Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

“Rosalie’s...

“Not what. Where. To R...

“Going to fix that leak.”

Every time there’s a drip of water, I hear a noise. Plunk plunk plunk. Good thing he’s getting that fixed. It’s going to destroy the ceiling.

It’s a Corolla. Quinn’s car.

And you can see through the window of room 203.

The police were here looking for her, and Nick lied to them. For her. That was nice of him. It was. But Rosalie did not like it. Rosalie. I’ve got to talk to her.

I’m not. I’m very much alive. And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.

“Ooh, I want to get my fortune told!”

“This is The Tower,” she says. “It means you will have a life altering revelation. One that will leave you blindsided.”

“Rosalie,” she hisses. “You must not marry that man.”

“What?” I try to yank my hand away, but she’s holding on tight. “What are you talking about?”

“Please.” Her black eyes lock with mine. “You must listen to me. You think this man will bring you happiness, but he won’t. H...

“Death?” I repeat. “You mean… he’s g...

“No,” she says firmly. “He will not die. He will bring the death of another.”

“You mean…” My head is spinning. “He’s going to kill someone?”

The tower card. The life-altering revelation. Multiple sclerosis. The end of life as I know it.

“Yes, I…” I force a smile onto my lips, which feel very stiff, like rubber. “I thought I might do some birdwatching. It would help pass the time.”

“Please, Greta.” I drop my nearly full plate on top of the dresser. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. It would make me feel better about everything.”

The binoculars are a huge mistake.

It’s a full moon tonight—a perfect circle, marred only by the dark smudges that almost look like a man’s face. There’s something soothing about looking up at that bright white spot in the sky.

And then some movement in one of the windows at the motel catches my eye.

What is my husband doing in this woman’s room? I watch them through the binoculars, my heart pounding. They’re just talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking, is there? I mean, yes, they’re standing very close to each other. And now she’s got her hand on his shoulder. But that’s okay. They’re just talking, for God’s sake. Nick isn’t a cheater. He’s a good guy. I watch his expression through the lenses. He’s smiling at her. He looks happy in a way I haven’t seen him look in a long time. And then he leans forward and kisses her. My heart sinks into my stomach as I watch my husband kiss another woman. And he’s not just kissing her. They’re making out. This isn’t the first time, either. You can just tell. I drop the binoculars on my lap like they’re burning. I take a deep breath, my hands trembling. That bastard. That absolute bastard. He’s going to be sorry for this. I fumble for the binoculars again. I look through Christina’s window, but they’re gone. At least, they’re out of my line of sight. Which means they’re probably on the bed. I’m going to kill him.

“Get out,” I say.

He freezes. “What?”

“You heard me.” I look him dead in the eyes. “We’re done...

“Rosie…” His eyes dart around the room. “What’s wrong? Wh...

“Are you serious?” I spit at him. “Are you really going to pretend like you’re not fuck...

His mouth falls open and all the color drains out of...

“I saw you through the window, you asshole.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Get out. I never want to see you again. Go spe...

“Rosie.” He sits beside me on the bed and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Please don’t do this. I love you. I made a huge mistake. Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry. My mind is made up.”

“But…” He looks down at my legs on the footrests of my chair....

“I’ll figure it out. It’s not your pro...

Ultimately, I’m just too tired to go through with it. I’m literally too tired to kill myself.

We make love for the first time in almost a year. I fall asleep curled up in Nick’s arms.

I sit up in bed, propping myself up against the pillows, trying to get a better look. And that’s when I see some movement along the back of the motel. Near the dumpster. It’s Nick. What’s he doing over there? I focus in the best I can on his face. He’s not smiling. He dumps a black trash bag in the dumpster, then he wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He takes a step back, staring at the dumpster. He wipes his hands on his jeans, then starts back to our house. What the hell was he doing there at three in the morning?

The first thing he does is go to the bathroom. He washes his hands for at least two minutes. There’s a rule that you’re supposed to sing the happy birthday song to know how long to wash, but he washes far longer than that. He finally comes out of the bathroom, strips off his jeans and T-shirt, and quietly slips onto the mattress beside me, trying hard not to wake me. Too bad I’m already wide awake.

“Nick?”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you w...

“Where did you go?”

“I just…” He shifts on the mattress next to me. “I needed some fresh air.”

And whatever he put in that dumpster at three in the morning is now gone. He made sure of that.

But no. Her Nissan is still in the parking lot. There’s nowhere she could have gone on foot. Christina is still in the motel. So why is her room dark?

“Did you ask Christina to leave?” I interrupt him. It’s all I can think about.

“I’m sorry.” Splatters of red appear on his neck. “No, I didn’t. I tried to tell her but every time I knocked on her door, she didn’t answer.”

“I see…” I tug at the sleeve of my shirt. “And she’s definitely ...

“Well, yeah. I mean, her car is s...

He sits on the bed, close to me. He reaches for my hand, and I allow him to squeeze it in his own. “You believe me, right, Rosie?”

The next morning, I’m in my eternal perch by the window when the police cars arrive in the motel parking lot. Not just one police car. Police cars. Plural. And not just that, but there’s also an ambulance.