Chasing Sunrise

Seventeen

Amy squared her shoulders, picked up one of the cooling casserole dishes, and marched back around to the picnic tables. I quickly grabbed the other one and followed her and we got there just as half a dozen guys in their twenties swaggered up carrying what looked like six packs of beer.

"Hey!" snapped Gran. "What's in those?"

"It's root beer, Gran," said Pedro.

"Is it actually root beer?" Amy stormed over, put down her casserole dish, grabbed a bottle, opened it by smacking the cap against the edge of the table, and took a whiff.

"They twist off," said another of the guys, demonstrating with another bottle, then taking a deep swig.

"It's root beer," Amy confirmed.

Pedro was greeting his friends with slaps on the back.

Gran was still scowling at them.

Gina sidled up to me. "Yeah..." she muttered. She pointed to a trivet on the table for me to set down my casserole dish, which I did, lifting it high enough so that I didn't burn any one scurrying around.

"What's wrong?" I asked Gina, once I'd settled it in place and stepped back.

"It would be just like them to bring beer."

"Aren't they over twenty-one?" They certainly looked it to me.

"This is reservation land. Alcohol is illegal."

"It is?"

She was watching Pedro draw his friends off to the side, her lips pinched. "Yep. Prohibition never got repealed here. Or... I don't actually know if that's how it worked, but no booze on a rez."

Pedro was talking to his friends, several of whom glanced in our direction. After a few moments, they nodded, exchanged slaps on the back again, and went back to their truck, Pedro with them.

As they climbed in (some back in the bed) and pulled away, raising a cloud of dust, Amy scowled. This whole tamale making party was for Pedro, and he'd just taken off.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Gran resumed serving tamales and everyone fell back into the rhythm of talking and laughing, though Amy stayed silent as she drew me over to the table to get my own plate and tamales.

"These are the less spicy ones," she said.

They were amazing. My first forkful brought an explosion of taste across my tongue. There was the hearty grit of the cornmeal, the sharp bite of the chile, and the meaty richness of the pork all mixed together.

I chased it with a mouthful of punch and shut my eyes, savoring it all.

The picnic benches were soon all occupied by the older set, several of whom walked with canes and walkers, and the youngest children who piled onto their laps. Amy and I went over to where Gina stood and ate our meal there.

"Yeah, so you think they're all right?" Gina quipped, nodding at my plate of rapidly disappearing tamales.

"Yeah," I said. "So good."

"I'm not sure if it's the horno, or just all the work that goes into them," she said. "I mean, things taste better when you have to expend effort, you know?"

"I wouldn't know, actually." I wondered if the view wasn't a factor, though. From where we stood we took in an expansive vista of the valley with a few other houses with metal roofs in the middle distance. The sky arched high overhead, wisps of cloud-like daubs of paint in an oil painting, and the sun was starting to set the horizon on fire.

"Like when you hike up into the mountains and make Cup O'Soup?" said Gina. "Tastes amazing even though it's the same stuff."

"I've never carried my own food on a hike," I confessed. "Call me sheltered."

But Gina only shrugged.

Amy wasn't paying attention to us, but rather frowning after her brother and the small cloud of dust generated by that powder-blue truck, speeding off into the distance.

"He'll be fine," Gina said to her.

"I hate those guys." Amy stabbed at her tamale. "Bunch of creeps."

*

We stayed until the sun set and the first stars appeared in the royal-blue sky above. I couldn't stop staring at the gorgeous tones the heavens took on as the sun said farewell. It almost eased my nervousness about being out after dark. Almost.

I'd managed the bus trip from New York with its overnight legs and survived every sunrise, but back then I didn't know what kind of fire I was playing with.

The uneaten tamales were packed into disposable tupperwares and I was given one, something I worked hard not to cry over, it was such a kindness.

Gina and I piled into her compact car and soon we were bumping our way back to the main road.

"Thanks for the ride," I said.

"Yeah, of course. I'm glad you could come."

"Me too."

"Pretty different from New York?"

"You could say that." I laughed and she joined in.

The crystal hanging from her rearview mirror clacked against the windshield as we turned onto the paved road, where Gina was able to speed up.

The sky was growing darker and the stars were getting brighter and more numerous. I angled my gaze as far upward as I could through the closed car window and wondered if I'd be able to sleep tonight. On one hand, I was spent. On the other, I wasn't sleepy. If I had another wakeful night, I'd at least have some new happy memories to keep me company. I'd felt family around me again, even if it wasn't my family.

"I need to fill up," said Gina.

The dark amber lights of a gas station were visible in the near distance. "Do you want me to pay?" I asked.

"What? No." She snorted.

I figured pushing it might only insult her. The car glided from the darkness into the harsh lights over the fuel bays and she guided it to a pump. When she got out, I figured I would, too. If she wouldn't let me pay, maybe I could wash the windows or something.

She put the nozzle in the gas tank, started it pumping, then said, "I need to use the bathroom."

I watched her stride away towards the bluish, fluorescent lights of the attached convenience store.

The temperature was cold, of course, but I found it rather pleasant. I went to get the squeegee for the windows and found that it was missing. I peered over at the next set of pumps over, squinting in the dimness to see if the squeegee for that one was there.

A group of guys came out of the convenience store, laughing and shoving each other in a way that was meant to seem like good fun, but looked rather a lot like a show of dominance.

One of them stopped and looked at me.

Pedro stepped out behind them. "Hey, Liana!" he called out.

I waved.

"Liana, is it?" said the guy who'd been staring at me.

I couldn't make out much about him other than his silhouette. He was tall and muscular and had longish hair. He wasn't just looking at me, though. He was leering.

My blood should have run cold. I should have worried about my safety. But that wasn't what happened. Instead all my sleepless nights caught up with me and I felt my body begin to change. I could smell the scent of these guys' warmth in the rapidly cooling night. My stomach growled with a new kind of hunger I'd never felt before.