Page 20 of The Last Trip

“The question is…are youtoosleepy?”

I try to open my eyes, I really do. To be here and present for this man I love, but I can’t. I physically can’t move.

He kisses my shoulder, dropping back on the bed with a sigh, then—a strangled gasp. “What the hell?”

I jerk my eyes open with a start, and my heart lodges in my throat.

In the doorway, Norma’s and George’s shadowy forms can just barely be made out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Calvin demands again, jumping out of bed and crossing the room. He grips on to the door like he’s prepared to shut it, but George holds his hand up.

“We knocked,” Norma says. “You must’ve not heard us.”

“It’s the middle of the night. You can’t just walk in here. We could call the police,” Calvin says.

In the bed, I pull the covers tighter around me.

She looks at him as if it’s the most ridiculous idea she’s ever heard. “Honestly, I’m sorry. We had an alert that the door was standing open. We tried to call you but didn’t get an answer. Then, on our way up, we thought we heard a scream. I wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Cal puffs out a breath. “What are you talking about? The door was shut. Whose phone did you call? Mine never went off. I would’ve heard it.”

Lord knows he’s not wrong about that.Still, he walks over and checks his phone anyway, as do I. There are no missed calls on my screen.

“We called both numbers you gave us. Service up here can be spotty at times, so maybe the calls didn’t come through. Anyway, maybe you thought the door was closed, but I can say for sure it wasn’t. It was standing open when we arrived.”

“Surely one of the calls would’ve made it through, though,” I point out.

Cal rubs a hand over his forehead. “What do you want? What are you doing here? This is completely inappropriate.”

“As I said, we had an alert that our door was standing open. Obviously, we can’t have that with the weather like it is. We called both of your phones and got no response, so we cameto check that everything was okay. On our way, we thought we heard a scream. When we got here, we found the door open, so we walked inside. I called your name, but there wasn’t a response. We were worried. We had just walked into the doorway when you saw us.” She huffs, like she’s the one who’s been wronged here. “Now, if everything’s okay, we’ll just go. But please make sure to lock the door.” She says it like a practiced schoolteacher chiding us for doing something wrong.

Cal follows her to the door, and from here, I listen as he locks it, then unlocks it, and locks it again.

“I don’t like that,” I whisper when he comes back to me. “What if they were trying towatchus or something? Maybe we should leave. Or call the police.”

“I’ve got you,” he promises, snuggling up against me. “They’re just a lonely old couple. The door is locked this time for sure.” He kisses the side of my head.

It doesn’t take long for him to start snoring, but as the hours pass, I’m aware of every sound the cabin makes—the roar of the heat, the tip-tap of the water dripping in the sinks like we were instructed to do to keep the old pipes from freezing, and the rustle of the wind outside.

Though there are no other sounds to warn me of anything being wrong, as I lie in bed, every once in a while, I’ll catch a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. The door to our bedroom is shut and I know it’s probably just a shadow from the window, but sometimes, I swear I still see them standing there. Watching us.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HER — PRESENT DAY

The next morning when I wake up, my entire body is stiff and sore. Since midway through the pregnancy, I haven’t slept well anyway. If I’m not waking up to her kicking me in the ribs or myself gasping for air because I feel like I can’t breathe, I’m waking up to pee for the thirteenth time that night or because I accidentally rolled onto my back and panicked because pregnant women are only supposed to sleep on their sides.

It’s not easy remembering all the rules. In the beginning, Cal charted them for me. He left little reminders everywhere:

On the fridge,

No deli meat!

On my nightstand,

Don’t forget your prenatal vitamin!

On the bathroom mirror,

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