Page 104 of Under His Guard

I walk around the hotel room. I look for strange holes or cracks. I cover up the mirror and a vent with the two provided towels.

When I see the footprints at the bottom of the shower, I reaffirm my decision to avoid it altogether, and then I go to the windows.

Pulling the shutter down, it clicks into place, and I slide over the thin drapes in front of that.

There’s an air conditioner underneath it, and the thing is whining and moaning with every attempt to cool the room.

It’s working. Sort of. Still, the entire room smells like mildew, and humidity hangs thick in the air.

Beyond that, it’s just so quiet. At least, I think it is for a split second when I perch on the edge of the full bed.

But then the noises from outside begin to filter through the walls, and I hang my head in my hands.

A dog is barking, someone chasing after it, and several cars pull in and out of the parking lot for the restaurant next door.

The restaurant that looks like it’s in far better shape than the hotel, with a more robust clientele.

Most of the time, people take their shoes off to sit or lie in a bed. I don’t.

I keep my sneakers on, my scrubs and jacket, too, as I sit there—alone.

Not moving for the better part of ten minutes, a new noise starts up from the room right next to mine.

Fake moaning and a headboard hitting the wall over and over.

“Ugh, great.”

After probably another ten or so minutes, I’m nearly ready to get food across the way when the noises next door stop.

“Oh, thank God.”

But then I hear the negotiations over price, and my heart sinks all over again.

I’m not surprised it was a hooker and her john, but I’ll admit that haggling wasn’t something I thought was a big part of the process.

Eventually, the raised voices die off, the two of them eventually agreeing, and I’m left to the sound of cars and a shitty air conditioner.

My stomach rumbles. I’m not sure if it’s hunger or nausea.

It’s getting hard to tell at this point.

I’m very aware of the symptoms of early pregnancy, and they’re all occurring at once with little relief to be found.

With all the exhaustion and desperate need to cry, I’m starting to understand why everyone seems to hate this part.

My hand comes over my stomach without thinking about it.

A bunch of cells are joining together in there, carrying out their programmed destiny to grow a human.

No heart, no brain, no nerves yet. Just cells, and still…

It could be a human. It could be my human.

“And I still don’t know if I want that.”

Letting myself fall backward onto the bed, I curl up into a ball. I try not to smell the cigarette smoke and mildew.

Regina has raised a kid alone. So, I know it’s technically possible. Hell, lots of people have done it, so it’s very possible.

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