A woman sat on the edge of the far too narrow bed with her coat zipped up to her chin. Her weight molded a divet into the weak mattress and the pleated comforter became heavily wrinkled. Her dour eyes wandered about the smallish room. Compared to the average hotel room, the room was quite barren.
There was a bed that was pushed into a corner, an arched lamp sat on top of a nightstand, a humming space heater, and an overstuffed carry-on. The heater struggled as it sputtered out a broken hymn of heat. As of now, only the right side of the room was warmed. The lady at the front desk claimed it would take just five minutes for the whole room to warm up, but Rosa was becoming skeptical of that claim.
Her body remained enveloped by her stumpy coat and cashmere scarf. Her flesh begged for warmth and her eyes became dry from the winter air. Rosa's back remained curved and her arms cradled one another for warmth. Her jaw remained tense because it was either that or her teeth chattering together. She was miserable.
Her only window was to her right. It was squarish, speckled with grime, and covered by a heavy crimson drape. The rod above looked as if it were to snap at any moment. Rosa finally decided to rid herself of her puffer coat, chucking it onto the edge of the bed.
Micah, her ex-fiance, bought her that coat and scarf just six days before, claiming it to be just a gift and only that. Then, five days ago, he gave them a reason as he handed her plane tickets to Alaska. On the fourth day, he asked how her roommate was faring after graduating. Three days ago, he left their apartment without explanation for the entire day, only to stumble drunkenly through the front door at midnight. And yesterday, he finally admitted that he had been having an affair with her former roommate for the past year.
She snapped the drapes open and witnessed how, in thirty minutes, the entire town of Sitka had become engulfed in darkness. Strings of light illuminated every street corner revealing, much like her hotel room, the arid city of Alaska. The streets were squalor with snow and slush. The houses were painted with vivid colors yet all bore the same low roofs with shingles that barely stuck on. The mountains in the backdrop sprouted from the ground and touched the dim heavens.
Every so often, there would be a lone person bundled with only a heavy jacket. Each person who appeared on the slick streets staggered into the bar across the street. Just above the door, a sign blazed a bright red sign that simply read The Bar. Its windows were all draped with black curtains and its front door slammed shut just as soon as it was opened.
Rosa had not told her parents that the engagement had been called off. So now, she was stuck in Alaska for ten days. She thought that she would be able to binge whatever cable had to offer but, with the frigidness of her room and Alaskan hotels tending to not have television, her plans have swayed.
Rosa closed the drapes, snatched the room key from the nightstand, and fled her room. The yellowing lighting in the hallway mellowed the dreary hotel and the multiple space heaters that lined the hallway expelled an immense heat. The ceiling was noticeably lower, allowing Rosa to see the water-stained splotches among the tiles.
The carpet had an unsightly geometric pattern of both circles and squares. The circles held an ugly cerise. Meanwhile, the squares were either turquoise or striking kelp green. The kelp green was practically the same shade as her scarf, which was still tightly fastened around her slender neck. Micah said it paired nicely with her eyes. Rosa huffed to herself.
She trudged to the end of the hallway and into the stairwell. The staircase had a chill in the air. Rosa reframed herself from using the metal handrail. It held a sort of iceiness that only further numbed her fingertips. Rosa finally reached the landing and briskly opened the metal door. To her immediate right, there stood the front desk of the quaint hotel. Though the world was soon to be approaching the twenty-first century in a couple of weeks, the older generation still seemed attached to their landlines, pens, and papers.
An older lady sat behind a desk with only a notepad and a mug full of pens. The desk itself was truly just a thick slab of wood. Two pieces of timber sat on the floor vertically and one hunk of oak lay horizontally. Whether they were screwed or nailed together, Rosa could not tell.
A frumpy desk chair was behind that lump of wood. Fragments of faux leather had already begun to shed from the chair and strings of cotton puffed out from the exposed spots. The hotel manager sat there, slouched. The headrest jetted backward as it buckled from the weight of the old woman's head. The lady was filing her nails and white dust, like snowflakes, fell from her fingernails and down into her lap. If Rosa remembers correctly, her name is Betty.
Just as Rosa had left the stairwell, Betty's head shot up from her shortened nails. Her thin eyebrows became raised, but the file continued to buff her nails. "What's wrong, hon?"
"Nothing, I just thought of checking out the bar across the street," Rosa replied, her mouth tightened.
"Nope. Something is definitely wrong. And I don't mean boredom. The only way you're going to get over this is if you tell someone," Betty elucidated.
Rosa could tell that the old woman was quite garrulous. Her lips fluttered as her tongue whipped its gossip and tales. Rosa could also hear a distinct tar that coated Betty's throat, making her vocal range to be even and monotonous. But, a repetitive pang tolled her skull. Another headache began to spread from Rosa’s temples and to her brows. Perhaps telling a stranger would help elevate the pain of silence.
"My fiance of two years broke up with me yesterday and we were supposed to vacation here together," Rosa admitted.
A gasp left Betty's lips, theatrical and a tad forced. Still, Rosa felt the headache fleeting for the time being.
"Oh, now that's just awful," Betty empathized as she slowly shook her head.
"Exactly why I'm going to the bar," Rosa laughed. Her features lightened as her wan expression transferred to Betty.
Betty's verdant eyeshadow creased as her eyes widened and her mouth contorted wickedly. "You should talk to the owner of the bar."
"Alright?"
"Talk to David. He's my nephew and he's very single. Besides, he does a bunch of hikes and tours for visitors," she chimed.
Rosa attempted to scratch the back of her neck, a nervous habit, but the thick scarf got in her way. "Get back into dating already? Seems too soon."
Finally, Betty relieved the headrest of her weight as she leaned into the desk to retrieve a dull-colored nail polish. "It's never too soon, love. Not to brag, but my nephew is quite the looker."
Rosa laughed, softly and politely.
"Ya know, he's taking a group of kids out to the Tongass forest tomorrow. They should be around your age and it's fairly priced," Betty continued with a hum. Soon enough, the chemical smell of nail polish perfumed the small lobby.
"Alright. I'll consider it."
Her feet led her to the front door. From the inside of the lobby, it was difficult to tell if there was a blistering blizzard or a balmy rainstorm for there were no windows. The double doors seemed to be made of solid oak, plain and heavy. Upon touching the doorknob, Rosa was reminded of the ferocious temperatures just outside.
While using all of the strength in her right arm, the door stridently opened and the biting night air infiltrated the cozy hotel. Rosa slammed the door quickly behind and stumbled into the slush of the narrow road. She crossed the street with much haste while burying her drying mouth and burning nose into the thick cloth.
Finally, she approached the front door which strangely had no windows as well. The windows just to the side of the door were burrowed within red brick, frost, and a glaze of white flakes. The knob was frozen and required a forceful hand to open. Eventually, the bolt latch retracted, grinding and wailing.
Rosa entered the bustling bar. The ceiling was tall and adorned with wooden beams. The entire structure of the bar seemed to be made of wooden planks, counters, poles, stools, and tiles. Light fixtures were strung from the ceiling, each of the bulbs winking. The golden hue of the bar masked the blizzard that was germinating just outside. The windows themselves were shielded with black woolen curtains. Multiple coat racks were near the door and all were covered in puffers, leather jackets, and woolen coats.
Noticeably, the bar's audience seemed to be predominantly male. There were about five men, all hunched over the bar with their coats slung over the back of their high seats. An old box television blared at the left side of the bar. The five men, including the bartender, seemed to be entranced by whatever hockey game was being broadcast. Another six men were crowded around an intense game of pole. With each passing minute, there was either a stony silence or roaring banter from that corner of the room. In between the bar and the singular pool table, there were three small tables which were all occupied by both women and men.
Rosa’s arms tangled with one another. Her eyes fell from the bar and to the bartender, who she assumed to be David. Rosa unfastened the scarf from her neck, not wanting her sweat to ruin that kelp green. His back was turned to her while his cap was facing her. Micah wore his baseball caps in the same fashion when they first started dating.
She approached the bar.
"What can I get you started on?" The man asked. He was now facing her, but his face was masked by the strong cast of shadows.
"I'm looking for someone named David, Betty's nephew."
About two of the five men turned for a glance, and then a sudden yelling from the small television diverted their attention back to the little box.
The apples of his cheeks became illuminated by the overhead light as a wide grin wrinkled his face. “That’s me.”
*****
A gray exhaust billowed from the rattling pipe of David's truck and into the crystalline sky. With the clamorous sun and plentiful snow, Sitka was quite blinding to behold. The roofs, cars, sidewalks, and roads were sheathed in a fine mist of white. Icicles stuck to the rain gutters and began to shed its thickness as water dripped to the right of Rosa. Her eyes did the same, shedding droplets of salted water.
David stowed both his and Rosa's backpacking gear into the bed of his pick-up. She decided to pack light. In her compact backpack, all she took was some water and trail mix. David promised that the hike was quite short.
"Alrighty, it's going to be quite a drive up," David chirped as he stuffed a wad of twine into his pack and shut the pick-up bed. Rosa could have sworn she saw his pointed canines sparkle. David’s dimples became etched with his prolonged smile and his eyes softened as her response became delayed.
"But, what about the others?" Rosa questioned.
"They canceled."
Rosa's eyes widened as her small lips curved into a quaint smile. She decided to not push the matter. "Ah. I see."
He leaned his body against the rusting truck and his expression became impish. "I think that they went a bit overkill with shots at the bar last night."
Rosa simply nodded as she was more interested in how his unruly strands of copper brown shot from his baseball cap. Strangely, his hair held no shine, but the blaring sun gave his chestnut locks a slight shimmer.
Finally, David lightly tapped a tight fist on the tailgate. "Well, I'm ready when you are."
The pair trudged through the snow and into the car that made caterwauling sounds as it sputtered to life. The tires spun feverishly, becoming free of slush and deep snow, and sped out of the narrow streets of Sitka.
The inside of the pickup was banal and small. Each seat has been cracked, picked at and flaked off. The dashboard was basic; it was made of plastic with dented dials. In the middle of the dashboard sat a spluttering digital clock, which made it superfluous as it was about fourteen minutes off.
The forest of pavement, bricks, and rising gray fumes left Rosa's sight. Now, a boisterous city of spruce, western hemlocks, and dense sheets of snow came into view. The winds grew more tame as the forests surrounding them became thicker. It seemed as though the world only became more still as they furthered their journey into Tongass forest. To Rosa's surprise, the outmoded tires held up on a road made of only sleet and ice. The route itself looked to be trampled on for the wet slush was mixed with grime and soot. But, apart from a mighty box truck that barreled to the small city of Sitka just five minutes ago, they did not pass any other vehicles.
Their conversation quickly became saturated with Rosa's college life. She maintained the banter to be light as she avoided topics regarding Micah. After thirty minutes, they passed a thawing creak and had transitioned into David's bar and his hunting cabin on the edge of Blue Lake. He admitted that he went to a blue-collar school for carpeting. He then shortly dropped out after the passing of his grandfather and, in turn, inherited the bar.
Rosa noted how small the interior truly was. There was only one seat in the middle that remained unoccupied which had a nasty smear of some mysterious liquid that had the same color of rust on the headrest. The color almost reminded her of dry blood. A sour tang flooded her mouth, but David’s charming words kept a smile frozen on Rosa’s face and giggles fled her smallish mouth.
"The group that was supposed to have come with us had graduated early like you," David replied.
"Thankfully they didn't come. I'm not sure if three other adults could have squeezed in here," Rosa admitted.
The truck was indeed meant for three people. David's jaw muscle rippled. His free hand rubbed his brow ridge, a habit he seemed to have picked up recently. She was sure she had struck a nerve, though the comment was harmless. David’s demeanor became dry and Rosa became uneasy with the prolonged silence. So, she decided to rest her left elbow on the pullout car handle. A sharp crack of plastic sounded and her arm jolted downwards as the hunk of the plastic handle fell into her lap.
Rosa chuckled lightly as her foot tapped rapidly. "Can I just stick that back on there or-"
David's stocky arm shot across the stained seat, his fingers grasped the handle, and yanked it from her. "Not necessary. Happens all the time,” David faltered.
His hands clutched the steering wheel, his deep-colored eyes darted between the road and the rearview mirror. Suddenly, David’s foot slackened from the acceleration pedal and pressed the brake. The whitened foliage and dense forests became unblurred as the spokes of the tires slowed.
Rosa glanced at David. His lips were thinned and his eyes glowered. "No one comes down this road."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe the occasional truck, but besides that-"
"Why did we stop?" Rosa interrupted.
His brow flicked upwards. "Oh, I just needed to get something from the trunk."
He wiggled the car knob open and popped the trunk open. Rosa expelled an uneven breath, though she was unsure as to why she was holding her breath. Just as David had left the truck, he crashed the bed shut with force and sped back into the truck with his hands fisted.
“So what did you do with the rope?” David spat with cold eyes.
“What rope?”
His ashy hands wagged madly. “The twine. It’s not there anymore and I know I put it in my pack.”
“Maybe you dropped it?”
His nostrils began to flare. “I don’t just drop things.”
“Well, do we really need the twine?”
“We don’t,” David admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. His eyes skimmed her bare neck. “But, I need it.”
Rosa felt a prick to her stomach and her chest began to heave. She could not bear to lose another man in her life. With knitted eyebrows, Rosa stammered as she confessed her undeniable feelings. “I remember how when I saw you in the bar last night, I thought that I had another chance-”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?”
“There is no tour,” he admitted. His pupils shrunk as they landed on her seatbelt. “You know what, forget the rope.”
His heavy body launched from his seat and his knees dug into that copper stain. His hands lept for the belt that had once protected Rosa and arched the piece of nylon around her throat. Her nails scraped his skin and legs kicked the air stupidly. Her lips turned blue and a strong vein popped through her pale forehead. A box truck raced by their car, but paid no attention to what he thought to be two lovers.
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1 comment
Well that turned bleak pretty quick. You never know who that new person you just met really is.
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