By the time she made it down the mile-long road that led to the motel, Sapphire was exhausted. Sweat trickled down her neck behind her coat collar despite the cold February air. Her arm, which was extended behind her dragging her suitcase sometimes on and sometimes off the road due to the occasional passing vehicle, was more than sore.
So much for this town being friendly to strangers, she thought as another car passed her. Not that she would take a ride even if offered.
Without even looking up to confirm, she could practically feel the curious stares of the vehicle's occupants as she finally turned onto the dirt path that led to the motel. Sapphire cast the long one-story building a skeptical look. At least the pictures online hadn't been a lie. No deceivingly clever angles or focused pool shots to try and trick people here. The pictures online had captured the drab, paint-chipped building in all its inglorious appeal perfectly.
A little relieved only to see two to three cars parked in the long lot, she made her way to the door marked Office.
Inside, the space kept true to the image of the hotel's exterior—grimy and dated. For some reason, the room was much smaller than she expected. The reception desk stood only a few feet from the door and cut the room in half, leaving her to stand in the jokingly small reception area, which consisted of one folding chair, a fake potted plant, and a gold ashtray that looked as if it was stolen from outside a real hotel. The jingling of the bell on the door served its purpose because as soon as she was able to get her bag over the threshold, an old man stepped through the door behind the counter and looked at her.
He was old and rail-thin with a head of surprisingly thick white hair. If he wasn't so ghastly thin, Sapphire could imagine the old man being asked to do men's shampoo commercials.
"May I help you?" The man's voice was so hoarse and congested it made her want to clear her own throat.
Stopping in front of the counter, she gave the man her best forced smile. "I called you the other day about having an extended stay. The name is Sapphire Waters."
Not even bothering to look at any of his records, the man's eyes lit up, and he gave her a reassessing look.
Sapphire watched as the old man's eyes traveled up and down her body and finally narrowed at her face. When she had called, she had told him she was eighteen and that she needed the room for the foreseeable future. Unlike most hotels she had called, he hadn't seemed to care about her age which only added to the laundry list of red flags this place gave off.
"Let me see some ID," he demanded grouchily.
Expecting this, Sapphire pulled the laminated card from her front pocket and handed it over. Examining the card, he looked from it to her and back again.
She knew what he saw and understood the problem perfectly. The issue was she looked older than her legal age. Suppressing a sigh, she waited as his eyes looked her over. A little taller than most girls, she stood at about five-foot-eight and was a little overweight. With her soft, ample body and naturally golden skin, it never seemed to take much to attract the opposite sex. Men were drawn to the pouty set of her full lips, while boys her age fought for the attention of her eternally bored gaze.
Handing back her card, the man made a gruff sound under his breath before reaching for the rows of hanging keys behind him. Plucking the one that readRoom One, he handed it to her. "Like I told ya on the phone, this ain't no place for a kid like yourself."
Sapphire's stomach knotted. He couldn’t go back on his word now. She needed this; she literally had no other option.
Opening her mouth to argue, the man held up a wrinkled hand and cut her off. "But since you're hellbent," he continued, giving her a narrowed gaze, "I'm putting you in the room next to here. I don't suppose there'll be any issue, but if so, you'll be close by."
She wasn't sure if he was talking about her causing an issue or someone else. Honestly, she was too relieved that she was actually getting the room to care. Taking the proffered key, she gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
"That'll be a hundred a fifty for the week, and just like I told ya over the phone, ain't no cleaning service come with that low price," he warned, giving her a skeptical eye as if she would start arguing any minute.
Nodding, she bit her bottom lip to refrain from saying anything smart. A quip on what he defined as cleaning service was practically burning her lips to be let loose. Discreetly counting out the bills below the counter, she pulled them from her envelope and handed them over.
Taking her receipt and key with a mumbledthank you, Sapphire exited the cramped office and turned left down the broken concrete path lining the building. She only took a few steps and stopped at room one. Bracing herself, she put the key in the door and turned.
Please, no roaches. Please, no rats.She prayed over and over again in her mind. Stepping only one foot into the dark room, she flipped on the light to her right and held her breath.
Dark wood paneling lined all four walls and the ceiling, while green and red carpeting made an odd, almost paisley-like pattern across the floor. Walking slowly inside, Sapphire stared at the little kitchenette in surprise. The mini-fridge topped with a microwave reminded her of her setup back in Houston. She missed her cozy mint green room. For the past few years, the little bedroom had been her sanctum.
Walking over to the microwave, she let her fingers glide along its edge. It was clean. Not greasy or covered with flecks of food particles, actually clean. Looking around, she could see that the whole room was clean. Extraordinarily run-down and dated, but clean. This she could work with.
Her eyes stopped on the white square sitting on top of the folded quilt at the end of the bed. Walking over to it, she picked up the sheet of paper.
"Hello, Sapphire. What a pretty name Sapphire is. My name is Blanche Kennedy, and my husband is Herman, who you have met in the office. When my husband told me a young woman would be coming to stay, I had him give you our suite. I know it isn't much, and I have asked Herman to put a few things in the room to make it feel like home. I hope you enjoy your stay here, and I hope you'll come by and see me whenever you have time."—Blanche
For a long moment, Sapphire just stared at the note rereading the short paragraph again and again. Now the kitchenette made sense. When she had called, the surly man on the phone, Herman, had told her there were two types of rooms, a standard, and a suite. She had asked for the price of the standard, not even bothering to hear about the suite prices. Putting the note back down, her fingers glided against the multicolored quilt that lay folded at the end of the bed. Looking around, she noticed one or two more traces of Blanche's touches throughout the room. On the bathroom counter and on the bedside table, both sat little glass vases with some spriggly little flowers. Sapphire bit the inside of her cheek as she felt a surge of emotion tightening her throat. She could hardly imagine the grouchy man in the office setting the flowers in the room nor carefully folding the quilt, but here they were neatly waiting for her.
Setting her bags on the luggage rack, she walked over to the little dining table near the window and pulled back the curtain.
Right now, her mother was probably already in Mexico, curled up next to her fiancé, Andreas. She could just see the smooth-talking man with his slicked-back dark hair giving her mother that half-lidded look that seemed to drive the woman crazy. They were no doubt going to spend the rest of the night dancing and drinking.
Right now, all Sapphire wanted to do was lean on the supporting strength of her anger toward her mother. An anger that had helped her get through the past few weeks when her mother had announced her selfish plans. But the well of anger seemed to be missing. Tiredly, Sapphire sank into her seat further as she watched a few cars zoom down the country highway in front of the motel. For whatever reason, she just felt a little empty and a whole helluva lot tired.
A smile touched her lips as she turned and looked at the quilt at the edge of her bed. Maybe this place wouldn't be that bad.
