Company

The next night I tried bargaining with sleep to come see me, again. Sitting on the edge of the bed fully clothed, I tilted my head and went into deep thought.
Earlier, I took all of my allergy medication correctly. I try to avoid them at home because of the drowsy side effects. In that room I needed them.
Under an hour my head and body got heavy. I laid my head lightly on the scratchy pillow, like I wanted to be comfortable and barley touch it at the same time.
The thin sheets were a stinky musk, which was probably more the old mattress.
I wondered what Kell was doing in her room. She’s probably real comfortable, I thought.
I laid in the fetal position then took with two finger tips like someone was forcing me to pick up something nasty and I pulled just enough of the blanket over me to cover my legs.
My breathing grew slower. Wearily. Wearily. I dozed off and on. I’d sleep some then wake to look around the room. Soft light illuminated 101 from the outside balcony. It allowed me to see around.
Even in my sleep I worried a little.
Around 4 a.m. in my dazed state I saw something creep out of the corner of my eyes.
I thought hallucinations from lack of sleep, a nine-hour time zone change, and the medications had me imagining things.
No. Listen, my heart said.
I crept slowly up on my elbows, keeping my back against the headboard until I sat upright. I stopped breathing and became still. Squinting my eyes, I stared at the wall for about two minutes.
Sure enough, there crept a new lizard. This one sized up with the other but looked dirt red to match the furniture like a chameleon. He darted in and out from the back of the mirror. While keeping my eyes on his position I quickly reach for my shoes, not to throw at him, but to put them on.
I kept them close to the bed because I didn’t want my feet to touch that floor. No telling what was on it.
The shoes were turned upside down near the bed so nothing can hide inside them and incase I needed a quick getaway.
With two little shakes of my Nikes to make sure nothing crawled in them, I threw my feet in. I didn’t even lace them up.
Doubt and concerns ran through my mind.
I didn’t want to go running to my sister again, but my stresses overwhelmed everything else. I couldn’t take it. Two different baby iguanas in two days.
I knew she was resting. But, surely she can help.
I ran out of the room again, this time with all of my bags. The move was easy because I never unpacked. In five steps, I made it to Kell’s door. I went knocking again on the glass door. This time my knocks had frustration behind them.
Once again, she too, was awake. She let me in.
Kell answered the door distraught and in a Vegas t-shirt I gave her.
She had to use it for a gown.
As I retold my new story, I muscled my bags against the wall. All the while, searching around for critters. We both decided that there were none and that two sets of eyes were better than one. We would stay together from now on. Later, I became accustomed to running in and out of my old room to take the amenities out, like two ragged towels and the thin two-ply toilet tissue they issued us.
For now, we needed rest.
We climbed into the bed. She went in first.
Kell left me a slither of a space. I went in after her still hanging off the bed.
I asked her to push over.
She said, ‘NO’.
I asked her again, “Just please, Kell, push over, its kind of hot and I could use the space.”
She didn’t turn her air on. Kell developed a silly phobia. The night before she told me, that the critters may live in the unit and turning it on may draw them to her. Her fear outweighed mine. I got hot from running room to room. I hated heat.
Nights neared in the low 70s/high 60s and cool air rush in so we were OK with no A/C on.
“Kell, push over, please,” I asked, slightly frowning.
She said, “No.” It sounded concrete.
I grumbled, ‘Why, it’s a big bed and I just want to sleep? I am sorry to complain but I can’t take living here anymore. Can we please get a new hotel?”
She replied slowly with a shaky laughter, “There’s a big stain on the other side of the bed.”
My eyes got wide in the dark and I said, “You have problems too!”
She finally confessed to me. I thought I was alone.
She told me how she had to take uncomfortable cold showers.
How her TV, phone, and lamps didn’t work, either. How she used her bottle water for brushing her teeth. Her luggage hadn’t come in. And how she especially grew tired of having to hand wash her underwear for the next day and hanging them to dry in the funky closet. Then having to put them back on, only for them to still be damp.
The climate wasn’t like ours back home. At home, when people hang stuff out to dry, they are dry in less than an hour or two.
I noticed that when we made it to the island, everyone had clothes hanging out all day. With her experience, we learned that it actually took all day and more for clothes to fully dry.
Though I learned that she had problems to top mine. I felt sorry. But, My heart grew light.
Misery loves company.