American Vacanza

tan italian guys who take showers • madison

We woke up at a small motel by the Iowa-Nebraska border after a sleepless night. We'd finally checked into the motel a little past midnight, but regretted our choice of lodging after finding out that the room's floor was more comfortable than the mattress on the bed.

Being my stupid stubborn self, I called the bed and was willing to fight for it before I realized I'd rather sleep on a figurative bed of nails. Whenever I moved the slightest little bit (and I was not the soundest sleeper, mind you) I heard a loud, horror movie-style creak and felt the sharp, stinging pain of a loose spring in my back. No matter how many times I rolled over, finding a comfortable position was impossible.

If the faulty mattress wasn't enough, I was weighed down by the guilt of ditching Ethan. I was tired and my brain was out of whack, so I didn't even know if my head was in the right place- but I felt horrid. Whenever I was about to fall asleep, thoughts raced through my head and heart faster than a Nascar driver, but I couldn't tell if they were my legit thoughts or not or just weird parts of my conscience.

Ethan deserved it, right?

But now that I was awake, and Siena was still asleep on the grimy floor, I was able to take a deep breath and forget about everything that had happened last night. Today was a new day, a fresh start. Maybe if I said that enough in my head it would start to be true.

"Wake up! I shouted, impulsively (but gently) springing up and kicking Siena's sound, peaceful body. "We need to make it to Chicago today!"

"Why Chicago?" she grumbled, turning over so I could see the back of her blond head, her long locks pressed into wild spirals.

"Becaaaaause," I complained. I was sick of hick country and cheap motels. Even if it was just for the night, I needed civilization. I needed luxe shops, even if we just looked around. I needed buildings with more than just a tiny diner or convenience store in them. I needed hotels with little tiny soaps and complimentary pillow chocolates that didn't double as laxatives.

Plus, Chicago held a special place in my heart, but siena didn't have to know that.

I was nine years old. My dad had been on a business trip, so my mom and I had tagged along with him, staying at an amazing hotel, seeing all the sights, and spending time on the beach, even though we had a perfectly good beach at home. My mom had grown up in Illinois, so she knew the city like the back of her manicured hand.

Did I want to go back to Chicago, a place where the memories of my mom were still raw? She'd died a little over three years ago, so I was used to doing most things without her; I was even used to doing them with Krystal, her replacement. But I hadn't been to Chicago since that time. To face those memories head-on... It might be scary. But it might give me closure.

Siena came to her senses and got up off the disgusting floor. "Can I wear my pajamas out?" she mumbled. 

"I don't care what you do, as long as we got out of this spidery hellhole as fast as possible. Actually, good idea. I might as well, too." I picked up my jeans from yesterday off the cold concrete floor and stuffed them into my duffel bag. I was so ready for a nice, warm, real hotel, preferably one with a high balcony that we could chuck Ethan's duffel bag from.

"Okay. Let's get out of here," Siena concluded. It amazed me how quickly Siena could get herself up. I had to have Krystal come into my room at least three times and usually threaten something I loved on order to get me out of bed. But maybe it was the filthy motel, with its cracked walls and insect-ridden corners, that made her want to get out so quickly.

We stepped out into the foggy daytime, taking a deep breath of the wet air. We could barely see our car from where we stood, but ran to the parking lot. The motel felt like the kind of place where a lot of bad things happened, like in movies where people go to shoot up heroin or murder a hooker.