The Motel

The story contains thoughts if suicide and alcohol abuse.

Let me get a drink. Okay okay, now let me tell you about the motel. You see this bar, the room wasn’t as big as this bar, oh no it was a cramped room, you been in the toilet? Yeah, it's about that big, okay, okay maybe a lil bigger, but yeah, not as big as this bar.

So I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

I found the hotel somewhere between Mansfield and Ashland Ohio, Lizbeth, you met her? She usually sits on that stool over there, she found it on some lonesome stretch of 66. I dunno, I traveled 66 five times and never saw it. Though, the motel it was right there between Mansfield and Ashland. By god it even looked exactly how Lizzy explained it.

Anyways, from what I understand, now get this, the motel will just be there for you, but only if God or Buddha or whatever deity you believe in, deems you worthy of needing help. Oh I see that skeptical look, you not religious, that's okay, maybe we will it into being, maybe it has nothing to do with God. Who the fuck knows, all I know is that Lizzy and I found it in two different places at two different times, and motels cannot move now can they? Well this one can, you see, after I couldn't find it Lizzy took me right to where it was, it was gone. Poof. Like it never existed, what was there now? A Carl’s Jr. Carl’s Jr ain't no motel, I mean she wasn’t sleeping in no grease fryer. I did the same to my motel, it wasn’t there, but it wasn’t replaced by no Carl’s Jr, no no, it was replaced by trees and bushes, no no I'm not that far gone that I slept in a tree house, oh no.

You see this motel it comes to you when you desperately needed it, and I desperately needed it. You see my friend I was at the end of my rope, you see, I think of things wouldn't have changed I was on the way to having an intimate date with a noose and a ceiling fan, if you catch my drift.

So I didn't even see the motel, it was off the main highway, my arms just turned without realizing it. I went for like a mile or so and there it was, a small building like Lizzy said, colored loudly in purple and pinks. It reminded me of something you’d see when I was a kid. A sign proudly proclaiming to have a color tv, like that was special now, a flickering vacancy sign, and get this, live palm trees. In Ohio. Palm trees. Not those fake plastic ones that are planted to give you Floridian vibes, hell no, these were as real as you and I. Like I could reach out and touch it like I’m touching you right now.

Now, my truck it shuddered to a stop and just shut off on its own accord. Now my boy, I treated my truck right, it was the only thing I had going for me after Betsy left me I was reeling, she couldn't handle me after Maddie, you know our daughter, died. I lost the house, and took up drinking more than I should, but my truck, it was my home, I took care of it more than I took care of my own marriage, so in no way would that truck have broken down. No, it was intervention of some sort. Divinity or whatever, I was brought to that spot and stranded, forcing me to do nothing other than walk in.

I'm parched, here I'm going to get a drink. Oh, no I see you’re worried, it's just a Coke Zero. I've not drank since I stayed at the hotel. Not one bottle of alcohol, not one shot of whiskey. I tried one day. The bottle is still sitting on my counter back at my apartment. I don't need it. Not one single drop.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, thanks, I was getting out of my truck. You don't believe this, not at all. When I opened my door I was slapped in the face with a strong ocean smell as if I was standing on a Floridian beach, in the middle of Ohio.

I just stood there, I could hear music playing from inside the lobby, mixed with the breeze blowing through the palm leaves.

The closer I got to the motel the more the atmosphere changed. At first, I felt an electric charge engulf me like I was walking through a thin wall of static. It dispersed quickly and I could taste the ocean in the air, feel the moisture sticking to my face.

I touched the door and it opened, with nary a sound. I walked in and smelled vanilla. An older lady stood behind the counter. “Do you need a room?” She asked. I didn't see her mouth move when she asked. Though, I may have been mistaken.

“My truck broke down.” I said.

“Do you need a room?” Her voice was haunting, and echoed through the lobby. “You do need a room, yes?”

“Yes.” I said, but it felt more like it was pulled from my throat than me actually saying it.

“Good. Here is your key, you'll be staying in room twelve, please enjoy your stay.”

I turned around to walk out, then something did occur to me. I turned back, “About payment…” but she was not there, only an owl. I just turned back, and left the lobby.

Now I had room twelve, which was weird as there were only, get this, three total rooms. Room four, nine, and twelve. Now, this was weird to me. Wouldn't you just number the rooms one, two, and three, and if you wanted to be freaky maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, and twenty-three? But, four, nine, and twelve?

Oh, you're still skeptical, that's okay I didn't believe Lizzy when she told me. Yes I went looking, but isn't it weird that when you look for something you never find it, only when you stop do you tend to walk right into it. It's okay, you don't have to believe, it would benefit you to.

Now, when I got out of the lobby I actually looked at the key, it was a metal key, that motels used to use before they moved to the insignificant keycards, attached to the key with a ring was a plastic tag that indicated the room number and to drop the key into a mail box if found. As if the post office could find where it belonged, they can't even get delivery right. I'm 222 Main, not 222 Market.

Well, damn. You've got to use the toilet, well hurry on back.

Now, that you emptied that bladder of yours, where was I? Oh yeah, all the windows for the other rooms were narrow, with the curtains pulled tightly. When I got to my window I looked in. The curtain was open, and I could see the whole room and understand why the others were closed tight. Like I said earlier, the room was small. The bed was on the wall to the left of the door.

I walked over to the door and stuck the key in and turned it, the key turned smoothly, issuing a loud “ker-chunk.” The door opened up barely missing the bed by less than an inch, there was a narrow wall between the bed and the wall across from the bed, in the back of the room was another door I took for the bathroom, on the wall next to the bathroom door was a shelf with a TV in it, and under the shelf was a rod where you could hang your jacket.

The weirdest thing yet, was the phone. It was out of place, like it was calling to me. I guess in more ways than one. The phone, was new. Not new for the era of the motel, it was new as in 2025 new. Made this year. It was cordless. It was up next to the TV. I made it no more than an inch into the room when I tripped on the edge of the bed and went falling onto the floor, hitting the side of the bed with my left shoulder and my right slamming into the wall. It hurt a little bit, the wall was not made of plaster, it was made of concrete or something of the sort. As not a scuff on the wall, but I hit it with enough force that would've busted through cheaply made plaster. I laid there, feeling the hard wall pushing into my shoulder. I groaned as I pushed myself up to my knees and looked up and stared at the phone, just sitting there. Staring at me, I'm not trying to say the phone was sentient, but it felt that way. It felt like, well, the motel was wanting me to pick up the phone, to call someone. I pushed on up to my feet and stared at the TV. It was off, a blank screen. Next to it the phone. It was like it was glowing, kinda like those video games Maddie would play where the items that are of some importance would have a glowing, uhm, indicator to imply that.

I pushed that memory down, because I’ll tell you, if you dwell too long in the past you'll get stuck there son, and if you get stuck there ain't no way of getting back out short of ending your own life.

I'm not telling you that the only way out is death, but it's the easiest way out, the other way is a lot of therapy. A lot of therapy, finding out your issues. The motel tells you what you need to do who you need to be, you need to do the work to get there. The work is hard, it's fucking hard.

Okay I know in skirting the story, but you're not going to believe this, you're not. You might think I'm nuts and think this here Coke is actually Rum. It isn't. Yet when that phone rang, it changed everything. Uhm, could you hand me a napkin, I'm probably going to start crying.

My shoulder it was stinging when that phone rang. I stared at it some more. Then I stood up and grabbed it. The screen was lit up but it was blank. My skin grew cold and clammy the more the phone rang. I pressed the button and was met with an ear piercing roar of static, I almost threw the phone down when I heard it. “Daddy?” A voice, no Maddie’s voice calling out to me through the static.

“Maddie?” I croaked. I could feel my whole body shaking, my hand especially as the handset kept knocking into my jaw. “Baby?”

“Hi Daddy! I've missed you.”

“How.” I asked.

“Daddy, it's okay I'm okay. You need to be okay, I'm dead there's nothing that's going to fix that. Mommy isn't, she needs you Daddy, she needs you to take back control of your life.” With these words a calmness covered me. “You need to be Number One Dad again.”

“I love you.” I said, tears were flowing down my face. Most people would think they were hallucinating, not me I knew damn well that that was my daughter, so profound. She was always, always profound.

See, I did need that napkin.

The next thing I woke up in the bed, face still soaked, phone still in my hand, crackling with static. I stared at my hands, at the phone in them. I called my wife. I told her I was going to change my life, that everything would be better. I walked out of the room, I didn't need a bed, I needed to get back to her.

I see you're not all there, it's okay you will understand that even if it's not real, if I dreamt it, the motel was still the catalyst. Was still the driving force behind me making my life right. I mean, this here Coke is enough proof ain't it?

Oh, I'm not laughing at you son, I'm telling you this story because those drinks aren't going to fix anything. Maybe, if you see a purple motel somewhere off the highway you should stop, it might have something important it needs to tell you.

Oh, there’s my phone. I’ve got to head on out, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome here huh?

You watch as the man leaves the bar. You hate to say it but you believe him. You believe something changed his life, you believe that out there there's a motel for you, waiting to call you in when you get close enough, to whisper the words that you need to hear, whatever those may be, but until then you'll sit on your stool, and stare at that snow globe on the shelf behind the bar, the snow globe with a motel, and palm trees, and a date, 04/09/12.