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“We just love it here,” said Priscilla, her dreamy self-stroking now focused on her collarbones.
Tom and I had always had a way of communicating without words. A perfect understanding of one another. Yet on this night, for the first time in our whole relationship, there seemed to be a barrier between us. I didn’t want to drink these people’s liquor or sleep in their bed, yet there we were. Tom’s eyes were hazy and half-closed.
Thank you, I told God. He had, after all, answered my prayer. Now I wished I would have used it for something bigger.
“Why don’t we show our guests their room?” Barnaby said to his wife.
“Sure,” said Priscilla.
Tom’s heavy eyelids fluttered open and we stood up. We followed Priscilla, with Barnaby trailing a few feet behind the three of us, back to the foyer. “Would you like to see the rest of our house right now or should we save that for tomorrow?” asked Priscilla.
“I think we’re both really beat, with all the moving and everything, right Tom?” I asked, my eyes pleading at him. He shrugged.
“You look tired,” Priscilla said to me. She shook her head sympathetically. “Follow me.”
When we reached the top of the stairs, she turned to the right and took us past a few other rooms until we reached what was to be our room for the night.
“Here you go,” she said, giving us both a gentle shove into the bedroom. “You can see the rest of the house in the morning. Everything you need should be here, but if you need anything, we’re right across the hall. What would you two like for breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” I asked. I hadn’t realized our stay included breakfast. “We have some food at our place,” I said, picturing a box of Pop-tarts and some bags of trail mix I’d thrown into a box of kitchen gadgets. “That’s nice of you, but you don’t need to make us anything.”
“Nonsense! What do you like? Hash browns and bacon? Waffles?” she guessed, looking me up and down.
“Umm,” I began.
“What about you, Tom? A smoothie, maybe? Quichey casserole? Fruit?” Priscilla continued, ticking off the goodies on her menu on her long fingers.
“Wow,” s
aid Tom, waking back up. I was afraid his responsiveness might be enough encouragement for us to receive the rest of our tour immediately.
Barnaby peeked his head in over Pricilla’s shoulder. “I highly recommend the quichey casserole,” he said, licking his lips. I felt like I was a kid spending the night at some weird classmate’s house and these were her creepy parents.
“You really don’t need to make us breakfast,” I said. “This is more than enough.”
“I have to make something for us anyhow, so it’s no trouble for me to make enough for you two,” said Priscilla.
“I won’t turn down breakfast,” said Tom.
“Well then,” she said, “I’ll surprise you with something.”
“The bathroom is right there,” said Barnaby, pointing to a door in the corner of the room. “There are towels in there and I think Prissy got some shampoo and soap ready for you. Right, Priss?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Just let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you both,” I said. “Good night,” I added.
“Good night!” said Barnaby.
“Sweet dreams,” said Priscilla. To Tom, just to Tom.
“Good night,” he said, his face flushing.
At that, Priscilla pulled the door most of the way closed. Tom sat down on the bed while I stayed frozen, listening to the two of them going back downstairs. When I was sure they were really gone, I went over to the door and clicked it shut, and gave it a tug to be sure it would firmly hold in place. I wanted to lock it, but there wasn’t a lock.
“Tom. Tommm,” I hissed.
“What?” he asked in his regular decibel of voice.
