Indigo Ch. 1

Sam was on the run for eighteen months. With nowhere left to turn, she is convinced to live in an isolated community with others that have been shunned from society. Healed by an organization called I

Sam drove. She counted down the exits to her hotel. 292… 289… 287. Finally, she reached Church Street and the small hotel that a gas station attendant had told her about yesterday. He said that it smelled vaguely of smoke and room deodorizer, but that it was cheap and a little off the beaten path. Both of which are incredibly important when you want to come and go unnoticed. She had been driving since morning and now the rain had started to fall heavy against the windshield. The cars around her were slowing and swerving to avoid large pools forming on the highway. The constant glare of headlights in her rearview mirror had started to give her a headache.

Sam pulled into the parking lot and jogged from her car to the covered entrance to reduce the amount of rainwater that collected on her clothing. With a gentle tug on the door, a happy chime rang loudly into the vacant lobby. A petite young receptionist walked out from behind a "staff only" area and headed straight to the hotel computer. It was around midnight, and it was obvious she had been snoozing in the back room. Her face was reddened on one side as if she had made an unfortunate pillow choice. Upon seeing Sam, she quickly ran her fingers through her tousled red curls and tried to subtly rearrange her appearance.

Amanda, which her gold and black name tag read, began to look at Sam as if her face was vaguely familiar. After some short pleasantries, Sam simply said "I called in a reservation last night, under the name Noble."

"Can I get your license?" the receptionist started to ask, but was cut off by Sam quickly shoving it across the desk. Startled, Amanda paused for a second, and then began to study her guest's face again. "Have you stayed here before?" she asked, returning the ID to Sam after only a cursory glance.

"No, I've never really been to the area." Sam said with a polite but forced smile.

"Oh really? Are you sure you don't have family or business nearby?"

"No."

Sam shifted her weight uncomfortably. She did not like the small talk, or all the questions. There was no way she had ever met this girl before. Though, if Sam was completely honest with herself, she had somewhat grown accustomed to experiencing over-familiarity from strangers. She never got used to it.

"Your license says Virginia. Did you drive all the way from there?"

"Not really." Sam was doing her best not to add anything, but it was definitely getting more difficult. She was alone so much of the time. The isolation did make her start to crave these brief encounters. Maybe Amanda could give her some ideas about the area and insight into the local flavor. Amanda could even help set her up with a new job. She had never worked at a hotel, but it was a thought. It appeared to be a locally owned establishment, and the owner plus manager types tend to ask a lot fewer questions. They are just happy for the cheap and temporary help.

"It says here that you are paying the weekly rate. How long are you planning to stay?"

"I am just here for a short visit. Maybe a week or two. When I called last night, they said there was no issue with me doing one week at a time and that you guys rarely fill up."

"Well, that's true." Amanda's face was a mix of agreement and disdain for working in a place with such a humdrum character. "Are you here to check out Memphis? You know, not many people come to Southaven to visit, unless they are looking for somewhere cheap to stay but close to the city."

Amanda rattled on, "You know, you should really check out Graceland. It seems kind of lame, but there is some really interesting memorabilia there."

Sam had sent her gaze to the floor hoping to terminate the conversation and expedite the check-in. It wasn't that she didn't like people, but she found them utterly overwhelming. Even short conversations like this one could leave her exhausted. It also had a terrible effect on her mood. Alone, Sam was a calm and content person. However, ever since she could remember, it was as if a mere conversation with someone else could change the course of her day. Sometimes this was a good thing, but often it had an exceptionally negative effect.

As Sam continued to avoid the conversation, she felt a surge of pity swell inside of her. Almost instantaneously, Amanda walked out from behind her receptionist's desk. Pushing open the hinged, half-door and clearing the distance between them in two steps, she pulled Sam into a deep hug. Though confused by the girl's intrusion into her physical space, Sam hugged back. It would, after all, be incredibly rude not to reciprocate, and Sam did feel like the hug just might make Amanda's night better.

"You poor thing! All that driving… It would be so much easier for you just to fly," the receptionist said as she released the hug and moved back to her side of the desk. She had incorrectly assumed that Sam had left Virginia that morning. Though she had driven a considerable distance, it was from the opposite direction. "Have you ever thought about that? It would probably be cheaper once you consider all the hotels, and gas, and wear and tear on your vehicle." Her Mississippi accent was much more noticeable once she dropped the well-practiced receptionist speech and started to make casual conversation with Sam. Although Sam had heard the question, she merely shrugged her shoulders. There is no way that she could explain to this lady, that the thought of flying made her terribly ill and she was certain that her first flight would most certainly be her last. Amanda kept talking even though Sam's eyes had started to roam around her new, makeshift home. The hotel had definitely seen better days, but she had heard the rooms were clean enough and they had free breakfast every morning. Sam was pulled from her assessment by the continuing, though much one-sided, conversation in front of her

"I fly out to see my aunt and uncle in Orlando once a year. I couldn't imagine trying to drive out there. You see, they retired a few years ago, and always invite me to come out and go to Disney World. You would think they would know I was twenty-five, and probably too old, but I do it to make them happy. They are pretty much all I have since my parents died."

The receptionist let the conversation trail off as she activated the magnetic card, and told Sam about the wireless internet and which room would be hers. Room 111. Non-smoking, king sized bed. Sam said "thank you", almost as if she had not even heard the last bit of the conversation, and drug her luggage to her room. Walking away, she felt slightly guilty for not being more polite to the sweet receptionist. She also felt the slight sting of rejection. With a tremendous effort, she pushed all of her emotions to the side. Exhaustion had already sat in and she could no longer keep her mind focused. The drive had been a long one, and the traffic had been terrible.

As she trudged to her room, she thought about how incredibly odd humans could be. How could they be so willing to open up to complete strangers and tell them the most personal details of their lives? They seemed to do it with such ease, as if talking to an old friend or colleague. Sam had always chalked it up to having a friendly face. Or, another possible scenario, was that she had an incredibly common face that set people at ease. She continued by thinking that maybe everyone was really just in search of a therapist. An impartial, warm body, with whom to tell those things they couldn't tell anyone else: the very worst and the very best about themselves. Maybe in another life she could have been a good therapist, or at least a good counselor. With that final thought, she stepped into a hot, long, and much-needed shower.

Wrapped in a clean towel, and having removed the last layer of grime that had accumulated the past few days, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She could still smell the smoke and cleaner, but it was starting to fade. Truthfully, Sam found it comforting. The scent reminded her of her grandmother and subsequently the pack of smokes still in her pocket. She had meant to quit for the past two years, hence the choice of a non-smoking room, but the timing had never seemed right. She had always told herself, that as soon as she felt addicted she would stop. But every cigarette still had joy for Sam. From the smell it left on her fingers to the slight euphoria she felt once it was finished. She appreciated every puff. The thought of a distant anti-smoking PSA lingered on Sam's mind for a minute, but she let it wash away as she focused on settling in for the night.

The sheets were clean. The bed was as comfortable as you can get for this price. The television worked. It was the perfect pit-stop to nowhere. Sam glanced out the window, and stared at the rain coming down. Sam hoped that the storms would lift by morning as she drew the curtains closed. It was certainly not a good omen to start her visit surrounded by all this gloomy weather. She thumbed through some channels, looking for that perfect station to quiet her internal dialogue and put her to sleep. A local meteorologist came on, discussing the weather and his prediction of continued rain through tomorrow morning. With a groan, she kept flicking through the channels until she landed on an early 1970's episode of Monty Python. She set the sleep timer, and barely made it through the first skit before her eyes were completely closed.

As Sam started to drift off that first night, she felt a tremendous sadness fall over her. Her initial dreams were about losing her grandmother and the dread of attending yet another funeral. But, they slowly turned to the cute receptionist and their adventures with the King.