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I twist the knob, push open the door, and we both just stare. To call this place luxurious would be a severe understatement. The main office is outdated with cheap wood paneling on the walls and dingy, worn carpet on the floor. My nose scrunches as soon as the overpowering stench of pine needles hits me.
“What is that smell?” Parisa covers her nose with her forearms. “It’s like someone murdered a pine tree in here.”
I walk in first and Parisa trails behind me. We stride up the reception desk, to the left of the entrance, and there’s not a soul in sight. I tap the bell on the counter and wait while we both look around.
“I think I found the stink.” I point to a cluster of opened pine tree air fresheners dangling from a thumbtack on the wall.
“Isn’t this place…charming.” Parisa wrinkles her nose.
An older woman in her sixties with thinning shoulder length gray hair pops out of nowhere, startling us both. “Why thanks, dear. My husband and I have owned this place for over fifty years.”
“It’s probably been that long since you’ve last updated it too,” Parisa mumbles under her breath.
“Where are my manners? Welcome to The Pine Needle Motel.” The old lady flashes us a toothy smile. “How can I help you?”
“We need a room. Our car went in the ditch just down the road and we need to wait out the storm until a tow truck can come help us.” I rest an elbow on the desk while Parisa fiddles with a candy dish and other trinkets sitting on the worn wood top.
“Oh my, it’s quite the storm out there. We haven’t seen a storm like this in September since 1971. We got almost twenty inches of snow over two days.”
“Twenty inches?” Parisa’s eyes widen in shock. “We’re never going to get out of here.”
“It’s not too often we get these types of storms. But when it’s the perfect mix of a low pressure coming from the southwest and a strong Artic cold front coming from Canada, they collide over the Rocky Mountains and the combination wreaks havoc on everything.”
“Yeah. I’m about to do the same thing,” Parisa turns around and mumbles.
“We’ve had a long day. Can you see if you have any rooms?”
Parisa gives me a well duh look and I shrug.
“Let me see what I have.” She flips open an actual reservation book and thumbs through the pages as if she doesn’t know this place is a ghost town.
Parisa leans over the desk to get a view of the reservation book. “This better not be like a cliché romance story where you tell us there’s only one room available with only one bed and we have to share. Because if I have to share a room with him, I might just kill him.”
“Well, dear. It just so happens to look like—” the lady flips a few more pages in her book, squinting her eyes. Is she actually reading anything? Parisa rolls her eyes at her. “It looks like we have two rooms available. Six and seven.
Parisa’s shoulders drop in relief. “Great. We’ll take them.”
After we finish paying for our rooms, we head back out into the snowy night with our room keys in hand. Real metal keys and not the plastic ones. We walk down the snow-covered sidewalk. The only available light becomes dimmer with each step. I watch as each number on the wood doors increase. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Security Room.
“Why does this place need a security room? I can’t imagine they get a lot of visitors out here that would warrant the need for security.” Parisa cranks her head back and eyes the door as we pass.
“I don’t know, but here’s your room. Number six and I’m the next one down.” We stand at our respective doors. Just as I have mine open, I see Parisa struggling with hers. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Before I close the door, I hear her mumble, “Oh my God, there better not be bed bugs.” Then I hear her cursing her door for not opening and a few seconds later it slams shut.
Five
Gray sweatpants fantasy
Parisa
The lights flicker to life when I flip on the switch. When I turn around it looks as if I’ve traveled back in time. I think the 1970s threw up in here. There’s a desk with a mirror hanging above it to the left and a queen size bed on the right. Along the back is the small open closet and bathroom. The yellow and brown square patterned curtains do nothing to help the feng shui in the room. The only plus side, the room is larger than I was expecting.
Before getting too comfortable, I scope out the rest of the room. As I enter the bathroom, I click on the switch and a blinding fluorescent light over the mirror strobes to life, followed by a low hum. Definitely outdated, but functional.
Walking back to the main area I stop in front of the bed. The geometric brown patterned quilt is not creating a warm and cozy sleeping atmosphere. I rip back the covers to inspect that there are indeed no bed bugs. Exhaustion takes over as I release a yawn. The sooner I get to bed the sooner this day can be over. Unzipping my suitcase, I riffle through all my clothes before finding my pajamas. Once in hand, I make my way to the bathroom to change and wash my face. When I’m done, I turn on the lamp next to the bed and shut off all the other lights before crawling into bed. Then it dawns on me. My gaze darts to the mirror above the desk. On the other side of that wall is the security room. I spring out of bed, close my suitcase, and hoist it up onto the desktop covering the mirror. Feeling a little triumphant, I crawl back into bed and turn off the lamp.
Unable to get comfortable, I spend the next several minutes tossing and turning. When I’m somewhat satisfied, a loud bang causes my eyes to shoot open, followed by a scratching noise like a fork on a plate. The entire room is dark except for a sliver of light shining in through a crack in the curtain. I hold my breath, hoping to hear the sound again, but all I can hear is the drumming of my heart in my chest. Tiny pricks crawl up my bare arm. Without a second thought, I brush it off. Wait, was that a spider? I scurry off the bed in the opposite direction I brushed the spider and find the nearest light to turn on. Sure enough, a little, black body with eight legs is crawling across the white sheet. A shudder wracks my body as I do everything to tamp down my scream. With eyes still on the spider, I shimmy my way across the room, trying to avoid any sudden movements in case it tries to attack. Once I’m close to the desk, I hear it. A clicking sound. And that’s my cue to get the hell out of here. I shove my feet into my untied boots, throw my jacket over me, and rip open the door. Within seconds, I’m beating my fist on Seth’s. Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips. My heart rate accelerates and I’m pretty sure it’s not because I just ran out of bed. So, this is what he hides under his bow ties and black rimmed glasses. When my gaze meets his, a sly smirk graces his lips.
