Nonprofits in the No Tell Motel
I told the kids we were going out and coming back late.
I can’t believe I let him talk me into doing this. A casual suggestion to do a little something different, something unplanned, un peu risque for a midweek date -I am intrigued and worried at the same time. After twenty five years of marriage, three kids and a second opinions for every doctor’s appointment, for me an act of risk is going outside with my hair wet so of course, I said OK. We were on vacation, what could be so bad?
G00d, I don’t want them to know what we’re doing.
Or throw a party.
The place we’re going to is known locally as the No Tell Motel and we knew a woman from the neighborhood who told us that was where she and her lover would meet and now, here we are. Just like everybody else looking for a few private hours and just like everything in life, there is a method to this madness, a protocol of private affairs.
What better place for two exhausted nonprofit professionals to add a little zip to a relationship, to reboot a romance or simply escape into a getaway experience than your local cash only motel? So, do you walk in together? Do you say hello if you recognize someone – now that would be interesting! Someone should really write a field guide for situations like this.
Where do people park? Right in front of the place across the street from Bella Frutta? What if all those moms waiting for their kids at Fazio’s Dance Studio look out the window? Oh my God, they might see me and then what?!!? They’ll think we’re sneaking around.
But we’re married and sneaking around. That’s acceptable.
Did he really just say that?
Until you get caught. Men… you are all alike.
So, you want to wait in the parking lot?
Seth got out to register leaving me surrounded by other women in parked cars checking their looks in the mirror and putting on dark sunglasses. One by one they picked up their cellphones and got out of their cars pivoting on their stilettos and disappearing into the back door of the motel. I made up a little game trying to guess what the story was behind each tryst. “She’s his secretary, no – his best friend’s secretary and he probably told his wife he was at a golf outing. And that one is thinking how clever he is, never going for a friend of his wife or a wife of a friend. ” My observations were cut short by the ringing of my cellphone. The woman in the car next to me smiled knowingly. How dare she think I was a cliche, one of those Other Women Waiting In Cars? I am a married woman, an executive director, and clearly someone indignant about being noticed as, well, a woman waiting for a phone call. I glared back and suddenly realized by the ring on her finger that she was married too – and probably a non profit arts administrator. We could exchange business cards. I barked an angry hello into my phone.
Wait til you see the room! It’s got this huge Jacuzzi and mirrors everywhere.
I asked the guy if you need to make reservations, he just smiled and said no. Its mostly a walk – in, short stays, bring your own champagne and cash kind of business.
You brought champagne?
Just a little something to relax us before I turn into a love machine, my darling.
Suddenly, Seth’s voice became a large growly sort of rumble. It slowly grew into a low roar.
I could not catch a single word he was saying.
What’s going on? Are you OK?
Sorry, that was the ice machine.
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