Dirt Road Read Online Free Page B

long, one-storey building with an open corridor: the Sleep Inn. Sleep in and ye slept in, it was clever. The guy at the reception office was young, more like a student working part-time; a black guy. He did the paperwork with Dad then gave him the key.
    They walked by the edge of the carpark, along the side of the building. Their room was way towards the end. Only five cars were in the carpark. Did that mean only five rooms taken in the whole motel? No. He saw lights in a few of them so other people were here. Up on the outside corridor laundry hung on the rail to dry. Farther along two people sat on chairs on the open landing gazing out over the carpark. There were no tall buildings. No hills either. They would be seeing right over to wherever. An old man and old lady. The old lady didnt look at them but the man did and he called down: Howdy!
    Murdo waved up to them: Hiya!
    This was the first he had spoken to an actual American. Along at the room Dad could hardly open the door. The handle was shaky and about to fall off. Then the key wouldnt go in the lock. Then when he managed it the key would not turn. Now he had to grip the handle but it shook like it would fall off. Maybe he was forcing it too much. He stood for a minute breathing in and out. Then he got it to work. Bloody squirt of oil, he said, that is all it needs.
    The room had double and single beds and an old-style television on top of a cupboard. One wardrobe. It only had three hangers inside. They werent unpacking so it didnt matter. Dad sat on the end of the double bed, still in his jacket and shoes.
    Murdo checked out the fridge. He was starving. Dad must have been too. Completely empty inside; sticky patches and not too clean. The microwave was working but ponging. Although ye getpongs cooking food so it didnt matter too much. When had they last eaten? Maybe there was a takeaway someplace.
    The cupboard underneath the television smelled of damp but contained cups, plates, plastic cutlery and an electric kettle. In the bathroom there was a shower as well as a toilet bowl and washbasin. The handle on the toilet bowl wouldnt pull properly. Murdo jerked it a couple of times but couldnt get it going. No toilet paper! Murdo couldnt find any. He didnt need it, but what if he did? No soap either. He rinsed his hands. And no towel!
    He came out the bathroom wiping his hands on his jeans. Dad was lying stretched out on the bed, hands clasped behind his head and staring at the ceiling. No toilet paper, said Murdo.
    Dad sighed.
    Maybe people bring their own.
    What a thought.
    Murdo shrugged. No towels either.
    Dad raised his head to see him. Just use yer own, he said. Dad paused a moment, then added: Did ye bring one?
    No.
    I told ye to bring one. I deliberately told ye.
    I was keeping space.
    Keeping space? What ye talking about keeping space? What are ye not goni wash? A two and a half week holiday?
    Murdo looked at him.
    Eh? Murdo, I’m talking to ye.
    Sorry Dad.
    How are ye goni dry yerself at Uncle John’s? Run about the house and cause a draught?
    Dad, they’ll have towels.
    Who’ll have towels? Who ye talking about?
    Uncle John and Aunt Maureen.
    Murdo, we’re visitors. It’s called “being polite”. People bring towels when they’re staying with people. That’s why I told ye to bring one: not because Uncle John and Auntie Maureen dont haveany of their own. Of course they’ve got towels. We’re guests, and we act like guests. We look after ourselves. Things like towels, toothbrushes, toothpaste, that’s what ye bring; ye bring them with ye.
    Dad shook his head, unlaced his shoes and kicked them off, then stretched back out on the bed.
    Murdo said, Dad maybe it’s a mistake, like the guy in the office, maybe he just forgot to put the stuff in. They might keep it all in the office.
    Dad’s eyes were closed.
    Will I go and ask? said Murdo. I was wondering about teabags as well. They’ve got the cups and