The Half That You See by Rebecca Rowland (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

of his left hand, the little blue light at the top blinking, pregnant with message. He put it in his pocket.

“No change,” the nurse said. This was a different woman, short and wearing the intrigue all over her face. “And she hasn’t had any other male visitors.”

“What?” Josh said, but knew, got it clear as a mountain stream.

“Some women from her conference, but no men.” The woman’s eyebrows disappeared behind her curled bangs.

Not thinking, no reason to do so, but doing so anyhow, he leaned in close and said, “I found lingerie in her suitcase. I’ve never seen her wear it.”

The nurse curled and tilted her head while straightening her back. Her eyes wide and her mouth in a tight pucker. If an illiterate’s audio dictionary existed with photo explanations, this expression would define the word SCANDALOUS.

Nothing better to do, Josh went to the theater in the mall. He thought maybe he’d see something horrific or at the very least, something thrilling. Nothing showing until four, so he went to the toy store and looked at all the plastic junk. By noon, he was back in his room with a large pizza and a plan to watch the very worst television had to offer.

“What in the hell?” The Winnebago Indian Motorhome by Tonka was back on his bed, out of the box. He set the pizza next to the TV and crouched to look at the man in the little bedroom, mounting a little woman, her legs spread in a V. Both the man and woman wore pants. “What in the hell?”

Someone was…the simplest answer…the same person who’d entered when he was in the shower had the toy at home, or parts of it anyway, and was filling out his accessories. He should be mad at the invasion upon his privacy and belongings, but how could he be?

The hibachi was back beneath the awning by the cooler, and Josh said, “Better hurry or those dogs’ll burn.” He then sat back and grabbed the TV remote, found the show Relic Hunter and settled in.

Josh awoke in the early evening from a pizza coma. The stink cloud of expelled gas seemed to eat the light and for a few moments, Josh had no idea of where he was. He leaned to his left and found the lamp switch. Halos blinked away, his eyes settled on the motorhome. The man and woman sat beneath the awning, next to the hibachi and cooler. A grey cat sat next to the woman.

This was too much. He lifted the landline receiver and dialed the desk.

“You tell whoever came into my room that it’s not cool to screw around with my stuff.”

“Excuse me?” It was a man minding the desk. “Sorry?”

“Someone came in my room and moved my things.” Josh’s grip on the phone was white knuckle tight.

“I’m sorry, sometimes housekeeping has to move items in order—”

“I know that! But tonight, tonight somebody came in and played with my…things!”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, or maybe this afternoon. I was sleeping and they moved my toys!”

“Your toys?”

“What? Yeah, toys. What does it matter what?”

The person at the desk sighed audibly. “How long are you staying? I can put a note—”

“My wife is in the hospital,” Josh said, letting his grip loosen and his head fall back onto a pillow.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“She’s pregnant, but it isn’t mine.”

“Okay.”

“She was going to see him sometime this week. I found her lingerie.”

“Uh, that’s not…what do you need me to…what room are you in and I’ll make a note—”

Josh cradled the telephone. His pocket suddenly seemed on fire and he heard that voice, he’s calling, calling right now, now, now. He grabbed Claire’s phone and swiped past the lock screen. No incoming call, but there were dozens of missed calls. Aside from Claire’s mother was a contact labelled Pharmacy. Pharmacy had called her fourteen times.

“Pharmacy?” It had to be fake. Josh lifted his face and looked at the motorhome. The barbeque had been packed away—how? how!—and the people and cat had retreated inside. The husband and wife in the bed, flat on their backs and the cat curled up on the driver’s seat. “But.” The cat was hard plastic, immoveable, and hadn’t been curled. The thing sat upright before. Josh wiped his eyes and jaw, his guts began clenching and he hurried to the toilet. Claire’s cellphone in his hands, elbows on his knees, ass on the toilet seat, he expelled something hot and awful, but not as hot and not as awful as the traded messages between Claire and Pharmacy.

“Mr. Dolan, visiting hours are over. There’s been no change, come back tomorrow.”

The nurse was a man this time, tall and muscular. Josh wondered if this was him. Somehow. He pulled Claire’s phone from his pocket and dialed Pharmacy. It rang six times before reaching an automated mailbox.

The nurse was frowning at Josh. “So, come back tomorrow?” he said, making it both a question and a demand.

“You have your cellphone on you?” Josh said.

The nurse grabbed his pocket. The cellphone shape stuck out on the leg of the man’s light blue scrubs. “Why?”

Josh shook, sneered and spun on his heels, made for the elevator.

Instead of heading back to the room, he returned to the theater. The latest of the Fast & Furious franchise was about to begin and he sat just in time. Usually, the movies dealt with high octane cars that nobody ever owned in the real world, but this one…The Rock was behind the wheel of an old, white with green accents, Winnebago motorhome.

“Hey baby, you get rid of that loser yet?” he said and raised his right eyebrow.

Claire came from the back in the red lingerie and purred, “Soon.”

Josh squinted tight and put his hands over his ears. The end credits were rolling by the time he opened his eyes. He looked around the dim seating area. The sparse crowd made for the exits. He inhaled a deep popcorn and candy breath before rising to his