In the morning, when we're at home, Honey fetches the paper. For this, she earns a chicken jerky strip. It's part of her routine, and I don't think she feels quite right until she's done it. Or maybe I don't. Either way, when we're at the hotel, and we head out into the hallway on our way for the morning pee and poo, there are USA Todays at every door. And Honey experiences a brief moment of euphoria. So many papers! So many chicken jerky strips! This is what heaven must be like! When we walk by a room, she will take a paper in her mouth, and look at me like "This one? Do you want this one, Daddy?"

We always use the exit at the back stairwell. Mostly I do this to avoid talking to anybody at the front desk. Like Gary, and his ridiculous beard.

But today he's standing there. Gary. Just outside the door. And he's smoking. When did he start that?

He says, "Hi, Mike." I cringe. I don't really want to be on a first-name basis with this guy. I can't really explain what it is. But something about him doesn't set right with me. He always seems suspicious of me. Like he thinks I might have stolen his wallet.

He says. "You always come here, don't you?"

I'm not sure if he means "here" as in this stairwell exit. Or "here," as in this hotel. I think he means the hotel, but either way, it's true. So I say: "Yes."

"Why?"

I say: "To write. Mostly." I light my cigarette. Honey sniffs Gary's leg. She doesn't wag her tail. Then she pees in the snow. I unhook the leash from her collar and let her run off into the bushes to shit.

"Right, right."

I nod. We smoke for a while and say nothing. Honey sniffs some bushes looking for a good spot to drop a load.

Eventually he asks the thing that comes next: "What are you writing?"

Normally I answer this question by not really answering at all. It's something I've kind of perfected. I say: "It's sort of a murder thing...only in reverse."

The truth is I don't know how else to describe it and this seems to be the most plausible. When you say "murder thing" it alludes to a plot, which people like. I could add some details, like: It's set in the mountains. The narrator is a woman. She's escaping something. But these really aren't any more illuminating. Even to me.

The thing is, even when it's right in front of you, sometimes it's not entirely clear what it is you're dealing with. People surprise you. Characters surprise you. And fetching papers doesn't always bring the results you want.

There is more silence, then Gary says: "Huh. Right, right." He says this even though he can't possible know what the fuck I'm talking about.

Then he says: "Seems like Monica spends a lot of time cleaning your room."

I have to look at him to make sure he actually spoke and that I hadn't just imagined it. He's looking back at me. I think he's smiling, but it's hard to tell with that beard. I don't say anything. God, the air is bitter cold this morning. I look for Honey in the bushes and see that she's pooping. She always brings one hind leg up by her head when she poops, and puts her ears back flat against her head. Sometimes she does a little poop dance, shifting her weight from one hind leg to the other. It's not very lady-like. But pooping never is. I don't care who you are.

Gary exhales a large plume of smoke. Probably most of it is just humid air, but it looks like smoke. Then he says: "She and I used to be together, you know."

I try not to act surprised. Or repulsed. Which I am. Both. I say: "Really?"

He nods. His silence suggests something. I'm hoping it's not what I think it is.

I change the subject: "Didn't know you smoked, Gary."

"I don't. Used to. Thinking I'll probably start again, though."

Fuck me. If Gary's going to start smoking here, I'm going to need to find a new spot. Or a different hotel altogether.

Category: InBetween