“What are you doing here?” I demand, my eyes moving between the key card on of her hands and the suitcase handle in the other.
“You’re here,” she says and takes a tentative step into the room. She jumps when the door slams shut behind her.
“It’s my hotel room. Of course I’m here.” My voice is stony and she flinches, her eyes dart to the floor.
I thought you were working all day,” she says.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my hotel room and how you got a key. Start talking or I’m calling the cops,” I warn.
Her head snaps up. Her panicked eyes fill with tears and her gaunt, pale cheeks flush as she presses her hands together in front of her chest, as if in prayer.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t. I just…I need a place to crash during the day. Just for today. I found your extra key in my stuff and I wasn’t gonna do anything besides shower and sleep. I swear. I’m just…” her eyes cast around the room, restless and anxious. They linger on the bed before they come back to me.
She’s dressed in the same clothes she was wearing the night we met - acid washed jeans that are a size too big, a t-shirt one size too small. She’s got black smudges around her eyes and smears of red lipstick around her lips that look like they’ve been there for days.
She smells like cigarette smoke and beer.
“Did you just get off work?”
She purses her lips together as if I asked her a question she doesn’t want to answer and nods sharply.
“Listen, I’m sorry I bothered you. It’s just…I heard them say your song was playing today. I figured you’d be gone at something to celebrate. I just — Don’t call the cops. I’ll go. Can I— I just please use your bathroom? I’ll be quick and then I’ll be gone.” She’s shivering and I can’t tell if she’s sick, or scared.
Fuck me.
I look at the clock, remember where I was going and why. I don’t want to waste another minute and whatever is going on here is clearly going to take longer than that.
I make a snap decision and pray it doesn’t come back to bite me.
“You can stay here until l get back. Order some food from room service, take a shower, nap, whatever. But don’t touch anything and don’t take anything that you didn’t come with if you decide to leave before I get back.”
As a precaution, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her.
She flinches at the sudden flash of light and rubs her eyes to clear them. “What—what was that for?”
“It’s so I can show the cops if you dick me over.” I warn and slip my phone into my pocket.
She frowns at my phone, but mutters “fine.”
“I thought you liked taking pictures,” I say sarcastically. She took pictures of me in the shower last time she was here and then, more when we were fucking and I made her delete them.
“I’m sorry about that. And I deleted them when you asked.”
“I’ll do the same if you’re here when I get back. Don’t touch anything.”
Oh, Brother
“I’m sorry, Jack. For all of it,” I finish my story with that apology and wait for my brother to look at me.
I arrived at his hotel only a couple hours ahead of time because of the cluster fuck in my hotel room. He was dead to the world asleep when I got there. Jack’s always been able to sleep anywhere, anytime, no matter what was happening in his life. He’s also one of those people who wakes up alert and focused.
I just finished telling him the whole story, not leaving anything out, including that I went to her wedding.
Jack’s eyes are trained on a spot over my shoulder, his face a mask of enigmatic concentration. We’ve been sitting like this for five minutes and I’ve been coming out of my skin the entire time.
But I sit, because I know that prodding him will only drag out the wait for him to talk.
“So, Susan Kendicott has two kids, ten years apart with Drew Wolfe? And the one girl you met all summer, randomly at this lake, turns out to be your— I mean, shares DNA with you?” he asks, each word is said slowly and deliberately as if he’s choosing them one at a time.
“Yeah,” I nod, a knot of nausea in my gut as I acknowledge the truth that’s ruined everything.
“That’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?” He asks, his expression still not focused.
“Yeah, I know.”
He finally looks at me, his dark blond brows drawn together in consternation. “I don’t buy it. I really don’t. What are the chances?”
“Well, the DNA test I took say the chances are 99.9%” I remind him patiently for the second time. I’m trying hard to stem my irritation.
I’ve had a whole year to grapple with it. I went through the same mental exercise when I was confronted with the truth. He’s just learned everything, I need to let him work through it, too.
He shakes his head. “Nah.I mean, I guess. But, isn’t there some sort of biological switch or something that makes it so you can’t fall in love with people you’re related to? ”
“It’s something called the Westermarck effect, it’s not biological, but it happens when you grow up in close proximity with your siblings…or with anyone, really. Blood relative or not. It’s why neither of us understand why anyone thinks Nadia’s hot. We know she always farts loud and long first thing in the morning.”
We both grimace at the memory.
“That kind of thing tends to stop people from finding each other attractive - normally, anyway. There are some siblings who grow up together, and still experience Genetic Sexual attraction. But if you don’t grow up together and you meet your sibling it’s very like that you’d be attracted to each other. I’ve read so many stories like ours. One of them - they were married, going through IVF and found out then that they were twins…” I trail off when I realize that Jack is looking at me like I just grew another head.
“What?” I ask flushing under the scrutiny of his gaze
“Uh…you been studying this shit or something?” he asks.
“Yeah, I guess…”
I look around the room to avoid looking at him.
It’s one of the signature suites at this hotel and it’s got a spectacular view of LA. But, it’s still just a hotel room and it feels sterile. I’m really ready to get back to New York and start this tour.
Especially now that I’ve got this new problem waiting for me in my hotel room.
“Earth to Carter,” Jack snaps a finger in my face and I blink.
“Sorry, if I’m keeping you from more important things.” he says dryly.
“No, man. I’m just thinking. This is a lot.”
“Yeah, I’m sure for Beth, too. Phil said she’s been gone on her own for three months. I hope she’s got some support and isn’t walking around as fucked up as you are,” he says.
Embarrassment heats my neck and face with the uncontrollable blush I’ve always lamented.
Until now.
After watching Liz wearing a mask just to survive in her own home, I’m grateful that I’ve always had a safe place to be vulnerable.