He knew it was the wrong thing to say once her forehead stopped kneading his chest.
What the hell’s that supposed to mean? she said.
From the bloodsucking deer, he added.
She let go of his neck. For a while they leaned against the railing next to each other. Timothy waited for something to happen.
Aren’t you going to say something? Courtney said.
I don’t really know what the problem is, Timothy said. Courtney started walking back to the hotel.
Jesus, Courtney, he said.
I want to go home, she said.
Courtney, come on, he said again. She didn’t answer.
She walked the long slow curved lamp-lit path toward the hotel porch. There were plants hanging off the rafters, green overgrown ones, their pots sprinkled with dried-out petals and swaying in the dead air. She ignored the valet who tipped his cap at her and said, Evening ma’am. She planted herself on one of the white rocking chairs and sat in it, motionless, her face in her hands.
When eventually she spread her fingers apart and looked through them, to see what the night looked like, the valet was leaning against the railing with his back to her. His khaki shorts, she noticed, had the symbol of the hotel printed on them in white, on the side. He was wearing a white polo shirt, which was tucked into his pants. She imagined that this was emblazoned with the hotel signature too. It was only his belt that was something different, a pattern of red lobsters in a blue sea. Timothy always complained that she paid too much attention to little things. She never found a way to tell him that because he didn’t, he wouldn’t understand.
The valet stayed with his arms on his hips, looking out toward the path for cars coming in. After a while he said, I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude.
Courtney arched her shoulders.
Excuse me? she said.
Rude, he said. You know, when you don’t respond to something that someone says to you.
Courtney had that feeling that the human body secretes when it starts panicking, though it’s in no immediate danger. She started to open her mouth, then thought better of it.
Go on, the valet said. I can take it. But she pushed her hackles down, and the panicked feeling began to subside.
I see people like you fellas all the time, the valet said. Courtney wondered how old he might be. This hotel isn’t getting any newer. And northerners don’t tip, you know.
Is that true? Courtney said. That’s not true for us. My boyfriend tipped you when we left yesterday.
The valet raised his eyebrows. Boyfriend? he said. Aren’t you a little old for that?
Courtney thought she would feel the panicked feeling again, but she didn’t. Who even knows, she said.
The valet squinted lazily out onto the lawn, toward the dock. He pointed his thumb at the chair Courtney was sitting in, and said, You’re sitting right where Sean Penn was sitting.
Really? Courtney said.
Yep, he said. Last Christmas. Big Christmas party. The heat wasn’t working in the ballroom, so they put outdoor heaters into a tent out here, and there must have been a thousand people.
Good business, Courtney said.
Good tips, the valet said. When I got Sean Penn’s car, once he got in, he gave me five hundred dollars.
A good day, Courtney said.
The valet nodded. He was drunk, said the valet. But he was real friendly. He shook my hand. The valet showed her his palm, as if the touch were still there. Are you some kind of actress too? he said.