Bridge Eight

I was lucky enough to have my story, Places You'll Go in Bridge Eight's Fall 2015 edition.  I am going to share the introduction below; please check out Bridge Eight for the full story and many other great stories and poems.

Places You'll Go

One would think the low pile and dizzying pattern of the carpet could hide the vomit stain better.  Instead, Shelia scrubbed at it with the industrial strength cleanser that burned the hair from her nostrils.  Not even the scrub brush typically reserved for just the toilets made a dent in the purple streaked stain.  The kid must have drank a gallon of grape soda the day before.  They didn’t even leave a tip.  Or a note. Just a towel, now streaked purple and green, over the wet spot between the two beds, with the corner of some Dr. Seuss book sticking into the ooze. 

Judging from the baseball cards and muddied cleats in the corner the family stayed at the hotel just off I-10 for some Little League tournament, a state qualifier for the Little League World Series. Next to the man’s side of the bed, he left a stopwatch and a list of times marked first base, second base, third base to home and a list of jersey numbers.  He marked some numbers with stars, other numbers with three angry lines under them; those times seemed the longest.  The longest time matched the number from the dirty jersey she picked up from the bathroom floor.  She imagined the kid puking from stress; she didn’t blame him. 

Sheila examined her cell phone.  Her shift ended two hours ago.  The time she took on this mess got her behind.  She stopped scrubbing a few times and picked up the other rooms on her rotation, but one guest still remained behind her locked door despite the “service please” sign on the knob.  

I hope you check out Bridge Eight to get the rest of the story.