Ten Years of Public Breakups, Then He Ran After My Bus novel · Chapter 15 of 40

Chapter 15: Motel Light

By nine that night the nurses had thrown us out.

Linwood was asleep with a bandaged wrist and his mouth open, and a night nurse checked him every fifteen minutes.

"Go sleep," she said, in the hall. "He's going to be fine."

"I'll stay," Eben said.

"There's a chair."

"I'll take the chair."

"You'll take a bed," I said. "There's a motel on Brighton Avenue. Ten minutes."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Four hours, Eben. You've been up since two. If he needs anything they'll call."

He looked at the closed door of room 312.

Then he looked at me, and for once he didn't argue.

It was snowing when we came out of the garage.

The first snow of the year came down thick and slow in the orange light of the parking lot.

There was already an inch on the hood of my car.

I drove.

He sat in the passenger seat with his head back against the rest and his eyes shut.

The motel was a flat brick row with a sign out front that buzzed.

The sign said VACANCY in red.

The clerk gave me one key.

"One room?" I asked.

"One's what I've got," the clerk said. "Big storm coming."

I looked at Eben.

He had his hands in his jacket pockets and his shoulders up.

"One's fine," he said.

The room was clean and beige, with a king bed and a television bolted to the dresser.

The window had a heavy curtain that didn't quite close.

Through the gap, the red light of the sign fell across the carpet in a long bar.

I set my bag on the chair.

He stood by the door.

He didn't take off his jacket.

"You want the shower first?" I said.

"No."

"Eben," I said.

"I'm just standing here."

"You're standing there like you're waiting for somebody to tell you what's next."

"I am," he said.

It was so plain that I had to look away.

I crossed the room.

I took his face in both hands, the way he had taken mine in my kitchen, and held it.

His skin was cold from the snow, and rough, and his eyes were closed.

"Hey," I said. "Hey. It's done. He's all right."

"I know."

"He's all right."

"I know. I know he is." His voice cracked. "I just keep waiting."

"For what?"

"For somebody to walk through the door."

He opened his eyes.

I knew what he meant, and he knew I did.

I kissed him.

It was soft, and it went on a long time.

I felt him let go of something, all through his body, a tension that came out of his shoulders and his hands.

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