Gabby was there. Jean looked right at her and said, “Marisol, the baby’s beautiful.” Then she closed her eyes.
I’m all right. I’m sad. But I’m all right.
Gabby and I have been talking about something. About Room 18. I’ll tell you when you come.
You’re coming, aren’t you? June 9?
— Elmer
We came.
We pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Prairie Rest Motel at four o’clock on a hot afternoon in June. The geraniums were blooming in the window boxes. The vending machine was humming.
Elmer was sitting on a bench outside the office. In his plaid flannel shirt, even though it was ninety-two degrees. His glasses. His white hair combed back with water.
Ezoic
He looked older. Thinner. But when he saw our car, he stood up and smiled.
Ezoic
Gabby came out of the office behind him. She was wearing a sundress. She was holding a cake.
