Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri [53]
“Megan?” he called out. He could barely form the word. His voice was ragged, and he realized that for a long time in his sleep he’d been craving a glass of water. He sat up a little and became aware of an excruciating band of pressure around his head. Looking at the neighboring bed he saw that it had not been slept in, that the open suitcase and clothes had not been moved aside.
He sat up fully and then stood. “Megan?” he called out again. He took off his jacket, went to the bathroom, drank water from the basin. He couldn’t bear to turn the light on. The night began to come back to him in pieces. He remembered sitting on the toilet seat, just minutes ago, it seemed, inspecting Megan’s skirt. Then he remembered watching Pam Borden getting married and waiting in a long line for a drink, and a conversation at dinner with a woman who was engaged. He remembered leaving Megan at the table with another man. Suddenly he jerked on the light and saw that her glasses were not by the basin where she normally left them during the night, that she had not come back to the hotel.
He returned to the bed in which he’d slept, searching for some sign of her on the other side of it. But the cover had not been turned back; there were only the creases indicating where he’d lain. Again he crossed the room. He yanked open the closet, which contained just a few empty hangers on the rod. He decided to go to the front desk and ask if she’d returned. He felt chilly and put on his jacket again. Then he saw that the door to the balcony was partly open.
She was sitting in a chair, in jeans and a fleece pullover she’d wisely packed, thinking it might be cold in the mountains. The diamond studs he’d given her after Maya’s birth sparkled in her ears. She was sipping coffee from a paper cup and was staring at the pine tree that blocked the view.
“Well, I made it to watch the sun rise, like I said I would,” she said. “Only the sunrise wasn’t visible today.” He looked at the sky. It was full of daylight but uniformly gray. The air was cool and rain seemed imminent.
He eyed the empty chair next to Megan, knowing he wasn’t welcome. She had not turned around to face him, had not looked up, and he stood partly behind her, shivering, his arms crossed in front of him. “When did you get back?” he asked her.
“Oh, it must have been around three. That was when the party finally broke up. My feet are killing me. I haven’t danced like that in years.”
Her words made him think that perhaps his memories had been part of a terrible dream. “Did we dance last night at the wedding?”
“It was only for about an hour that I was out of my mind with worry. We looked for you everywhere. I asked strange men to check underneath bathroom stalls. I even considered calling the police. But then something told me you’d ended up back here, and when I called the hotel that’s exactly what they told me.” She said all of this calmly, as if addressing the tree in front of her, and yet he felt her fury in each word.
“I couldn’t find a pay phone,” he said.
She turned to him then, jerking the chair around while still sitting in it, her eyes wet with tears. “Neither could I. But I asked Pam’s father and he opened up one of the offices.”
Amit looked down at his feet, at his muddied wing tips. “I left the car up there. Did you drive it back?”
“How could I, when the keys were in your pocket?”
“How did you get here, then?” He felt as if he might be sick, remembering Ted, thinking of him accompanying her to the hotel in the middle of the night.
“Oh, that nice couple at our table gave me a ride. Jared and Felicia.”
He knew that she’d been virtuous, that she was telling him the truth. At the same time, feeling sick again, he wondered if Felicia had told Megan what he’d said. “How are the girls?”
“They’re fine, they’re having a blast. I told my parents we’ll be there by afternoon.”
“But we’re staying here until tomorrow. That was the plan.”
“It’s a bit silly, don’t you think, given the weather? The concierge said it’s only supposed to get worse.”
Ten years