Chapter Text
Hot today. Really hot.
It’s one of those days that the weatherman warns about, all stern and frowny about ‘remaining indoors’ and ‘drinking plenty of water’. But the heat doesn’t bother Rey much, and today is grocery day, so she sets out on foot along the barren side of the highway anyway. It’s only two miles. She’ll be fine, and she and mom need food.
She follows the well-worn path through tough desert grasses and glances up every so often when a car barrels past, squinting at the license plate. The worst speeders are from the East Coast: New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut; places like that. Rey keeps a tally in her head and this one is another strike for Massachusetts—they’re the worst of the worst. She kicks a pebble with the tip of her sandal and shakes her head when they’re safely out of sight. They should slow down.
Tourists don’t stop in her town, though. It’s a pass-through to other, more exciting things, like the Grand Canyon, so they’re always in a big rush.
The heat starts to bug her just as she reaches the grocery store. She holds the door open for an old man exiting, and he thanks her, and she smiles and nods and slips inside. Instant relief. Rey shivers and rubs her arms and skips over a big crack in the floor that she’s tripped over half a dozen times. Smells like basement and bleach.
“Rey, we got that detergent your mom wanted.”
Colleen, one of the cashiers and one of mom’s friends, calls to her from the first aisle where all the cereal is. She looks at Rey over the rim of her glasses. She’s a lot older than mom. She used to be a teacher.
“Oh, okay.” Rey skips over and a tank top strap slips down her shoulder that she absentmindedly pulls back up. Colleen makes a face. “Did you guys get any more of those chip boxes? Mom likes them.”
“Where did you get that shirt?”
“I dunno. Walmart?”
“It doesn’t fit. Your boobs are gonna fall out the front.”
“I can just, um…” Rey pulls out the front of the shirt, which she pulled out of a garbage bin last week. “I can sew it. It’s fine.”
Colleen scoffs and slaps a cereal box on the shelf. She glances at a new customer entering the store.
“I’ll get you something tomorrow,” she mutters. “And why are you out walking around? You know how hot it is?”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“You got sunburn all down your arms.” Colleen grabs Rey’s arm and stretches it out. “All this tan skin is gonna get all wrinkly and ugly when you’re older, you know that? You gotta use sun block.”
“Mom told me it gets stronger the more you burn it.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna look like a fucking lizard when you’re her age, and she’s not even thirty.”
She tosses Rey’s hand away like she’s mad, and maybe she is, but not really mad. It’s a good time to go get the shopping done.
Rey picks up the usual stuff, like pasta and the cheapest ground beef she can find on sale, mom’s chip box multipack, fruit snacks because they seem healthy, and the cheap detergent. She sneaks tentatively down the cereal aisle at the end and Colleen hands her a box of Cheerios without looking at her.
“Already paid for them,” she says, terse. “I’ll meet you up at the register.”
It’s better not to make a big deal of it when Colleen does nice things. Then she gets annoyed and tells Rey to forget about it and waves her off with her bright pink nails. She scans all the items and Rey bags them, watching nervously. Her strap slips again and she hurriedly pulls it back up to her shoulder. Colleen is nice. Rey has known her for half her life; about seven years. Her daughter lives in Florida. They don’t talk.
“Sixteen dollars and fifty-three cents,” Colleen says. Rey hands her exact change and she pops open the till. “Where’s your mother at?”
“I think she’s coming home this afternoon.”
“Call me if she doesn’t. I’ll be up.”
Rey nods and pockets the rest of her money. She gathers up her bags and says goodbye, and Colleen tells her to stay safe.
The walk back is a little worse with having to carry stuff. But Rey manages, and she even sees a Vermont license plate speeding. That’s crazy.
Mom’s gray car is parked outside their room, and a couple neighbors are sitting out on lawn chairs, smoking and talking, doors wide open. They wave and Rey waves back. They’ve lived at this motel for a few years now. Rent is super cheap, and most of the tenants are nice, but occasionally someone weird passes through.
The television is on and mom’s brown purse is thrown on the floor next to her heels. Thankfully she went down the hall to sleep in her room and not on the pull out couch where Rey sleeps—sometimes she passes out there and it’s kind of annoying. Rey quietly closes the door and shuffles to the kitchen to put everything away. Mom comes in at weird, random times and she doesn’t like being woken up.
Most people in town work at the chemical plant and lots work night shift like mom does. She cleans. It’s either that or working at the grocery store.
Rey can’t work yet so she collects bottles and looks for cool stuff out in the desert behind the motel. Doesn’t usually pan out but once she found a gold chain and sold that for a lot of money. Bottle-collecting has steep competition and mom doesn’t like her going too close to the city. Somebody will grab you.
After the groceries are put away, Rey cleans. She washes the peeling brown countertops in the kitchen, scrubs the bathtub and sink, and dusts in the main living space where her bed is. She’ll vacuum when mom gets up. The carpet is plush and beige and all the dirt and junk gets stuck in the fibers, which is super gross. Not to mention the mystery stains. Ick.
It’s getting dark when mom wakes. Her bed creaks and she coughs twice.
Rey smiles and waves and mom waves back, yawning, then rubbing her face with both hands. They look really similar. People mistake them for sisters: same lanky limbs and freckles, same green eyes. But mom says Rey got her nose and her hair from her dad, whoever he is.
“Hey, baby,” mom murmurs, voice scratchy with sleep. “How are you?”
“Good. I got the detergent, and there’s leftover spaghetti if you want some.”
Mom kisses the top of her head and Rey closes her eyes and beams. She’s a good mom. She tries hard. She even homeschooled Rey for a few years, until she didn’t have time for it anymore.
“I’m going out to work tonight,” mom calls as she opens the fridge. “So don’t go far, okay? Lindsey told me some guy checked in a couple rooms down where Tina used to be.”
“Tina’s gone?”
“Yeah. Moved to Albuquerque.”
“Oh. She was nice.”
Mom nods and pops open the Tupperware of spaghetti. People come and go. It happens.
They sit together on the couch and watch TV while her mother eats. She’s too tired to talk much, and after she’s done she gets dressed for work and Rey does the dishes. She spends most of her nights alone. Not a lot of people her age around, and the city is too far to walk to.
Rey follows her mother out the door into the breezy night. Mom lights a cigarette, then kisses her forehead.
“Don’t wander off,” she says, raising her dark eyebrows. She takes a drag and exhales downwind. “Maybe tomorrow we can get pizza for dinner.”
“Really?”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
She leaves, waving one more time through the windshield. Rey waves back and stands watching her car disappear around the side of the building, melding into the endless black stretch of highway.
It’s a nice night to sit outside. Rey plops into their worn yellow folding chair and stretches out her legs. What did Colleen mean about her looking like a lizard? Tans are good. Pretty girls have tans. Sure she has some bruises and scars and stuff, but she doesn’t look like a lizard. Neither does mom.
Rey purses her lips and twists her leg up to her lap to examine her calf, pushing and pulling the skin with her thumb. Crickets chirp in the hedges and the faint scent of weed and cigarettes drifts from up the row. The yellow overhead light gives her a weird orange glow. That’s sort of lizard like.
A door creaks from the left. Rey looks up, still furrowing her brow.
There’s a man standing by Tina’s old room. He’s tall, big, and dressed in dark colors. Rey keeps staring as he lights a cigarette, cupping a hand around the flame, looking out at the highway. His hair is black. And he’s big.
It makes her queasy. Strange men make her nervous. She blinks at him anyhow, tilting her head, because he really doesn’t look like he belongs.
Then his eyes flicker to hers. Rey stiffens, and she keeps blinking and blinking. His cigarette glows red, and she realizes with a stroke of mortal terror that this big, strange man perceives her.
She unfolds instantly from her chair and dashes inside, heart pounding. She locks the door and draws the curtains, and she hides in her mother’s bed.
| | |
Mom hasn’t come back by morning, but that’s not unusual. Rey takes a shower and throws on her tank top and shorts, and she checks outside for the mysterious man before going out to hunt for bottles. Not that she’s scared or anything. He just didn’t have to look at her like that. He could’ve minded his own business.
It’s not as hot as the day before. She makes her way to the grocery store and finds a few cast-off Pepsi cans for her stash, and on the way back she adds a brand new water bottle someone threw out of their car onto the side of the highway. Must have been from Massachusetts.
Rey forgets all about the strange man by lunch time, and she wanders behind the motel in search of more booty. She starts up the sandy embankment but mom doesn’t like her going out into the desert, so she glumly comes back down and picks through the recycling cans instead. Bugs fly around her sweaty face and her hair sticks to her forehead. She swipes them away and digs down for an old glass Coke bottle that she holds up to the sun. It sparkles. Neat. Retro.
Behind her, a door opens and shuts.
Rey looks over her shoulder and her heart leaps. The strange man is back. He sits in his blue folding chair and lights a cigarette, and even though she stares, he doesn’t look at her this time. Rey swallows the lump in her throat as she examines him. He’s wearing dark colors again with big black boots and a thin gold chain hangs around his neck. He’s pale. He’s from out of town.
But he’s… interesting.
She wipes her hands on her red shorts and ties up her bottle bag. Even though she wants to puke, she walks towards him, then changes her path to walk in front of him instead. He ignores her and smokes his cigarette, rolling it between his index and middle fingers. If the heat bothers him, he’s really good at hiding it.
Rey hesitates, fiddling with the sticky plastic of her bottle bag. The sun beats down on her back and sweat beads at her nape.
“H-Hello,” she tries. His dark eyes flicker to her and he stares as she waves shyly, smiling. “Hello. I’m Rey. Me and my mom live in room ten. Did you just move in?”
He doesn’t respond. He stares. Her belly clenches. He’s definitely not from around here. She’s not used to seeing new people.
Rey swallows, glancing at his gold chain, then his hand resting on his thigh. Did he go to jail? Did he escape from jail? Maybe she shouldn’t have told him where she lives. But he already knows because he saw her last night. Maybe if she doesn’t seem scared, he won’t think she’s an easy victim.
“Well… it’s nice to meet you.” She waves again. “Have a nice day.”
She tries to look as not-scared as possible when she walks away. She has bottles to return, and it’s a hike to the return center.