Friday.
I put one foot in front of the other, like I had done my whole life and continued to move forward. I could hear the angry chatter behind me on the dock but I didn’t look back, instead I tuned in on the sound of my shoes. They were making a cartoon-like squelching noises every time they touched the ground, and I could feel the water moving around inside them. It was hot as hell and the thought of it made me thirsty. I looked for a bar.
I found one not far from the pier, ordered a whiskey, neat, and two beers. I chugged the first beer, sunk the shot and then sipped on the second. I pulled my shoes off one by one and tipped the water out. I left them on the ground to dry in the sun. No more than 30 seconds later, a woman’s dog stopped by my chair to lick up the puddle I’d just made. It didn’t bother me, but when it started to lick my feet, I kicked it in the face to make it stop. The woman got angry and called me a bunch of names, but I didn’t care. I sat back and enjoyed my beer, wondering what the hell there was to do around here.
My chest started to vibrate, so I fumbled through my jacket to find the source of the irritation. As I pulled my phone out from the inside pocket, the screen read, ‘Jackie’, I pressed the red button and her name was replaced with the message, ‘23 missed calls’. I’d half hoped it had been broken or lost on the boat, that would have saved me a lot of trouble I thought as I slammed it down on the table and continued fumbling for cigarettes. I was irritated now. I found the packet and pulled a cigarette out with my lips, it clung to my upper lip as I searched for the pack of matches. I gave up, slumped in my chair and that’s when she caught my eye.
The waitress. The one who’d brought my drinks was leaning against the wall of the alley next to the bar, she was taking a drag on her cigarette, eyes locked on me. I put my fingers around mine and held it up towards her like a question. She started walking towards me, the top of her breasts bouncing out of her shirt with every step. I liked that. I put the cigarette back in my mouth and pushed it around with my tongue- if I kept it busy, I’d be less likely to shove it in her mouth. That’s what I was thinking of when she reached my table, then without a word, she leaned over it, put her cigarette back in her mouth and touched the tip of it with mine. After a couple of seconds of sucking on it, she flicked her eyes up towards mine. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it was working.
As I watched her ass walk away and disappear into the bar, I sunk back into reality- with tighter trousers. My jacket was soaked, it weighed on me, so I took it off and hung it over my chair. I took a long drag on my cigarette and looked out to sea. A sudden flow of angry pulses cut through my thoughts. I looked at my phone, ‘Sophia’. I let it ring off before returning it to the table. I glanced towards the bar, and caught the eye of the waitress again, she smiled at me, so I smirked back. It was only a matter of time now.
I was on my fourth beer when I found the matches, so I lit up another cigarette. I stared at the waitress, making sure she could feel my gaze. I could see her nipples through her shirt, and it was driving me crazy. My phone vibrated again, but I didn’t bother to look. Then the waitress was at my table, she slid over the bill that I’d asked for, and when I opened it up there was a note saying ‘call me’, and then her phone number. I scribbled underneath it, ‘meet me in the alley, 2 minutes,’ put my money on top of it, and slid it to the end of the table with my eyes locked on hers.
I watched her take it behind the bar, count it and put it in the register before reading the note and disappearing out the back. I took a drag on my cigarette and smiled to myself, before downing the rest of my pint and standing up. I put my belongings in my jacket pocket before slipping it back on. I left my shoes. I walked over to the alley and stood in the opening. There she was, waiting. I took a final drag of my cigarette and threw the butt to the floor. Then I walked towards her.
“It’s none of your business where my fucking shoes are. Have you got a room or not?” I was starting to lose my patience; this was the third motel I’d tried that wouldn’t let me pay after my stay. Of course, I had no intention of paying, but they didn’t know that. I’d never had this problem before, I thought it must be the town, or maybe the missing shoes. I sunk down in an alleyway and lit a cigarette; it was nice to get out of the cold breeze. It was dark now, so the summer heat had gone, and I was cold from being wet for so long. I could smell the sea, I didn’t know if it was coming from the air or me. I thought about where the hell I would get shoes from in the middle of the night and as I took another drag, I spotted a pair. They were attached to some legs that were sticking out of a thick blanket next to a bin in the heart of the darkened passage.
I slowly and quietly walked up to the blanket and gently lifted my foot up to one of the shoes, it was pretty much a straight fit. I took another drag as I contemplated whether or not to rob a homeless man. I decided I would. I had no choice. I needed them more than he did. I threw the cigarette butt to the ground, then gently pulled his shoes off, one by one. He didn’t flinch. I sat down next to him and put the shoes on. I pulled a napkin out of my jacket pocket, it was still a little soggy but I managed to scribbled out the phone number, and write ’SORRY’ in capital letters underneath it. I carefully tucked it into his sock, then he started to stir, so I ran.
I walked along the seafront, noticing that I was soon going to run out of land. My phone buzzed in my pocket, I pulled it out and read the screen, ‘DON’T ANSWER!’.
“Fuck off!” I screamed at it before throwing it at the wall, I stomped on it hard and fast in a rage, then I got tired and stopped. I picked up the pieces and threw them into the ocean. I carried on walking, feeling lighter. Then finally I came across another motel sign:
Eye of the Storm.
Underneath the words was a picture of a witchy looking eye with strange symbols and lines through it. It creeped me out, looked like some kind of voodoo shit, but I’d run out of options. It was a dusty looking building, stretched out with more doors than windows- which was strange as it had an ocean view. There was only one set of stairs leading up to the row of rooms, and it seemed to lead to nowhere, coz it was so far from the office or any of the other doors. With no other option, I climbed up them and was met by a brick wall, ’weird fucking place’, I thought as I set off around the walkway. I headed towards the glass room at the end with the big neon ‘office’ sign above it. As I passed the rooms, I noticed they were all named after people; I passed Vince, Rita, Mary or something like that, and a name beginning with P that I’d never heard of. I wondered who they were. I doubted they were famous people because there were no surnames, probably the owners’ relatives or something- again, fucking weird.
I reached the office and it was empty.
“Hello?!” I called, but no one answered.
I looked around. The whole room was basically a glass box, the ceiling and 3 of the walls were made of glass, it was only the fourth wall- where the reception desk and a door was that wasn’t- they were made out of wood. And the floor, the floor was made of wood too. Strangely, none of the glass was see-through. It had been covered by blue paint, not neatly though, it looked like it had been thrown all over in a hurry. It was clear to see where each can had run out because there was a different shade of blue splatter. The paint made the room dark, and the only light was coming from a standing lamp in the corner by the desk and a few pointless candles spread about the place. The unidentified door was covered in pictures of eyes, whoever owned the place was taking the name a little too seriously. The only nice-looking thing in the place was the desk, it was made of raw cut driftwood, if I ever had a place of my own someday, I’d have a dining room table just like it.
I was about to help myself to a key when a scraggly looking woman walked in with ear muffs on, and a pair of binoculars around her neck.
“Sorry, I was up on the roof, it takes me a while to climb down these days. Welcome to The Eye of the Storm.” she said, with an accent I couldn’t place.
“taking the name a little too far, don’t ya think?” I said, nodding over to the door of eyes.
“Not at all.” the woman said, “The eyes are a symbol of light, of truth, of vigilance. They are a gateway for many things. The eye of a storm is its core, it’s centre, the heart of it. It’s the calm within.”
I thought about the waitress- how her ass felt in my hands,while she rattled on about eyes.
“.. don’t you agree?” she said, waiting for a reply.
I quickly nodded. “I’d like..”
“.. a room!” she finished.
I nodded again, a little irritated by her interruption.
She must have noticed because she apologised, “Sorry. Sometimes I know things. Kinda like a sense or a feeling, I’ll know what someone’s going to say, or I’ll know something that’s going to happen, or has happened. I didn’t mean to be rude; I can’t help myself sometimes.”
I smiled to humor her; she was clearly bonkers.
She held out a key to me with no talk of payment, so I tried to get out of there before it came up. As I took the key, she grabbed my hand, looked straight into my eyes and said,
“where are YOUR shoes?”
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand, “Goodnight, ma’am!” I smiled as I snatched my hand back and left the glass room.
I reached room 8. The wooden plaque on the door read:
Ophelia.
Sept 5th- Sept 23rd, 2005
I put my key in the lock, turned it, and pushed. Nothing happened, the damn door was stuck. The last thing I wanted to have to do was go talk to that woman again, so I threw my shoulder into it, it opened a crack, so I carried on shoving myself against the door until it burst open. At the same moment, my shoes filled with sand. It came from the room- probably what was jamming the door. I shook my feet and felt for a light switch, there wasn’t one. I stepped inside leaving the door open so the light from the board-walk flooded in. The floor was uneven and crunched under my feet, I already knew what it was, but I lit a match to confirm, of course, it was sand. The entire floor was covered in it, normally I’d think it had blown in from a storm, but something about that woman made me think this was deliberate. I spotted candles on the bedside tables, so I lit them. Unsurprisingly the walls were blue, but unlike the glass walls, there was one that had a huge grey and white swirl in the middle of it. It wasn’t until I read the framed newspaper clippings above the bed that I realised the swirl was Ophelia.
Ophelia was a hurricane that hit Florida and North Carolina in 2005, hence the weird dates under the name of the room. I sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands for a moment. Then I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket for my hip flask, I unscrewed the cap and put it up to my lips. It was empty.
“FUCK!”
I declared to the air before slamming my flask at the wall, I could be screwing the waitress right now, or the chick that wrote her number on the napkin, I could be sleeping in their bed tonight in a normal room with a normal floor, instead of this fucking dumb. I slammed myself back onto the bed and took a couple of deep breaths- I was probably drunk enough anyway I told myself as I lit up a cigarette using one of the candles. I then started to pour the sand out of my shoes. When that was done, I contemplated what the hell I was going to do with no booze and no woman to keep me busy. I laid back on the bed and finished my cigarette.
With nothing else to do except stare at Ophelia, it wasn’t long before my hand was down my trousers. My door was still open, but I didn’t care. You see, something happens to me when I’m all fired up, as soon as something sets me off, it’s like someone’s flipped a switch and it doesn’t matter where I am or who I’m with- if I don’t fuck something, I’ll go mad. That’s half the reason I can’t keep a woman, coz sometimes its someone else who flips the switch. I stared at the swirl on the wall, Ophelia, and I imagined she was a woman. A woman with big lips and grey eyes, who had nobody because it was stuck in the wall. It was windy wherever she was, and her white hair was swirling around her. Her eyes begged me, so I walked up to her and I put myself inside her mouth. Her tongue felt rough like sandpaper and cold, but I didn’t mind. She looked up at me the whole time with those big grey eyes, it drove me crazy. When I was about to cum, I pulled out and did it on her face.
When I came too, I was standing in front of the wall with my dick in my hand and there was cum all over the wall. I didn’t bother to clean it up. I put my dick back in my pants and closed the door.
