Day Out of Days Read Online Free PDF Page A

and an apologetic face. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, “but they’ve just confirmed that room I was telling you about. That ‘smoking’ room with two beds.”
    “Oh,” I say.
    “Yeah, they just phoned in to confirm it. They’re on their way. I’m sorry about that.”
    “That’s okay.”
    “There’s a Motel Six just down off Twenty-five. They usually might have a vacancy. If you want, I can call down there, see if they’ve got something.”
    “Would you mind doing that? I’d appreciate it very much.”
    “No problem. I’ll let you know.” She turns and heads back to her post. Becky seems to have pulled herself together now. Her arms drop, and she starts brushing off the front of her coat as though she’s just discovered lint. She turns back to me with a smile and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.
    “Well, I’m so glad I ran into you, Stuart. You look the same as always.” She steps toward me with her hand extended, which I find slightly ineffectual under the circumstances, but I go along with it. Her hand feels icy and slim and she slides it back out of my grip almost immediately. Then she gives me a little peck on the cheek, like a sister might. It all comes back to me now, the smell of her soft breath. “Bye,” she says abruptly and walks away, disappearing down the hallway again.
    If I had a gun right now, I’d shoot both the plasma TV screens and maybe the overstuffed sofa and then maybe I’d start in on the glass coffee table and the Caribbean vacation brochure and all the
Time
and
Newsweek
magazines with Men of the Year on the covers. Instead, I wander back over to the desk, where the girl with the laminated name is being surprisingly helpful. I get close enough to read the tag as she squashes the phone between her chin and her collarbone while scratching down a note.
Lashandra
, the tag says, and it has a little yellow happy face to go with it. “Lashandra,” I sayto her, not knowing exactly which syllable to emphasize. She squints at me and holds a blue-lacquered fingernail to her lips, as though she’s about to land a luxury suite down at the Motel 6. I signal to her that I no longer want the room by drawing my index finger across my throat, then head for the revolving doors. Lashandra calls out to me in dismay, “Sir! Excuse me, sir!” I turn back to her. “Don’t you want the room? I think I might have found you something.”
    “No, thanks, but I do appreciate your efforts. You’re very kind.”
    “Oh, no problem at all, sir. Sorry it didn’t work out.”
    “Lashandra, could I ask you a quick question?”
    “Sure, sir. Anything at all.”
    “Don’t you ever go crazy listening to that TV all night long? That—murder?”
    “Oh, I don’t even hear it anymore. You know—it’s just always on.” She smiles and I pass through the revolving doors. The pistol shots fade behind the glass.
    Outside it’s dark and snowing lightly, flakes floating through orange light. I completely forgot that I left the car running, and my yellow dog is clawing frantically at the windows, seeing me approach. I let her out the back. She slides across a patch of ice as she hits the asphalt. Her tail is wagging wildly in circles as though she’s picked up the scent of quail in the dead of winter. She dashes off toward a little square of brown grass to take a leak. I follow her under the glow of the No Vacancy sign, which I guess I entirely missed when I stopped here. The temperature feels like it’s dropped down into the low twenties by now and the flying snow is making my eyes tear up. The dog must be taking the longest piss on earth. She just squats there with one hind leg weirdly raised, staring straight at me as though I might run off without her. Steam rises behind her. The hollow moan of the highway makes me wonder if I’ve finally broken all connections without even really wanting to.
    I pop my dog back in the car and slide into the driver’s seat, which is now red hot since I