Fiction: Arizona
by Cecily Harrison
After three straight days of driving cross-country, Barry and I decided to stop at a cheap motel and get some rest. We’d left New York on a Monday night and by Thursday, we were pretty beat. It was the end of July, and we’d taken the southern route, through Pennsylvania, Virginia, Tennessee, Texas, New Mexico and now Arizona, and I was beginning to feel like I was traveling in a space capsule. We’d been so hermetically sealed inside our air-conditioned van that the only time we breathed naturally was when we stopped for gas or when the cop pulled me over in Texas for speeding.
We were pretty amped, though, despite our exhaustion, once we rolled into Arizona. It was late afternoon and Barry and I wanted to see the Grand Canyon at sunrise, so we thought we’d grab dinner, a few drinks and thirty winks, then head out in the early morning. We turned onto a dirt road near the highway that had one gas station, a motel, one bar, and a Mexican restaurant. We decided we’d make a pit stop in each, and checked into a room on the second floor, overlooking the deserted swimming pool. I won the flip for the first shower.
The bedspreads in our room were thin and brown and every surface was either stainless steel or wood grain. The place was very clean despite the feel I got that it had seen many a traveler. There was absolutely nothing like a shower after three days. Luckily, the water pressure was good. I soaped up and rinsed off once for every day and later when I combed my hair, it squeaked like polished glass. Barry went in after me and left the door open while he peed, so I threw on jeans and a T-shirt and went outside. My hair dried in a minute and I kept running my hands through it, watching the sun set and breathing in that wonderful desert air that always reminds me of suntans, clear skies and long drives. I went down to the pool, brushed off one of the chaise longues with a towel and stretched out. The stars were starting to blink excitedly above me like a conversation, and when Barry came to get me, I felt like my mind had really gone somewhere. Barry had on his motorcycle jacket and I ran up to get mine, then we walked up the road to the bar.
Several guys with beards and long hair were playing pool and they stopped when Barry and I came into the bar. They said a couple of words to each other, then let out some gossipy laughter. We’d decided we were going to do shooters, so Barry ordered two Cuervo Golds and we sat down. Barry’s hair is dyed black and shaved on either side, leaving one big shiny hunk going down the back of his head, so we figured the guys were talking about that, then we did the shooters and that feeling that twists your nipples made us order another one. We were smiling and talking about our trip and asking the woman tending bar how the food was at the restaurant, when two of the guys walked up beside us. One of them said, “What do you think about a haircut like that, Jim?” and the other one said, “I’ve seen dogs do better.”
“Yeah,” said the other. “Maybe all it needs is a little bow by the ear.” They laughed, a good hearty one and Barry and I started feeling uneasy. I looked at my watch and said something like, “Wow, look how late it is and I’m starved,” and Barry pulled out some money and threw it on the bar. We got up and the guys stood in our way, so we walked around them like I’ve seen in a thousand westerns. It seemed like forever between the bar and the restaurant, but no one followed us.
The Mexican food was lousy but the margaritas were good and we had a laugh imitating those rednecks. When the alarm went off at four, no one could have been more reluctant to get out of bed, no matter how unfriendly the mattress was. Barry and I left our little strip in Arizona and headed for the Grand Canyon, where we just missed the sunrise but stood for a while, in awe, checking out that great place. We were so tired by this time—too tired even for beauty—that after about fifteen minutes, I looked at Barry and said, “You wanna get back on the road?” and he said, “Might as well.” We grabbed some breakfast to go and got back to it. We were in L.A. by nightfall. ♦