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“Shhh…” I whispered, clamping my hand over his mouth.
“Why are you whispering?” he asked me. At least now he was whispering too.
“What’s going on here? I feel like I’m in a bad dream. Why are we in these people’s house, about to go to sleep?”
“Because we’re tired?”
“I get that. But why are we in their house?”
“Because they’re neighborly?”
“Tom, they knew we were going to sleep here before they ever even met us. Look around. Look at this place.” There were fresh flowers in a vase beside the bed. A book called Welcome to Starling Falls was standing on display on the dresser, beside a wicker tray holding bottles of mineral water and glass tumblers. I picked up the small, African basket on the lower shelf of the bedside table and poured out its contents onto our bed: Travel sized packets of Advil and Pepto-Bismol. A mini book of prayers and meditations called The Traveler’s Spiritual Companion. A packet of Kleenexes. A sewing kit. One tampon. One condom. One portable wet-wipe. “What is all this?” I whispered.
“Maybe they just keep it like this all the time, in case someone shows up,” said Tom.
“That would be even creepier,” I said.
“I don’t think they did all this for us,” said Tom.
“Yes, they did. Those are fresh flowers. Everything’s all clean and not dusty at all. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to our house.”
“No.”
“Please, Tom? I feel like there’s a camera on us right now. Do you think they’re recording this?”
“No.”
“I’m pretty sure they are. I can feel it,” I whispered, scanning the corners of the room.
“You can go home.”
“By myself?”
“I’m not going to stop you, but I’m tired. I’m staying. This feels like a hotel.”
“Don’t you want to go back to our place?” I asked.
“No,” said Tom. He got up and went into the bathroom and closed the door.
I turned down the dimmer switch and then went over to the window to look across the street. It was strange seeing our house from up here. I could see the entire front and side of it perfectly. Bathed in moonlight and one streetlamp, it looked like a looming monstrosity. After being in this perfectly finished project, the task of restoring our house now seemed particularly daunting. I had a dull sensation of dread, understanding for the first time the enormity of the project we’d taken on.
Without meaning to, I listened to Tom brushing his teeth and running water. I could almost imagine for a second that we were staying at a bed and breakfast and that Starling Falls was still just some town on a map.
Only, this wasn’t a bed and breakfast. It wasn’t some stop on a road trip. We were staying with our new neighbors, who were going to have to be our friends, like them or not.
“I want to go home,” I whispered, picturing no actual place, but a feeling of safety and comfort that seemed completely out of reach. I wanted a way out of all of this.
“They put out your favorite kind of toothpaste,” said Tom as he came out of the bathroom.
“Spearmint?” I asked.
“I meant that organic brand you can only buy at health food stores.”
“Super,” I said flatly, brushing past him on my way into the bathroom.
“They’re just bored and lonely,” he said softly, catching my arm and looking into my eyes.
“I gathered that,” I said. “Tonight feels off. I think there was something in that pie.”
