Afterward, she started tackling the dust in the main area, which made everyone feel like they’d been transported to the stampede grounds after the horses and cattle had kicked up the dirt. Windows and doors had to be propped open. But the fresh air didn’t curb Raven’s incessant sneezing.
“Sorry,” she shouted into the cabin when a particular loud sneeze drew attention. “I promise I’m not sick. It’s the dust.”
For her troubles, however, the cabin was left with a gleam Silas had not been aware was possible.
The following day at lunch, Raven entered the break room sporting scraped elbows and wet jeans. She’d been cleaning the shuttle and had only narrowly won a battle with a tangled water hose.
It was on this day, while Raven was applying Neosporin to her wounds, that Halo sidled up to Silas as he microwaved his food and whispered, “I think I might owe you a drink at the end of the week.”
Silas didn’t dare hope, but if his plan to keep Raven occupied drove her out of town, he’d fucking take it.
When the last workday rolled around, Raven didn’t look like the person Silas had met at the beginning of the week. Gone were the heels, the styled hair, and any attempts at superfluous conversation. She now sported a number of mosquito bites and sighed between sips of her coffee in the morning like she was trying to muster up energy for the work ahead.
Silas squashed any sympathy that arose for her. This would literally be her life as an owner. If she was unable to handle it, the exit was clearly labeled.
* * *
“You’re almost there,” Gwen told Raven over video call. “A little to your left.”
“I swear I’m going to dislocate my shoulder,” Raven said. She was in her motel room, straining to apply ointment to a bite on her back. But it was all worth it when the medicine made contact and relieved the itch.
She didn’t know what she’d thought owning a business would feel or look like, but it wasn’t this. In addition to the bite on her back, there were her mosquito-bitten arms, annihilated nails, a mysterious rash on her collarbone, and a scraped knee beginning to scab.
In contrast, her friend lounged on her living room couch with a bowl of cherries in her lap, her deep skin tone beautifully darkened from a day spent in the sun.
“Besides sustaining injuries, how are things?” Gwen asked as Raven climbed onto her bed to relieve her sore quads.
“Fine, maybe? I don’t know. I start every morning by cleaning the front reception of the motel,” Raven said. “Then I go to Mountaintop to do tasks that somehow require the competency of a juggling, unicycle-riding rocket scientist. There’s no Starbucks in sight, and their Timmies never has what I want, so I haven’t had good coffee in a week. And for as small as Cedar Lake is, I should’ve seen a little bit more of the town by now. But all I do is work and come back to this room to recover from the day.”
“Raven,” Gwen began gently, “I say this with all the love. Maybe this tourist company thing isn’t for you. Like I’ve never heard you complain this much.”
Raven shook her head at first, mostly on instinct. She was used to fighting for a lot of things—respect, relationships, money. This had to be growing pains.
“I like some things about this place too,” Raven said. “It looks like aNational Geographiccover with all the trees and mountains. I’ve met some nice people. There’s Linda, Bodie, and even Doc—and side note, I found out yesterday that’s his nickname because he used to wear knock-off Doc Martens as a teen. And—”
“Okay, I love the quaint small-town trivia, but girl, you’re miserable.”
Raven shut her eyes as if that might shield her from the truth. “I thought I was stronger. I’ve worked retail during the holiday season, for God’s sake.”
“Come back. Come back to me, Raven,” Gwen said in a haunting timbre of a ghost or a sage witch.
“I think the first thing I’d do is get a massage,” Raven said, leaning back on her headboard.
“Yes! And I’d meet you there with a grande caramel macchiato with oat milk and extra foam.”
“Oh, then we’d go to the flea market,” Raven said.
It was her idea of a perfect weekend day, and visualizing it had her feeling happier than she had in several days.
“You know what, you’re right. Fuck this place,” Raven said as she got up and retrieved the bill of sale that had made a home under her makeup bag all week. “I’m not quitting. I’m just letting go of what no longer serves me.”
As she searched the room for a pen, she continued spouting her spontaneous manifesto, speaking about peace of mind and not having to prove anything to anybody. When she returned to the bed, it was in time to see her friend’s boyfriend enter the apartment in the background of the video call.
“Your man’s home,” Raven said, watching Anthony approach the couch to hug Gwen from behind. The camera on her friend’s end canted to a weird angle.
“Hey, hey. Still here,” Raven said, snapping her fingers when the murmurings and kisses went on too long. The camera straightened to focus on her friend’s face once again. Her eyes were glassy, and her lipstick had shifted.
“All right, I’m back,” Gwen said with a dopey smile.
