star Trek<\/em> like toilet paper?\u201d She laughed so hard she cried.<\/p>\n The phone rang five times before she hung up and tried again. Travis could sleep through a hurricane. It rang five more times. She tried again and again. Finally, Billy picked up. He installed attic heat pumps for a living. His cough rattled like two bolts in a bottle.<\/p>\n \u201cAny idea what time it is?\u201d he said, once he finally caught his breath. He barked at her like she was one of the Mexicans on his crew. \u201cIt\u2019s 3:00, Lillian\u2014least, in our part of the country.\u201d Outside, a car snaked through the parking lot. Headlights caught the chain link fence like a negative; the juniper trees and the highway disappearing in an instant.<\/p>\n It always started this way. Her needing something, needing it bad, and Billy getting pissed when she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI just want to talk to Travis,\u201d she said and lit a cigarette to calm her nerves. \u201cNo bother for you. Just put him on a sec.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou were supposed to call two days ago,\u201d Billy said. \u201cSundays at 3:00 p.m<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian traced her lips with the cigarette\u2019s filter. Travis was a shit on Sundays, and Billy knew it. The last week, she had to act like a fool just to keep things going. She told her son things he didn\u2019t need to know about, like how she\u2019d gone down to Galveston and kissed a man whose mouth felt like mud inside, which was true but still not right.<\/p>\n \u201cI was trying not to bother you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n An old heaviness slipped into the silence between them. Billy cussed, and the mattress creaked beneath him. She listened to his callused feet brushing the hardwoods, the sharp exhale as he pulled himself upright. A woman\u2019s voice, husky-like, asked what was going on.<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d Lillian said. Her aching head cranked in a notch. \u201cWhat\u2019s Travis going to think? You sleeping with any old body rolls around?\u201d<\/p>\n Billy made a sound deep in his throat. \u201cAny old body? How about any old Edwin?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe left, and you know it. End of story,\u201d Lillian said. She laid her head against the window. Taillights crested the hill. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you just forget I called?\u201d she said. \u201cHang up and go back to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n His footsteps brushed down the hall. She heard a scrape and sigh, something heavy against Travis\u2019s door. The light clicked on. \u201cWhat the fuck?\u201d Travis whined.<\/p>\n \u201cYour mother wants to talk to you,\u201d Billy said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d said Travis. Lillian felt a tingle in her stomach. She imagined Travis squinting at Billy, his eyes grey as pebbles. His bony chest rose and fell.<\/p>\n \u201cNo problem, bud,\u201d said Billy, softer now. \u201cShe\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy\u2019s she calling at night then?\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian\u2019s bedroom clock ticked as she waited. Billy cleared his throat in the background. \u201cYou gonna say hello or not?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n Travis groaned. \u201cTell her I have a test tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n The nastiness came like an avalanche after that. The next week, there was a rotten umbilical cord in 335 and a clot big as a crabapple in 332\u2019s toilet. In 329, she found a towel smeared with poop in the tub. The guy who left it dyed his hair black and wore new cowboy boots. A guy like that ought to know better.<\/p>\n Lillian took her frustrations to the pool. She kicked the Coke machine and pounded the table. She chewed out a preschooler running on the concrete. He stared up at her with his fingers in his mouth. \u201cAre you listening to me?\u201d She poked at his chest, and the boy wet his pants.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you keep your bad luck to yourself?\u201d said Constance. Every time Lillian went rough, Maria cranked up, working the conversation back to the girl in 319. The hair, the thin shoulders, the shriveled feet.<\/p>\n Like Lillian could close Maria\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n Still, she quit taking her 2:00s. She called home instead from the motel\u2019s phones, smoking out of the parking lot windows and punching their number until someone picked up. Billy threatened to change it. He swore he\u2019d turn the phone off, but the home phone was for emergency repairs\u2014all those widows who never learned to flip a fuse box. If he changed the number, he\u2019d have to change the signs on his truck and a closet full of business cards. He\u2019d have to change the Mexicans\u2019 t-shirts, and Edwin was the t-shirt man. That\u2019s how he and Lillian met.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you just send Travis out here for a while?\u201d Lillian said. \u201cHe would change his mind if we could talk.\u201d That particular day she was smoking out the window of 322, where a software guy from Toronto had stayed two nights. Fat and balding by the looks of things. He left clumps of hair in the ashtray, fast food bags on the table, wax paper wrappers in the trash. They scattered into her cart like leaves.<\/p>\n \u201cSweetheart,\u201d Billy said. He did still call her sweetheart. \u201cI don\u2019t think you can handle him. You know about those smoke patches? Him getting caught at the mall?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA change could do him good,\u201d she said. \u00a0She flicked the salesman\u2019s bathroom lights and held her breath. Mold behind the curtain. But only hair in the sink. Only paper in the toilet. She closed her eyes against the white tiles. She tried to make her voice sound easy. \u201cYou and whoever could have a few days to yourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCheryl,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Lillian studied her pinched face in the mirror. She reached for a stack of clean towels, held them to her chest, and breathed in the smell of bleach. \u201cOh God, Billy. That\u2019s so corny\u2014Cheryl. Where\u2019d you find her? I bet she wears pink lipstick,\u201d Lillian teased. \u201cI bet she plucks her eyebrows down to nubs.\u201d<\/p>\n Billy exhaled.<\/p>\n \u201cI knew it,\u201d she said. She smiled at the mirror, trying to feel it. \u201cBilly\u2019s sweet little Cheryl with her baby-blue eye shadow.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShut up,\u201d he said, but it had no teeth.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n By late August, she\u2019d needled out three days. Travis\u2019s band camp ended Thursday. School started Monday. She had the time in between.<\/p>\n She sent a hundred bucks for her part of the ticket. Then waited in ABI all Friday afternoon, sitting under the huge milky windows. People came in waves. They crested with rumble and heat, and like a wave, they washed away. The red-faced techies paced, already too hot in their sweaters. The skinny mommies\u2014the kind Maria laughed at running laps\u2014yanked their kids into the middle of the swirl. A harp in a black case zig-zagged past the ticket line. The threat level was orange, anarajado<\/em>, naarangii<\/em>.<\/p>\n In a world this big, Lillian might not know him. The way Billy talked, Travis could be some kind of thug, with tattoos and heavy arms pressed tight to his body. He could have a full-blown mustache like Maria\u2019s son Mikey, or swollen hands from working the crew this summer.<\/p>\n Passengers hustled down the concourse. She spotted him at once. There were his long bony cheeks and pointed chin. His shoulders popped inward. He was trapped behind a cowboy with a chest like a linebacker. She watched Travis weaving back and forth, trying to edge past. His hair was nearly past his ears. His Black Sabbath t-shirt pulled snug across his chest. In one hand, he carried Billy\u2019s old helmet bag.<\/p>\n \u201cHey Travis,\u201d she yelled, cupping her hands around her lips. He turned at her voice, but his eyes drifted over. She had to wave before his face rested on her.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, my baby. It\u2019s so good to see you,\u201d she said. She fingered the summer-white tips of his hair. Then she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. His smells were new\u2014spray-on cologne and sour laundry.<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to get out of the middle of the floor,\u201d he said. He studied her a moment, tight-mouthed and blinking, and before she could tell him it was okay\u2014that this was a time she\u2019d imagined for weeks, and if he could just stay here one more minute\u2014he turned and stalked off toward the doors.<\/p>\n The sun had lifted over the clouds when they finally made it out of the parking deck. It bleached the highway and the scrub bushes on the slopes. This far from downtown, the buildings were low and concrete and crouched like bugs in the dirt. She hated it here when she first came with Edwin. He crowed about the music and the parties\u2014so much better than Charlotte\u2014but, to her, the place was worn out. Everything looked like it was meant for something else. Even the DMV was burned out and hidden as a triple-X video store.<\/p>\n Travis watched the dust and concrete. His face said this was a movie he\u2019d seen before.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d she finally asked. They were crossing the bridge into town. Mist hung like smoke above the skyline.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d He shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cYou come a thousand miles, and that\u2019s all you\u2019ve got for me? Dunno?\u201d<\/p>\n There was no way she could take him back to her apartment, with all her stupid life on display. She\u2019d scrubbed the cabinets; framed and hung her few pictures. She\u2019d bought a real set of silverware just for him. Lillian cut the wheel south and headed toward work. She would take him to the beach. She would pick up her check and take him down to Port Arthur, like she did with Lan and Constance some weekends. It was the beach; it didn\u2019t have to be dreary.<\/p>\n She was careful to park facing away from the pool. But it took half an hour to nudge a check out of the manager. By the time she came back, Constance was sitting on her hood. She wore a pair of light blue jeans and a button-up sweater. Lillian had never seen her in clothes that fit. She was all hips and boobs and those inch-long eyelashes in her uniform. But beside Travis, she was as small as a girl. She squinted at the smoke of a joint and passed it over. Travis held her fingertips. He licked his lips.<\/p>\n \u201cHe get that from you?\u201d Lillian asked.<\/p>\n Constance clambered off, twisting to straighten her sweater. Her voice came an octave too high. \u201cI never knew you had a son looked so much like a movie star. Look at all that blond hair.\u201d She ran her fingers across her own slick chignon, trying to read Lillian\u2019s face.<\/p>\n \u201cConstance, I said, \u2018Did he get that from you?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n The girl\u2019s face cut to Travis, asking him what to say. He held Lillian\u2019s eyes as he drew on the joint. His jaw pushed forward, warning like a dog might.<\/p>\n \u201cGive it,\u201d Lillian said. She was so hot, she couldn\u2019t see straight. She knuckle-punched his thigh, and he scurried backward, leaving her with a knee full of grille.<\/p>\n \u201cEverybody here knows you\u2019re a fucking nutcase,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Beside him, Constance\u2019s face was long and frightened. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean anything,\u201d she said. \u201cWe were just having fun.\u201d She reached out to help Lillian, and when Lillian shrugged her off, she said, \u201cI promise, Lil, it\u2019s gonna be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n Travis stabbed the joint on Lillian\u2019s paint job. The spot was as dark as a bullet hole. \u201cYou\u2019re happy now, I guess,\u201d he said. She meant to tell him no, that she had never been more unhappy in her life. But he heaved himself up and opened the passenger door.<\/p>\n Lillian waited as Constance crossed the parking lot, teetering on her platform tennis shoes, before they pulled back on the highway. The drove east through the city, down into more scrub hills and bright flatlands. Nothing but billboards and cattle fences from here. Darkness moved in with the clouds. Travis watched them from his window. The air between them eased.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you mention me?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cI show your picture to everybody,\u201d she said, but the words came out flat. Even Maria, old as she was, had Mikey to come and see her. She filled his pockets with jelly packets and raisins from the breakfast bar. How could Lillian tell them what she\u2019d done?<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone except for Constance,\u201d Travis said. His grey eyes met hers. She saw the flecks of gold inside them.<\/p>\n \u201cConstance?\u201d said Lillian. \u201cShe\u2019s the one who said I was nuts.\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n The times Lillian went to the beach with the other maids, they mostly sat by the water and waited for the oil guys to come out. Lillian perched in damp bars with these men. She let them trace the hollow outline of her face. They fingered the ticklish spot under her ribs. Their hands were rough and their nails were packed with grease, but she let them toss a couple dollars to keep her glass full. She didn\u2019t have real plans when it came to Travis, only a vague knowledge they would not do these things.<\/p>\n And so she took him to the beach the next day, and they watched the refineries churning black smoke. She took him down to the pier where some guy was catching kingfish. He had bony knees and dark sunspots on his arms. He\u2019d been camping out all week, he said. The old guy stood and Travis leaned in, studying the angle of the line. Finally a silver fish shot up from the water. It arced through the sky, catching sunlight on its scales. Then it dropped to the wood and started flipping for air. Travis stared at the fish like it might bite him. He always looked at things too close.<\/p>\n She offered him empty clam shells in consolation. They were smooth and purple inside. She gave him driftwood warmed by the water. Together, they walked the gravel road to the sound, and she coaxed him onto a platform that looked like a deer blind. A set of binoculars was mounted in the middle, and they took turns resting their chins on the frame. Their eye sockets pressed to see yellow finches and flycatchers in the reeds. Lillian thought she saw a streak of color, but Travis said she was making it up.<\/p>\n He didn\u2019t want to go to the aquarium, but they got out and paid anyway. They watched the nurse shark swimming blue circles. The red frogs on the glass. The water moccasins. At the touch tank, he shoved his hands in the water and shook them until the whole thing was muddy. She didn\u2019t dare tell him to stop.<\/p>\n \u201cRemember that time we went to the Atlanta aquarium?\u201d she asked instead. She walked closer to him and put her hands over his. The water was soft and warm. \u201cRemember, when we were visiting Mama Fran and Papa Mac? You liked the otters,\u201d she said. \u201cI painted whiskers on your cheeks, and you wouldn\u2019t let me take them off. Remember?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was four,\u201d Travis said. He pulled his hands out and wiped them on his jeans, pushing a long dark smudge across his thigh. Water dripped on the floor. He stabbed it with his toe.\u00a0 \u201cWhat?\u201d he said. \u201cWhat am I supposed to do?\u201d<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n That night they ate at a diner shaped like a boathouse but decorated inside with a fifties motif: black-and-white tiles and records stapled to the walls. Every table had its own miniature jukebox. Lillian\u2019s palms sweat like she was on a first date. \u201cTomorrow.\u201d She smiled up at him nervously, \u201cI thought we\u2019d head back to the city and hang out at the park.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going home,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cNot until the afternoon.\u201d Lillian sipped a beer and searched his face. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time,\u201d she said. \u201cI don\u2019t know what to talk about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe could rag on Dad,\u201d Travis suggested, resting his arms on the table. \u201cThat\u2019s always fun.\u201d<\/p>\n It was true; there were times, driving back from band practice, she\u2019d loosened her face and slapped her forehead. \u201cLil,\u201d she said, her voice deep and dopey, \u201cwhat are we gonna do for money? Lil, we\u2019re in deep.\u201d She\u2019d taken great pleasure in seeing Travis laugh at Billy, in seeing the gleeful crinkles of skin around his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI guess we were kind of silly back then,\u201d she said. \u201cI was kind of silly.\u201d<\/p>\n Travis started fiddling with the ketchup, spinning the bottle like he was playing a game. \u201cDad talks enough shit about you,\u201d he said. \u201cI think you\u2019re working on being even.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike what?\u201d Lillian asked. She felt a warm surge of pleasure.<\/p>\n He glanced up and shook his head. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t worry about it.\u201d<\/p>\n She asked again, and he still wouldn\u2019t tell her. He smiled a little when she asked a third time, watching the ketchup bottle spin. Lillian stopped the bottle. \u201cTell me this,\u201d she said. \u201cIs Cheryl pretty?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFat or skinny?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot either,\u201d he said. He read her disappointment. \u201cMore skinny than fat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat color is her hair? Is she tall? Have good teeth?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou ask too many questions,\u201d said Travis.<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n He said, \u201cI think I\u2019m done talking.\u201d<\/p>\n The last of Lillian\u2019s paycheck was still in the envelope from the bank. She pulled it out of her purse and laid it on the table. \u201cWhat if I gave you a hundred dollars?\u201d she said, snapping the bills like cards. \u201cYou can tell me five things. Twenty per.\u201d<\/p>\n Travis smiled slightly, like she\u2019d told a dirty joke. \u201cAll right.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian held his eyes. \u201cWhat does Daddy say about me?\u201d<\/p>\n Travis slipped the first twenty closer. Lillian leaned forward. His pupils inched open; she felt his breath on her cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cHe says you\u2019re a bitch.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian laughed. \u201cPut it back,\u201d she said. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t count, and you know it. I meant things I didn\u2019t already know. Things I hadn\u2019t heard a thousand times before.\u201d<\/p>\n Travis shrugged and kept the bill under his hand. He\u2019d worked it in his pocket by the time the food came. They sat the plates around the money. Lillian tapped the stack together. \u201cYou gonna take the rest or what?\u201d<\/p>\n Travis took a swallow of her beer, considering. \u201cOne time I heard him say he can\u2019t wait till you come back, so he can tell you to get lost.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian exhaled. Now they were getting somewhere. The words felt snug as a blanket across her shoulders. She could feel the edges of her body against the seat, feel her elbows pressing into the table. She put her hand over the money. \u201cWho did he say it to?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAunt Carla.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot Cheryl?\u201d<\/p>\n Travis shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cAll right,\u201d said Lillian. She slid the bills closer to him. \u201cThree more.\u201d<\/p>\n They ate in silence, silence surrounded by the clatter of plates, the buzz of people talking, the swoosh swoosh of the waitress\u2019s stockings. Travis stabbed at his fries. His jaw twitched as he chewed. He nodded now and then, like he had a conversation playing out inside his head. He plucked a twenty from the stack. \u201cEdwin\u2019s moved back to Charlotte. He called us up about the t-shirts.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian\u2019s heart pounded in her ears. Her neck muscles pulled tight. \u201cIs that a fact?\u201d she said, squinting up at him. \u201cDaddy gonna do it?\u201d<\/p>\n Travis watched her, then took a long sip of her beer. \u201cHe\u2019s the cheapest by a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, then,\u201d said Lillian. She pushed two bills across the table, trying to keep her fingers steady. \u201cI guess that\u2019s two for you.\u201d<\/p>\n Minutes passed. Travis drank the rest of her beer. Lillian took a bite of her hamburger to calm her nerves. The meat was soft and warm in her mouth. Grease coated her tongue and slid down her throat. It seemed such a long time since she ate something good. She took another bite, and Travis breathed a laugh. \u201cMom, you should see yourself. Chewing and chewing, like your life depended on it.\u201d He worked his jaws like a blowfish, imitating her. \u201cI hate the way you eat.\u00a0 He shrugged.\u00a0 \u201cDaddy says he hates it too.\u201d<\/p>\n Tears flooded her eyelids when she swallowed. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t say that. I don\u2019t do that,\u201d she whispered. Around her, the diner hummed and swirled. The waitress hustled past, her white tennis shoes a blur.\u00a0 Travis stared at her under the table light, pleased with himself.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is what it looks like,\u201d he said. He shoved a handful of french fries into his mouth, ketchup gathering at the sides of his lips. He snorted and groaned and smacked his lips. The family beside them tried not to look.<\/p>\n \u201cStop it,\u201d she said. And when he did not, her hand came down hard on his head. What a sound. Like a rock falling on dry dirt.<\/p>\n \u201cJesus, Mom.\u201d He drew back. \u201cYou asked for it.\u201d His face was smeared with food. He had grease in his eyelashes. She grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse thumping.<\/p>\n \u201cI know I asked for it,\u201d she said. His eyes went glassy, and for a second, she saw the outline of her face.<\/p>\n Travis slid the last twenty from the table.<\/p>\n She tossed him her napkin. \u201cI swear this is the last question. Do you want to go home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShould I call your dad, then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess not.\u201d<\/p>\n Lillian ordered another pitcher of beer, and the waitress went ahead and brought Travis a glass. The quarters in her pocket were the last money she\u2019d see for two weeks. \u201cOkay moneybags,\u201d she said, \u201cfind something decent to listen to.\u201d<\/p>\n He picked a song from the jukebox she\u2019d never heard before. It was gentle and sweet; not screaming like the music he played at home. Travis drew cartoons on the placemat as they listened: a family with bobble heads and frizzy hair and seal eyes, sort of like the people who\u2019d been staring at them.<\/p>\n When the last song ended, Lillian spoke through the quiet. \u201cI\u2019ve seen a dead body,\u201d she told him. \u00a0She sat back and closed her eyes. She saw it so clearly. \u201cIt was a suicide,\u201d she said. She felt his eyes watching her.<\/p>\n \u201cI walked into the room and saw this beautiful woman under the covers. She was the prettiest woman I\u2019d ever seen. Her hair was dark and spread out on the pillow. Her cheeks were soft and pink.<\/p>\n \u201cI left her the first time. I thought she was drunk, but when I came back, her eyes were open. She had this look on her face. Dazed, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n Travis nodded, breathing quietly through his mouth. It was just him and her under the table light. \u201cWhat happened next?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cI pulled back the covers. There was blood everywhere. Her chest was purple. Her toenails were black.\u201d Lillian paused. \u201cIt was the worst thing I\u2019d seen in my life.\u201d<\/p>\n Travis swallowed. He took a deep breath. \u201cThen what?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Lillian did not know. Maria never took her story that far. She\u2019d never thought to ask that question herself.<\/p>\n \u201cJust the normal stuff,\u201d she said, smoothing over. \u201cThe police came and took her. I pulled the sheets off. I scrubbed the mattress till there was just a shadow. Then I put on new sheets. I spread the blanket across the pillows.\u201d<\/p>\n She knew what she was doing, talking like this. She was calling it into being; the body. It would be there at the motel Monday, or the next day, or the next. She could see herself quietly folding back the covers. She could see the blue veins and hear the crackle of her sponge. They were already hers.<\/p>\n Lillian didn\u2019t see the fingernail at first. She snapped the bathroom lights and headed straight for the shower. Mold grew like Bermuda grass on her side of the hotel. She had to squirt straight bleach across the caulking, hose down the rest with a 40% mix. No real help for it. She was done when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[5],"tags":[20],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-1w1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5829"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5829"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5829\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10455,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5829\/revisions\/10455"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5829"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5829"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5829"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Sylvan Allen<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"