She smiled shyly. That smile made her look about eight, that and the pink hearts she’d drawn on her wrist.
“You got a room?” I asked. “The sign says Vacancy.”
“Oh, yeah—sorry.”
She clicked off the IM screen and began rummaging around the desk. “We have lots of rooms. Um, non-smoking only, that okay?”
“Sure.”
She pulled out a clunky old credit card machine and handed me a form. “You visiting someone?”
“Yeah. Nice piercing.”
“Hey, thanks!” She was cute, in an early Xene Cervenka, bad hair kind of way. “I like your jacket. It looks … real.”
“It is.” I filled in the form and handed it back to her.
She read it then looked at me in surprise. “You’re from New York?”
“Yeah. You’d fit right in there.”
“I wish. I would love to go to New York.”
“Yeah? Maybe I could fit you in the trunk on my way back.”
She laughed, then froze.
“Mackenzie! I told you, cash only!” A bleating, high-pitched voice echoed from the other side of the room. “No credit cards, sorry—tear it up! Tear it up!”
I’ve heard that pigs are among the most intelligent mammals. Seeing Merrill Libby, I could believe this was true. A short, bloated man who looked like he’d been carved from a slab of salt pork, he wore brown Dickie overalls and a flannel shirt that billowed around him like a deflated plaid balloon. He had small bright dark eyes, and his cheeks were an unhealthy pink against his white skin.
I gave the girl a quick sideways look, raising my eyebrow in sympathy, then turned back.
He waddled up beside the girl and elbowed her out of the way. “I told you, cash only,” he repeated. “Go to your room.”
Mackenzie started for the door. Her father stared at me balefully.
“All I want is a room.” I pulled out two twenties and slid them across the counter. “Okay?”
He took the money and stuck it in a cashbox, keeping his cold little eyes on me the whole time.
“No smoking,” he said. “Checkout’s eleven. There are no telephones in any of the rooms.”
By now I was just hoping there’d be heat and a flush toilet. I waited as he turned and began checking a row of keys. Just outside the doorway, Mackenzie stood and watched, her face half-shadowed so that all I could see was the glint of metal along one ear.
Poor kid, I thought. If he was my father, I’d hammer nails in my head too.
Merrill handed me a key. “Checkout time—”
“Eleven,” I said. “One question—is there anyplace to eat around here?”
“This time of night?” Merrill looked as though I’d asked for directions to the local Satanic Hall. “No.”
I wanted to point out it was only five o’clock, then recalled that I had not, in fact, seen anything resembling a restaurant for at least two hours. I hadn’t seen anything resembling a motel, either, and all the B&Bs I’d passed were shut for the winter.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
I went back outside and got my stuff from the car. The wind had picked up; my cheeks stung from the cold and salt mist. I hurried toward my room—Number 2—slammed the key into the lock and kicked the door open.
Inside was no warmer than out, but at least there was no wind. I shut the door and put on a light then located the electric heater, a pre-Sputnik deal with exposed heating coils.
Within seconds the coils began to glow. I huddled over them and warmed my hands and face until I felt like I could move without cracking. I did a quick room inspection—more knotty pine, a single bed with protective plastic beneath thin white sheets, a hundred-watt bulb in a lamp shaped like a lighthouse, Sears Kenmore television with rabbit ears. Propped atop the pillow was a small hand-lettered sign—
Please DO NOT LEAVE
Your Disgusting Germy Used Tissues
Under The Pillows
Thank You Your Host Merrill Libby
I had just tossed the card across the room when there was a knock. I opened the door. Mackenzie stood in the dark, wearing a ratty wool poncho.
“Hi.” She gave me that sweet shy smile, then glanced over her shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you—what he said about nowhere to eat? He’s wrong—there is a place. Down in Burnt Harbor, on the waterfront.”
“Wait, come in,” I said. “It’s freezing.”
“Thanks.” She stepped inside, and I shut the door. “It’s warm in here, anyway.”
“It’d be warmer if you left the heat on.”
“Huh?” Her brown eyes widened. “You’d be paying to heat an empty room all winter.”
“Right.” I hadn’t thought of that. “So there’s a place in Burnt Harbor?”
“The Good Tern—it’s right on the main street, you can’t miss it. The only street,” she added. “There by the water. The food is really, really good. They open for breakfast at five.” She looked around and her gaze fell on my bag. “So you’re really from New York? That must be really, really cool.”
“Really, really different from here, I can say that.” I rubbed my hands above the heating coils. “You work for your father? No child labor laws in these parts?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “Only part time. I go to the voc school up by Naskeag Harbor. I’m studying culinary arts. I want to be a chef. Or maybe make my jewelry and sell it.”
“Good idea. You could come back here and open a restaurant.”
“No way. I’m going to New York. Or San Francisco. I hear that’s a sweet place.”
I looked at her, the pink heart on her hand and the piercings that hadn’t healed all that well; the way she stared at my leather jacket, like it was a shiny new bike or whatever the hell kids dreamed of up here—a snow shovel? I leaned forward to peer at her necklace, the sea-glass glinting green and blue between the aluminum tabs. “Did you make that out of old cans?”
She fingered it and nodded. “Yeah. I like to do stuff like that.”
She held out her arm to display more tabs and sea-glass threaded with wishbones and broken seashells and dirty gray twine—beautiful and strange, like something you’d find buried in the sand. For a moment I thought she was going to say something else.
Instead, she went to the door. She looked at me, her face half-shadowed, and gave me that sweet kid’s smile.
“Okay, bye,” she said and left.
For a few minutes I sat on the bed and tried to warm up. The protective plastic crackled noisily every time I moved. I was afraid if I waited too long I’d end up stuck to the plastic, stuck here all night, hungry but still too buzzed to sleep.
Plus, I needed a drink. I peeled off my jacket and held it above the heater until the room started to smell a little bit too much like me, slung it back on and went outside.
I headed for my car, walking past Room 1. Without warning the door flew open. I ducked as a man stumbled onto the sidewalk. When he saw me, he backed up, smacking his head against the door.
“Hey, watch it,” I said and edged away from him.
He rubbed his head and glared at me. “Goddamit, that hurts. What, are you lost?”
“No. I was leaving my room. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”