Read Motel. Pool. for Free Online Page B

Baxter.
    When they got out on the walkway, he could see the pool below, lit up and sparkling like a jewel. It wasn’t California blue, but it would have to do.
    He started to climb over the railing, but Doris tugged him back; he fell, landing hard on his ass. It should have hurt, but right now nothing hurt. Nothing and everything, and the world was all cotton wool and jagged glass. “I was going to dive,” he said when she helped him to his feet.
    “C’mon, Jacky.”
    With Doris’s help, he made it to the end of the walkway. There were stairs, which scared him. They reminded him of going down into the basement when the tornado siren went off, and he hated the basement because it was full of spiders and broken bits of things and there was a scummy green drain in the middle that might— might —be hiding something beneath. Something that caught at the ankles of little boys and dragged them down down down and they couldn’t breathe anymore and their family forgot they ever existed.
    “What’s the matter, Jacky?”
    He collapsed heavily onto the cement at the bottom of the stairwell and tried to keep the whimpers from escaping his mouth. “Doris,” he whispered.
    She gave him more pills. One or two or three or four. Couldn’t count and didn’t count, spinning around and whirling like a top. Didn’t make the pain go away. Didn’t make everything all better. “Bad medicine,” he said.
    “Let’s get in my car, baby. You can lie down in the back and sleep and I’ll do the driving. I’ll take you back to Iowa—”
    “Nebraska.”
    “I’ll take you back to Nebraska and your family will be happy to see you again. You can get some rest. Make the big decisions later.”
    “Won’t go.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Going to swim to LA.”
    He had to lean against the wall to stand up, and even then everything spun. But he knew where he was going—to the water that glimmered like false promises, and the water was a lie too, appearing blue only because the plaster was tinted. Doris took his arm, either to stop him or guide him, but he pulled away. Didn’t need her. He was on his own.
    He made it to the very edge. But he couldn’t bring himself to face the water, so instead he stood with his heels hanging over the pool’s lip. When he looked up, he could see right through the glare of the motel lights into the heavens, and the sky was a deep pool too. Deep and dark, with tiny stars floating at the surface.
    “The stars like to swim,” he told Doris. “It’s what stars do.”
    “Jacky….” She reached out for him.
    Her fingertips touched his arm. The touch of an angel. He fell backward and he hit the water with a splash that was too loud for him to hear whether she screamed.
    The water closed over him and he was so heavy. Not immune to gravity. A tiny chunk of dying star caught in the heavy grip of the earth and falling down, falling down.

Five

     
    2014
     
    “H OW MUCH have you had to drink tonight, sir?”
    Tag Manning blinked blearily as the cop directed the flashlight at his face. “None. Nothing. I haven’t touched alcohol in days.” That was true. His last beers had been—when? Six states ago. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
    “Drugs?” asked the officer.
    Tag pointed at the cup holder. “Just caffeine.”
    The cop was silent as he directed the beam of light around the car’s interior. He illuminated the front seat detritus of a road trip: fast-food wrappers, empty cups and water bottles, badly refolded maps. The backseat was crammed with all the bags and boxes Tag hadn’t been able to jam into the trunk.
    After a few moments, the flashlight focused on Tag’s license, registration, and insurance card, which the officer held in one hand. He read them carefully, as if they gave him important instructions on how to proceed, but Tag was pretty sure the guy’s shoulders had relaxed a little.
    “Where are you heading, Mr. Manning?”
    “Grand Canyon. Always wanted to see it,