When we left there was no plan. It was just the two of us, Todd’s car, an atlas rolled up next to my feet and the western sky. Todd wanted to drive. I was itching to take photos.
By the time we reached Illinois we still didn’t know where we would spend the night. Todd took an exit and ended up on a country road that led to a bed and breakfast.
“We’re staying here?” I said. Those were the first words spoken in hours.
Todd parked in the gravel driveway. The sun’s rays glowed deep oranges and reds as they set across the countryside, which was flat. In front of a vast cornfield was Sweet Dreams. The bed and breakfast was a three-story purple house complete with a gazebo, where the green paint was severely chipping, and an overgrown flower garden lined the yard. Vines snaked up the sides of the house. The house had a small yellow addition in the back, which was a miniature house nestled against maple trees. It looked as if no one lived there for months, a romanticized abandoned house where criminals might meet. Didn’t most horror movies take place in the Midwest, in abandoned-looking places just like this? Nevertheless, I grabbed my camera and snapped a few shots of the place. I didn’t want to forget.
I squinted at the bed and breakfast. I hadn’t washed my hair since we left earlier in the week and I was desperate for a hot shower.
“You want to knock, Avery?” Todd said, right as I took a photo. His mouth was wide open, and his long index finger pointed at the house like a tree branch.
“It doesn’t look like anyone lives there,” I said. I looked at him through the lens. “You go.”
Todd was curious. This road trip only made the curiosity worse; had it not been for me driving through the two and half hours of torture in Indiana, we would have circled Interstate 465 five times, just to make sure we “didn’t miss anything.” Todd was all about the whole “going against the grain” idea. To this day I still give him credit for being different. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t high, he enjoyed intellectual conversations about traveling to new places, but most importantly, he listened to me. If I wanted to complain about school, or work, or that I didn’t have enough chocolate in the chocolate stash, he listened. Between that and a sense of adventure with him, I felt like I had nothing to lose. During the trip, the excitement of driving out west increased his adventurous side ten-fold, however, so I was tempted to tell Todd that the fiftieth White Castle was all that we didn’t see. Illinois was Indiana’s fatter twin; there were fewer White Castles, but just as many cornfields and orange construction cones lined the roads.
“Don’t old people go to a bed and breakfast?” I said.
“Not always. Besides, I think B & B’s have more of a homey feel,” Todd said.
“Whatever. I’m just sick of being in a car.” I pushed open my car door, hopped out, and stretched my body. My insides felt like a squished slinky. I grimaced as a thin line of sweat trailed down my lower back. It had been hot the past couple of days. I hoped the place had air conditioning.
As we unloaded our suitcases a small, round old woman opened the front door waved us in. Her straight white hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore blue sweatpants and a pink t-shirt that had a chocolate smear on one of her sagging breasts. When we entered the house we introduced each other and headed to the lobby, which also served as the living room, for the check-in process.
Bertha Sue seemed nice enough. She motioned for us to sit on a squashy couch. A few minutes later she returned with two mugs of green tea along with a platter of chocolate chip cookies. They were still warm and nearly broke apart in my hands. She looked at us with her bright blue eyes, which were magnified by her round glasses that looked too big for her wrinkly face. I didn’t touch my tea.
“Where are you kids headed?”
“We just graduated from college so we’re taking a road trip. We’re going to places like Yellowstone. A change of scenery,” Todd explained. He licked the chocolate off his fingers.
“You’ve got a ways to go,” said Bertha Sue. “I hope you’ll like it here. My husband and I used to run it together. I came home from the grocery one morning and Earl was still in bed. He never woke up. Died right there in his sleep. I suppose I should have checked before I left.” She cackled with laughter before coughing into her sleeve.
After check-in Bertha Sue took out two keys from a small wooden cabinet that was nailed against the wall. She held them out to us.
“How nice of a brother and sister to be traveling together.” Her face crinkled into a smile. I looked at Todd and nudged his shoulder. I guess we looked alike enough to be siblings. Todd also had brown eyes and his hair was slightly darker than mine.
“Bertha Sue, we’re not brother and sister,” Todd said.
“Oh!”
“So…we only need one bedroom.”
“Oh.”
Bertha Sue’s body didn’t budge but her bulbous eyes darted to my and Todd’s naked fingers.
“I can’t do that,” she said, shaking her head.
“What?” I said.
“Well call me old-fashioned but I usually don’t cater to this.” Bertha Sue didn’t sound like a sweet old lady interested in our road trip anymore.
I cursed under my breath.
“The Lord will not let me sleep with that on my conscience,” said Bertha Sue.
“What’s the Lord gonna –Todd and I will go somewhere else.”
“Wait,” Todd said.
“Why should we be in separate rooms? Let’s just go.” I started to make my way toward the suitcases but Todd grabbed my arm. I leaned into him.
“If we’re not going to be welcomed, then we shouldn’t have to stay here,” I whispered.
“C’mon, what’s your deal? It’ll be one night at the B & B. Just one night.”
“Don’t –”
“Don’t separate us,” he said, turning back toward Bertha Sue, “We need a break from motels.”
I glared at him and opened my mouth to speak but snapped it back shut. Bertha Sue tightened her mouth into wrinkly corners and appeared to be in deep thought. She turned to the wooden cabinet; back went in the two keys and she retrieved a new key.
“Alright,” she said, handing Todd the key. “But it’s only because I like you. Thanks for not calling it a motel.” Todd’s face warmed to a delicate shade of pink.
“This one has two beds,” Bertha Sue explained, “But you can best bet that I’ll be expecting you for breakfast. Nine o’clock sharp. I’ll come get you even if you’re still in your drawers. Got it?” She kept a straight face and didn’t blink as she stared at us.
“Y-yes ma’am,” said Todd.
Bertha Sue looked at her wristwatch and proclaimed that she had to take the rest of her daily pills. She left us to go to our room.
As I headed for the hallway Bertha Sue said, “He’s a good-looking boy just like Earl was. He cares about you, I can tell.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled. I watched her inch down the opposite direction. I wanted to say something else, but I walked on.
The bed and breakfast was like one of those old houses that are featured on those home and garden shows that my mom obsesses over, with original wood flooring, winding staircases, wide balconies with breathtaking views (our balcony’s view, however, offered miles of cornfields and some trees) and those old coiling radiators. Our bedroom was on the second floor. Each wall was covered with Kinkade paintings and framed Proverbs verses. The beds were queen-sized and complete with quilts. There were at least four pillows and crisp, white towels rested at the foot of each bed. Bibles, like the Gideon ones in hotels, were on the two nightstands.
I tossed my suitcase on one of the beds and sat.
“Who does she think she is, telling complete strangers they can’t be in the same room?”
“She must be super religious.” Todd yawned.
Not long after he turned off the lamps I got up from my bed and slid under the covers in Todd’s.
“What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.” I thought of the old woman hobbling to her room to take medicine.
“Don’t forget breakfast is at nine.” Todd wrapped his arm around my body and kissed me goodnight. I was on my back, trying to fall asleep. I was mad at Bertha Sue, but my mind wandered to her dead husband, how she could barely keep up the place by herself. I thought about the future, our future, if Todd and I made it that far. It was the future that crept up into my mind after graduation, and since that day my thoughts ran wild. I imagined us thirty, forty years later lying in a worn bed frame, where each night could be our last. I wondered what it was like to go to bed alone. I glanced at Todd to make sure he was still breathing.
“Todd, do you think she gets lonely?”
I received a chorus of snores in response. I turned over and shoved the quilt over my ears, hoping to block the noise.
I heard a door creak. I couldn’t tell if it was ours – I didn’t want to look, but fear swelled in my heart, which beat against my ribcage. The feeling pulsed through my body, sending those needle-thin pangs and chills. I pressed close to Todd, who was undisturbed. I looked toward the doorway. If it was Bertha Sue I couldn’t hear her footsteps.
I poked Todd’s side. “Todd,” I whispered in his ear. “I think someone’s trying to come in here.”
Todd’s voice was groggy and loud. “What?”
“Shh! Someone’s trying to come in here.”
“No they’re not. Bertha Sue’s probably got a dog or something.”
There were more creaks. This time they were coming from weight making contact with the wooden floor.
“It’s not a dog,” I said.
“Just relax, baby,” Todd mumbled. He drifted back to sleep.
I imagined us being caught in a cheesy horror movie. If it was her, Bertha Sue would come in with the weapon of her choice – the classic ax, maybe a handgun, or another batch of cookies. Maybe she was fake, as well as the house. Maybe I just needed to travel to my dreams and hope clear answers would come soon.
“I hope she comes after you first,” I said. Todd continued to snore.
We were in the dining room for breakfast two minutes before nine. Two other couples traveling together were already having a conversation at the wooden table. The retired group of friends was pushing the same age as Bertha Sue appeared. Phil and Judy were high school sweethearts that married a billion years ago and had five kids and an army of grandchildren. Ben and Margaret met after Margaret’s first husband cheated on her – something about a hot tub and the single next door neighbor that owned a blind dog.
Bertha Sue arrived in the dining room promptly at nine. Her long dress flowed behind her as she greeted the table. One huge eyeball winked at Todd and me. She carried in plates of French toast with fruit salad, eggs, coffee and juice. Ben and Margaret offered to help, but Bertha Sue shook them off, and we watched her take multiple trips, shuffling to and from the kitchen. She sat at the head of the table and asked Phil to say grace. He was a tall man with broad shoulders; I imagined Mr. Clean twenty years in the future. His low, booming voice was just as intimidating. It echoed in the room as he thanked God for Bertha Sue’s sacred cooking and coffee brewing skills. His monstrous hand clasped mine and squeezed it so hard when he said “Amen” I thought it would crumble into my mug.
“Are you two from the area?” Judy said. Her huge teeth protruded from her wide grin.
“We’re on a road trip,” said Todd.
“You must be exhausted,” she said. “I hope we didn’t disturb you last night. After a long day golfing, we couldn’t resist eating dinner outside. The weather was too gorgeous to pass it up.”
Phil’s huge arm nudged me. “What Judy means is that we’re a bunch of party animals,” he said. The group of friends laughed. It was the kind of laughter indicating that this was something that had been said before.
“One time Maggie and I were headed to Yellowstone, and you wouldn’t believe it. This buffalo was at the side of the road, right next to the road! She got a picture of it,” Ben said.
Margaret, a plump woman with sun spots all over her arms and face, pulled out her purse and opened a small photo album. She showed me the prized possession, a lone buffalo standing close to the highway, his beady eyes nearly disappearing into his hair as he stared absentmindedly into Margaret’s camera lens. “He was so close! At least it wasn’t a bear. I would’ve driven away and left Ben to fend for himself!”
“You’re lucky it didn’t come after you,” Ben said. “They kill more people than bears do.”
Instead of looking at the buffalo, I looked behind the massive beast and saw that he stood in an open plain with what looked like mountains, dark, jagged lumps that looked forever away. Too far to touch.
“You’ll like it out there. It’s good to travel at your age,” Margaret said, putting the album away.
“What are you guys doing here?” Todd said.
“Every month we like to go golfing together,” said Ben. “This time we wanted to go to a different course. So we found one close to here and luckily, discovered this wonderful place. Everything is delicious.”
“I do what I can,” Bertha Sue said. She wore a broad grin, looking proud to have satiated Ben’s appetite.
“Is there anything to do here other than golf?” Todd said.
I kicked his foot under the table. Get me out of here.
Bertha leaned back in her chair and held that look of deep thought. She scratched her head and mumbled something about little shops along the town square and a park.
“And of course, there’s always church tomorrow morning, if you’ll still be here,” she said.
“We’re leaving today but thanks for the offer,” I said before Todd could open his mouth.
Bertha Sue coughed. “Just let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll fix up your beds.” She began to clear the table.
As I rose from my chair, she said, “You’ll figure it out.”
In the bedroom we finished packing. Todd’s back faced me the whole time. I reached out to hug him and he turned away from me. I sat on the bed and asked, “What’s the plan?”
“Keep driving. I guess we don’t have time to go exploring here.”
“It’s Illinois. We’ll have time in a place without cornfields.”
Of course he didn’t have a plan for this one. Neither of us did.
“Can’t we just leave and keep going?” I said. “I want to get out of here.”
“You’re not having fun,” Todd said.
“I was until now.”
“The whole point of a road trip isn’t the driving.”
“But can we not stop in the middle of nowhere?”
“You don’t like her.”
That wasn’t what Todd was really getting at. We both knew.
“It’s not because of the church thing. Our business isn’t her business, that’s all. You don’t get it,” I said.
I finished packing.
“I’m scared,” I said. I grabbed his hand when he sat next to me. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be,” said Todd. Part of me wanted to believe him. The other part had no answer.
In the beginning I didn’t see real life coming. College’s protective life shadowed what lurked in the future. It made me think that I had years to come up with that fool-proof plan that relatives and acquaintances want to know each time they corner you at a party. They especially love doing that to people who didn’t get a degree that will make money – like me. But the four years flew by before I had a chance to speak, and now I was stuck. I had no job waiting for me and most of my money went toward the trip. Poor Todd. He was too optimistic.
We brought our suitcases downstairs and found Bertha Sue in the living room. She had fallen asleep reading. Todd inched his way toward Bertha Sue to wake her up. He shook her arm. No response. He shook it again.
“She’s not moving,” he said. My stomach lurched. The couples had left for the golf course after breakfast. We were alone.
“Old people just sleep harder. Try again.”
Todd shook her and called her name. Nothing.
“I think she’s dead.”
I watched for her chest to rise and fall, but Bertha Sue looked so relaxed, like an old woman at a nursing home who fell asleep playing Bingo. Any minute she would wake up and realize that she missed her chance of winning the grand prize. But she didn’t budge. Her pruned hands, which hours before had served me French toast, grasped the Bible, her face etched into her eternal look of wrinkles relaxing on the once taut skin. Her delicate eyelashes closed over the blue eyes that were now forever hidden. One minute she chastised us for sleeping in the same room, the next I stood over her dead body.
I wasn’t used to the whole dead people thing. I went to funerals for random relatives when I was little, but I didn’t remember bawling my eyes out or gazing into their closed faces, wishing they would wake up one last time. The sight of Bertha Sue’s dead body pulled my harbored emotions out like a tooth extraction. I grieved over the passing of an old woman I barely knew. Todd patted me on the back.
“I’m sure she had a good life. She does look pretty old,” he said.
Before the paramedics arrived I held Bertha Sue’s still hand.
“I need to know what to do,” I said. A tear fell on her hand. If there was ever a time I prayed, it was then, and it wasn’t even to God.
For weeks we traveled west, taking in the new sights and arriving in Yellowstone. Every night I thought about Bertha Sue and how she didn’t notice that her husband died in his sleep next to her. She died in her sleep, too, but there was no warm body next to her that morning.
In Yellowstone I found a buffalo standing by itself in the wild grass. I inched toward it until the hair on my arms rose. Nothing fazed him. He bent his bearded head and stared at the golden flowers. I held my breath as I used the lens to zoom in on the creature, remembering Ben’s warning. All I could hear was the camera’s click. The photo was nearly a copy of Margaret’s. The jagged mountains especially added a familiarity to the pixilated image. I wondered if I was in the same area as Margaret had been.
My camera almost lost its battery life as I swallowed up images of mountains and open plains for miles. I thought about the future, so full in theory, but so empty from fear and deaf ears.
We held hands as we walked the trails. Todd’s hand was close, warm, safe.
“You hear that?” I said. “Peace.”
I stopped another tourist and asked him to take a photo of Todd and me. The buffalo was in the background.
That was the best part of the trip. And that night Todd didn’t fall asleep on me. Later my eyes were still open, glued to the ceiling. The thought was still there, even though it lurked in a miniscule crevice. There was certainty until it went blank.
We drove back home the way we came, and when we got to Illinois we found Sweet Dreams. This time the purple and yellow houses held a fresh coat of pale green paint. The vines were removed from the siding and the overgrown garden was now cut grass that surrounded the property. Bertha Sue would’ve been proud at the new look. I could almost smell the warm chocolate chip cookies.
At least she didn’t die alone, even if it wasn’t perfect.
Todd stopped the car in front of the bed and breakfast. We stared at the place, wondering if we should stop in and say hello to the new owner and tell them that we had stayed the night before Bertha Sue died. He held my hand and looked at me, ready to listen. For a long time we sat in the car. My other hand lingered over the atlas, thinking without planning. You’ll figure it out. I grabbed the camera and opened the door.
