Page 27 of Every Step She Takes
Her hands settle. “Of course Stefano can stay. Everyone is welcome on the road to self-understanding.”
Everyone cheers, and Stefano waves to our server. “More wines! Grazie!”
Several more bottles are uncorked, and when Sadie passes me a bottle of cabernet from across the table, I don’t notice herfreckles or the Quinta Costa label on the wine. The noise of the group saves me from noticing anything at all.
Our lodging for the night is a hostel directly across the street from the restaurant, and when the wine is finally emptied, the half-drunk group swans over with our giant packs. The entryway and communal area of the hostel are Scandinavian minimalism by way of a one-star accommodation, and even though it’s not an actual albergue, everyone milling around seems to be pilgrims like us. The beautiful, twentysomething staff of expats all wear black, while the walls are white, and the furnishings are a pale wood. The only color comes from the flyers advertising pub crawls and hostel-inspired nights on the town. There’s a sleek, modern bar along the far wall, and a slew of tables where guests drink their evening cerveza.
It’s exactly what I expected from the accommodation on our Camino tour: bare-bones and no-frills.
Inez checks us all in, then begins passing out room keys as she gives us the rundown of tomorrow’s plan. “In the morning, we will meet here in the lobby at eight o’clock sharp for breakfast. You will need to have all your things packed and be ready to start our trek at that time. We depart promptly at eight thirty.” She fiddles with the keys in one hand and her phone in the other. “Now, Stefano, Ari, and Vera signed up for a triple room.”
“Migliori amiche!” Stefano shouts, throwing one arm over each of their shoulders. Vera accepts the key, and she, Stefano, and Ari do an inebriated swagger down a hallway on the ground floor. Another key goes to Ro, who seems less than thrilled when Rebecca follows them up the stairs.
When it’s just me and Sadie left in the lobby, Inez dangles a silver key in my direction. “Your room is on the fourth floor.”
Sadie tries to stand upright, but some combination of her pack and the extreme case of jet lag makes that difficult. “Where’s my room?” she slurs sleepily.
“Fourth floor,” Inez repeats. “You’re rooming together.”
Sadie is suddenly very awake. “Excuse me?Together?”
“Yes. Your sister signed up for a double room. Didn’t she tell you?” Inez asks, but it’s clear at this point that Sadie’s sister didn’t tell her fuck all about this trip.
“No. No, she didn’t.” Sadie shakes her head and refuses to look at me. “I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t room with her. Or anyone.”
“I’m not thrilled about it either.” The words come out harsher than I intend, but Sadie isn’t the only one who’s disappointed with our room assignment. How am I supposed to avoid this woman if she’s sleeping in the twin bed next to mine for the next fourteen nights? I’ll have to listen to her snoring and smell her shampoo after she showers and see her freckles every damn morning.
“Sorry,” Sadie sniffles. “It’s not personal.”
“It sounded a little personal,” I grumble.
“I’m sorry, Mal.” Sadie stares at me with a sadness that rivals the statues that welcomed us into Matosinhos, those women who were so unafraid of their own grief. She turns back toward Inez. “It’s… it’s fine. I can share a room.”
Inez flicks her gaze over to me. “Is this arrangement going to be okay for both of you?”
Absolutely not.
“Absolutely!” I reassure Inez. Sadie nods too, and Inez slumps in visible relief. “Thank goddess. I can’t handle any more unexpected surprises today.”
“I’m sorry I caused you so much additional stress,” Sadie quickly apologizes, working herself into another spectacular bluster. “I promise I will handle this all better once I’ve had agood night of sleep.” She adjusts her heavy pack and almost falls over again. “Do you mind just pointing us in the direction of the elevator?”
I turn to Inez. I’m not going to be the one to tell her.
“How is there no elevator?” Sadie cries as we face the steep, narrow staircase up to our room.
“A lot of budget hotels in Europe don’t have elevators.”
“That’s fucking ableist.”
“Do you want me to carry your bag for you?”
“I don’t.” She grabs onto the straps and tries to stand up tall. And then she starts falling backward as soon as she takes a step. After a few false starts, she finally gets enough momentum to make it up the first flight of stairs. I should leave her there on the landing up to the second floor, but I don’t.
We arrive at the rickety wooden door with the crooked number 42 nailed to the front ten minutes later. I slide the key into the lock and push open the door to reveal a standard one-star European hotel room. It’s a clean but cramped space with two twin beds, a tiny bathroom visible through a pocket door, and not much else.
Sadie freezes in the doorway and stares at the semi-depressing, one-hundred square feet. And she finally, fully, breaks down.
Heavy, full-body sobs tremor through her as she remains immobilized in the doorway. I set my backpack down on one of the beds and hover beside it, unsure what to do. There is a part of me that wants to go to her, to hold her hand the way I did on the plane. I want to sit with her, listen to her.
