Night Auditor

Meredith (3)

I was back in Key West.

The sun marveled in the blue skies, the smell of fresh ocean and hot sand permanently imprinted in my mind, and I was once again holding a glass of margarita.

Next to me was Billy who had just put down his Kurt Vonnegut book.

"We should do something else." Billy said.

"Like what?" I asked, barely paying attention to him but fully relishing the sweetness of my cocktail.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "We've been tanning for so long. Aren't you bored?"

Non-verbal cues were not necessary for me to know when my husband was feeling fretful. Back home, when he was triggered by anxiety causing him to be antsy for the next hours or so, Billy would walk in circles around our tiny living room with a joint in hand, trying to figure out his next activity. I, on the other hand, would keep my annoyance (or try to) from the charade he didn't have much control over.

"But I'm so relaxed." I took a big gulp of my margarita until it was almost empty then said, "What do you wanna do?"

"We can go find a trail to walk on. I'm sure there's plenty of walking trails around."

"Why would you want to go walk on a trail when you can relax at one of the most beautiful beaches there is?"

He sat quietly for a moment, making me think he had given up the idea. Then he said, "Fine. You can stay here and I'll go explore."

"See ya--"

But before I could say my goodbyes, Billy was no longer by my side.

A knock on the door awakened me and abruptly pulled me away from Key West once again. I quickly glanced at the clock on the bedside table: it was only half past seven.

I opened the door to find the front desk clerk who checked me in earlier.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," he said. "My apologies for bothering you. I was pretty slammed earlier and I'd just gotten the time to complete your check in. It seems the card on file declined. Do you by chance have a different method of payment?"

"Sure, give me a second." I said before closing the door behind me.

Of course the card didn't work. I had been solely using my Chase card, the one I didn't share with Billy, for this trip and I hadn't bothered to check how much money I'd been using.

And of course that wasn't the only money.

I pulled out a Bank of America card, the one connected to my joint account with Billy, from my wallet then gave the information to the clerk.

Once the ordeal was done, I decided to revisit my bank accounts, something I should have been consistently doing especially during a trip with no end in sight.

First I logged into my Chase check account: $19.35 left.

I hadn't deposited any more money into this account since my last direct deposit from Big Wonders Daycare.

I then logged into my Bank of America joint account with Billy. No other recent transactions were shown other than the authorization the motel clerk ran on the card. Before that were two deposits more than enough to fund the remainder of my road trip, however long it might be.

By the time I sorted out my finances, it was already eight in the evening. Dinner was two of the oranges I bought from the fruit stand and dessert was a sad attempt of trying to go back to sleep.

But I couldn't.

Not with Bill watching me from the other side of the bed.

Not with Billy, with his face lacking color and emotion, observing me like a hawk just like he did each night since he died.

Not with Billy stuck as a prisoner of death while I still had the option to live the life I could have had with him.

How could I ever fall asleep again?