2024

Elsewhere Motel

           As the sun rose outside, its light reached an angle that the cheap motel room’s old curtains could not block out. It reflected off of the desert sand and the old sign that likely hadn’t had a lit up “NO” on its vacancy indicator in years, if ever. The sunlight crawled across the bed, and the moment it reached the guest’s eyes, she stirred.

           Vanni’s morning ritual began again, starting with a glance at her room’s alarm clock. She never used its primary function, nor had she set an alarm on her phone for quite some time. She would have slept in if she could; she certainly had become familiar with some light insomnia on the other end. That is to say, her sleep schedule was poor and had been for months, and it left her groggy and irritated in the morning.

           She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone from its charger. No new messages, of course. Not at seven in the morning while most people she knew still slept. Her eyes lingered on the dots indicating unread texts. Contacts who reached out the most seemed perpetually at the top of her message list, but she only ever skimmed the snippets of their recent attempts at chatting. Snippets remained all she could handle.

           From Rachel, her best friend growing up: “Hey, Van. When do you think you’ll be back in Royal…” Rachel’s slightly younger cousin Alex had one just under it, which read: “Found this quote yesterday. More platitudes, I know, but…” And then from Fynn, her high school band’s guitarist whom she hadn’t seen in person in a long time. “I might be back in RV sometime this year. Hit me up if…”

           And under all those were equally unread messages from the three parents in her life and some other friends and acquaintances she had made across the Southwest. One text stood out, though, and the first thing she felt all morning was a bit of jumpiness in her gut after seeing it. “Your rent is now past due. Please pay within three days or…”

           She groaned, rubbed her eyes, and grabbed her laptop from the nightstand’s little cubby. It wasn’t that she couldn’t pay for her small apartment back in Los Angeles; the act of doing so just slipped her mind sometimes. It wasn’t like she’d been there recently.

           After plugging her nearly-drained laptop into her phone charger, which would need a long time to get it back to full, she logged into a payment site and transferred the money from her account. Done, she thought. Today’s big accomplishment. Now I’ll take it easy.

           She fell back onto the thin pillows and rested her eyes. It only took her a minute to accept that more sleep wouldn’t come. The time had come again to do anything at all.

           After showering and getting dressed, Vanni emerged from the two-story motel, squinting despite already wearing shades. The world was coming to life, and a few of the other guests were out and enjoying the cool morning air. Having no need to look both ways, she crossed the empty main road, passing by the sign for the largest inn around for many miles. An independent operation, it was called The Cap; a play on the words “Devil’s Knee.” For a small town in the middle of nowhere in Arizona, the name fit.

           The truck stop and diner across from it, where two semis were parked, was open eighteen hours a day and had some posted pleasant greetings above its door times.

           “Mornin’ Vanni,” the older of the two waitresses welcomed her in as she passed by with a tray of someone’s breakfast and coffee. “Just started brewing another pot.”

           Once known as outgoing, Vanni kept quiet, found a booth, and slid into the seat, as usual choosing a spot where she could keep an eye on her bike parked by her room.

           “Menu this morning?” asked the younger waitress as she dangled it above Vanni.

           “Coffee and pancakes. Scrambled eggs this time. Oh, and… lots of ice water.”

           “You’re really keeping us in business, ya know?” the thirty-something said with her small-town humble smile. “Gonna be a sad day when you finally move on.” As she left to give the order to the kitchen, she passed by a gruff, bearded man who had just come in to join the other gruff bearded men in the joint. Unlike them, he rode only on four wheels. “Mornin’, Sheriff. Still running low on mushrooms for omelets.”

           “That’s all right, Helen. Wife’s put me back on a diet. Coffee and hash browns will do. Might need two cups today—that boy gifted me a surprise late shift again.”

           “Sorry about that, Chester. Didn’t think a kid his age could be so much trouble.”

           “Aw, he’s not so bad. Just gets bored and calls going out late at night and scaring his mother ‘exploring.’ Little guy seems to have no fear. Not always a good thing.”

           The officer, who was nearing retirement age and too old to be chasing after brats, sauntered past Vanni and dropped into a booth a few tables away. She knew who he was talking about. Just visiting the diner at least once a day had given her insight into half the town’s daily little troubles and lesser happenings, it felt like.

           Service at the Sunset Diner was locally renown to be speedy, and the meal was brought over five minutes after Vanni ordered. As she fed her coffee a single cream, she took renewed notice of the stubborn spot on her shirt, and recalled what day it was.

           Within walking distance of the motel was a general store, its attached gas station, and the laundromat neighboring it. Open doors and a few standing fans kept it tolerable inside. Vanni was the only customer, but wasn’t alone; as she carried her laundry bag to a washing machine and bought some detergent, she kept an eye on the Native American lad who stole glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, between taps on an old iPad while he dangled his legs off the side of one of the top-loading washers.

           This was among Vanni’s favorite laundromats, for one main reason. After tossing in a small load—her laundry day outfit being a baggy old Black Sabbath shirt and torn jeans—she went to the “40 Games in 1” compilation arcade machine in the corner. Best of all, it was set up for free play, making it one excuse among many for staying in town.

           On a Q*Bert kick, she opened the classic isometric game determined to beat the fourth place record she earned the week before. After waiting to see the high-score list, she was a little perplexed to find that BEN was now in places five through eight. Instead of playing, she turned to the boy. After hesitating for a moment, she walked over.

           “Hey. Kid. Your name wouldn’t happen to be Ben, would it?”

           He lowered his tablet, stopped moving his legs, and said timidly, “Are you mad?”

           “Mad…? Ah, so that is you. Trying to beat my score, huh?” Vanni crossed her arms and gave him a tiny smirk. “That must mean you were watching me last week.”

           “Um, kinda. You were really into it, so… I thought the game must’a been good.”

           “Are you the boy giving the sheriff a hard time with your running away?”

           He shrugged. “I don’t run away. I just like to go out and explore. Not much else to do around here… Also, my name’s not really Ben, but everyone calls me Benji.”

           “Benji. Heh, I always liked that movie. Ever seen it? With the dog, from the 70s?”

           He shook his head. “That sounds really old. Was that when you were a kid?”

           “Not quite. I’m as young as Gen-Xers come. That means I grew up in the 80s.”

           “Oh. So almost not really old.” He looked at Vanni’s chosen washing machine. “How come you only use the small ones every Saturday? Don’t you got more clothes?”

           “I ride and travel light, whatever fits in my backpack. Five shirts, three pants… And I have no idea why I’m sharing this. I must be used to nosy kids,” she groaned.

           Benji counted on his fingers and replied. “Five shirts… but seven days in a week.”

           Vanni returned to the games, grumbling, “Benji, don’t talk about a girl’s laundry.”

           Almost as soon as Vanni got back to her motel room with clean clothes, she took a call from her biological mom, who still lived in Royal Valley and could be… a lot.

           “I’m doing fine, Mom. You don’t need to worry so much about me,” Vanni tried to assure her as she paced around the room. “Yes, still the same motel. Uh-huh. Three weeks… Well, why not here? It’s got wi-fi, so it’s just as good as anywhere else.”

           She groaned as her nervous wreck of a mom started up another rant, which soon made her feel suffocated within the room’s confines. She headed out, back into the heat and blinding sun, and made her way over to the vending machines that may have been there since the 70s. By the time she got a soda and snack, her mom finally took a breath.

           “That’s great, Mom. But it has nothing to do with me being here… What? I don’t know, the 1960s? It’s one of those places that’s stuck in the decade it was built. If you’re so interested, come out and see it for yourself. Devil’s Knee, Arizona. Seriously, that’s the name. I don’t know if it’s one of those motels that kicks you out after a month. Maybe I’ll find out. Because, I’m just not ready. I need time. Christ, this again? Could we not?”

           By now, Vanni had already finished her stale peanut butter Ritz Bits. She leaned against the barrier for the stairs and watched the traffic go by, ignoring her aging mom’s life tips. She’d heard it all before, and had likely given it to others just as often herself.

           “Yeah. I’ll call my LA parents… Tonight, fine. I promise,” she lied. “You stress me out, you know that? You’re making me want to have my monthly cigarette right now.” She heard something that really offended her, and snapped, “No, Mom, I’m still not on anything ‘recreational.’ God sake, which of us has been in rehab twice? … Mom? Hello?”

           She muttered angrily under her breath, pocketed her phone, and while her hand was in there, took out the single smoke she kept on her person. Like after most chats with her birth parent, she was very tempted to light it up. Until she noticed a familiar boy in the corner of her eye. She turned to see Benji, and pocketed the cig.

           “My dad smokes a lot of those,” he said matter-of-factly. “His house is stinky.”

           “Did you follow me all the way here? You didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

           He shrugged. “I go everywhere. If I talked to my mom like that, she’d be mad.”

           Vanni scowled. “They just let kids wander around here like it’s still the 80s…”

           “Um. Could you teach me how to play some of those arcade games sometime?”

           Vanni’s heart skipped a beat, but she had to reply, “Sorry, Benji. I got work.”

           With the TV playing whatever movies the people at HBO chose to schedule during the day on in the background at a very low volume, Vanni entered her fifth hour of remote work on her trusty old laptop. Its screen full of windows of bright text on dark backgrounds, she gave her straining eyes a moment of rest, stretched on the bed, and upon seeing the orange colors of a sunset under the curtains, let out a yawn.

           That was when a message notification hit the upper right corner of the desktop. She assumed that Rachel or Alex had texted her again, but this time, it was her younger cousin; one of the few people her extended family was worried about more than Vanni. She seldom reached out, so Vanni knew she shouldn’t be selfish and ignore this one.

           “Cuz, what are you up to? You’re on my mind today,” Tristin said. Likely in one of her more manic states, she followed up before Vanni could reply, “Still in Arizona? Did you make it to Charlotte’s yet, or are you on your way back? I kind of envy your nomadic lifestyle. Must be nice to live without all the schedules and anchors.”

           “I do have some schedules,” Vanni typed back. “Got another hour of work.”

           “Still doing help desk stuff for that one company, or did you move on?”

           Vanni took a breath and huffed before responding, “I help train AI text models at the moment. Not proud of it, but it’s impersonal. I need a break from people.” She then quickly added, “Not family and friends. Just in general.”

           “You? Being impersonal? I’ll be sad if that lasts too long, Van.” And then, “It’s my last year at Royal U, if you didn’t remember. Wish you were here, showing me how to party or unwind or something. I get lost in my head. And I feel so socially inept.”

           “Sorry to hear that, Tris. It’s easy to get in a rut. We’ll hang out next time I’m in town and I’ll help you with that. Assuming I’m feeling up for it myself. Still at motel.”

           “I miss him. Both of you. And my LA visits from when I was a kid. Always had fun at the places you two took me to. I didn’t expect to feel like this for so long.”

           Vanni typed out, “I know. I miss him, too.” Only to hover a finger over the ‘enter’ key in hesitation. She quickly deleted it and sent instead, “It’ll get better.”

           “Could you maybe tell me why you’re still in Devil’s Knee? Is there more to see there than I saw on Google? Or are you on some, like, spiritual journey in the desert?”

           No reply was sent for about a minute, but Vanni wasn’t cruel enough to ghost her, so she eventually typed, “Sorry, need to get back to work. Then dinner. Talk later.”

           Vanni made the half-mile trek to the old-fashioned bar closer to town on foot, which was on a small hill from where most of the lights of the small town could be seen. Weary of the lightning in the distance as she left her room, she had brought an umbrella.

           The Rough and Tumble was as busy as it had been the previous Saturday night, and remained a decent enough place for bar food and drinks. It had a modern juke box with a touch screen, a collection of classic neon signs that were mostly at least halfway-dead, and agreeable enough regulars. If there was a typical arcade cabinet in the venue, she definitely would’ve already spent too much time and money here.

           “Burger, fries, and a Miller Lite, sweetie,” the waitress said with a pleasant twang as she placed Vanni’s dinner on her table off in the corner. “You know, I’ve been seeing you around town, and you really should drop by on Fridays, when we have live music.”

           “Mm, I’ll think about that,” Vanni, who hadn’t been in the mood to enjoy other bands playing for many months, lied again. “Oh—could you bring me a single shot of tequila with a splash of soda, with the check? I… might forget to ask later.”

           “Sure thing, hon. Hey… mind if I ask where you’re from? You strike me as a big city gal. I see them here every once in a while, traveling from Vegas to Phoenix or back.”

           While not being asked was preferable, Vanni wasn’t callous enough to deny an answer for a nice and curious server, and replied, “Los… Uh, Royal Valley, actually.”

           “Royal Valley? Oh, for real? Shoot, I went to King Arcade once when I was a girl. Not the biggest city, I ’spose, but a lot more than our eight-hundred or so. All right, you enjoy the beef, and I’ll bring you your Cuervo in a bit. And drop by Friday. Seriously.”

           Once she walked off, Vanni bit into a medium-well patty and browsed another kind of local menu, even if she had no intention or motivation to ask anyone back to her room. Most of the guys were on the older side or too muscular. There was a music-lover about her age in a leather jacket, trapped by his inability to pick a song at the juke. If she was going to talk to anyone, it’d be him, if only to maybe have a rigorous debate about albums and bands, or how music streaming services sucked. She missed such chats.

           Ultimately, he left the bar with his indecision, never picking a song for whatever occasion he was here for. Vanni scarfed down her burger, took a shot of Mexico’s finest, and feeling a buzz but very rarely letting herself get drunk, returned to the night alone. Outside, thunder was following the lightning closely, and the air smelled of petrichor.

           Halfway back to her room as she walked along the main road on its cracked sidewalk, the rain came in suddenly and fast, partially drenching her before she could get the umbrella open. Within minutes, the wind picked up enough to nearly blow it out of her hand. She used to love the rain; thunderstorms were the best. But now, she did her best to block them out—which was especially difficult while being outside and in one.

           After cornering a hill, The Cap’s glowing sign promised refuge. She ran the rest of the way, giving her battered bike a glance before fumbling the key and slipping into her room as it began to come down in buckets. Upon tossing her soaked umbrella to the corner, she realized her heart was pounding worryingly fast. Muscles were constricted, and sweat dampened her clothes more than the rain. Recognizing it as a panic attack, she took deep breaths to steadily calm down. The rain can’t hurt you, she thought, on repeat.

           Once she was clearheaded, she pumped up the heat on the room’s buzzing AC unit to dry things out and went to the bathroom. With trembling hands, she turned on its light and dropped pills from two containers into an open palm: a single melatonin supplement, and one from an orange prescription bottle. Reluctantly, she then doubled up on the latter for the night. I never expected rain of all things to become a trigger.

           She returned to the bed, waiting for the sleep aid to take effect. Her laptop was fully charged by now, and she opened it up, turned the brightness way down, and after a bit of doomscrolling, with live music still on her mind, she did some browsing of nearby postings. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing too close, nor was she all that serious about doing a gig. Even so, she knew she had to make some effort to get out of her rut, and this long motel stay was beginning to make a noticeable impact on her finances.

           One post stuck out, and she clicked. As her eyes skimmed it, she sounded out the details to make them more real in her tired state, “Tomorrow. Boulder City. Must know AC/DC, Soundgarden, Van Halen… Mm-hm… Mötley Crüe? Been a while, but… screw it,” she muttered and started composing a response before she was too far gone.

           Once she’d finished, she closed the lid, tossed the laptop to the end of her bed, and shut her eyes—only to feel an urgent buzz from her phone. Nearly blinding herself in the process, she saw the “flash flood warning for the following counties” message. At least we’re on a hill, she thought plainly and turned off the screen. I’m right where I need to be.

           The rain lasted through the night, making for a restless sleep. But she was safe.

           When Vanni stepped out of her room the next morning, the weather was cooler than usual following the rain. Deep puddles were plentiful, and she let out a groan upon seeing her bike partially submerged in the muddy desert sand where it was parked.

           Following breakfast, she used the last of her small bottle of cleaning fluid she had gotten from the general store, a bucket of water, and a sponge to fix up her only baby in life: a modified classic black Honda motorcycle from the early 1990s. It wasn’t long until Benji had come by yet again, and repeatedly offered to help her with the work.

           “Fine, but just the chrome,” she relented and gave him the sponge. She squirted stuff for the leather seat onto a microfiber cloth and rubbed it in thoroughly. “You still sneaking out late and worrying your mom? And why? Is your dad okay with it?”

           “I like the desert at night, and sometimes I accidentally walk too far from home is all… You should try it! But my dad lives on the reservation. He’s more strict about it.”

           “Swirling motion on that spot—that’s the best way to get rid of those. So, would that be the… Hualapai you’re a part of? Just guessing, since they’re the closest.”

           Benji nodded. “But I go to school here. I do lots of afterschool stuff, too…”

           “Yeah, well, you do seem to get bored easily,” Vanni said, finishing her cleaning.

           “It’s so soft…” Benji murmured, patting the seat as she wrung the cloth.

           “Benji, don’t!” she snapped, startling him a little. “That stuff… has to settle.”

           “S-sorry,” he said meekly after flinching, like any kid used to getting yelled at.

           Vanni sighed and rubbed her eyes. “No—I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I have a really short temper at times.” She checked her chrome. “You did a good job, Benji.”

           “It’s okay. I know you get angry sometimes, but you seem like a good person. Mom says people who are hurt can be like that… Did someone hurt you?”

           “You are way too precocious. Anyway, it doesn’t make it right. I try not to…” She noticed how he was looking at her, and admitted as she dumped out the water, “Not too long ago, something really sad happened to me. But you don’t need to hear about that.”

           “That’s okay, too. Since I helped, can you show me some games now?”

           “I… I don’t know, Benji. I have a gig—uh, I have to go play some drums up in Boulder City, and I need to be there for practice by three, so I’m kind of busy…”

           He checked his little watch. “But it’s eight in the morning.”

           Not seeing a way out, Vanni moaned, “Fine… If the laundromat’s not flooded.”

           “Dang it!” Benji said as his adventurer was again devoured by crocodiles. “Why can’t I swing over this stupid pond? Why is this dumb Pitfall game so hard?”

           Coaching from the side of the cabinet, Vanni explained, “Old arcade games were tough and often precise. They wanted your quarters. But, ya know, that just means you’ll impress your friends one day if you get good at them. Still, don’t keep playing if you get frustrated. You’ll stop learning anything. Let’s move onto 1942—you should like it.”

           Benji pressed the button to return to the main menu and replied as he navigated the forty onboard titles, “It’s all right if they’re hard. At least they don’t ask for coins.”

           “Well, yeah, it’s a free-to-play unit. You don’t need to quit if you’re out of them.”

           “No, I mean how iPad games have annoying pop-ups that ask you to buy stuff like coins to get more lives, or skip hard parts. And I don’t get it!” he ranted a bit as he started flying a bomber on the screen. “My classmates don’t mind that kind of thing!”

           Vanni couldn’t help but smirk warmly. “We might be kindred spirits, Benji…”

           “Thanks, I guess? Hehe, this one is fun. And you’re good at teaching games.”

           Watching Benji unleash destruction in the top-down shooter, Vanni replied, “I’ve had experience. The arcades back home were my scene. I bet a lot of the old cabinets still have my initials…” She let out a wistful sigh, then checked the time. “Last game, kiddo. I need to get going.” Upon seeing his frown, she added, “I’ll rev my bike for you, okay?”

           Back at the motel, Benji alternated between smiling excitedly at the thrill of the rumbling engine, and squeezing his ears more tightly with his hands to muffle the louder sounds. Keeping the RPMs low as to not kick up mud and splatter the kid, Vanni got the motorcycle going and did a couple of donuts in the lot for his entertainment.

           “Be safe, buddy,” she said before slipping her helmet on and taking off down the road, departing the town with a few final engine revs and a backpack on her shoulders.

           Service was spotty out in the desert, but the streaming service came through at least most of the ride on the road to Boulder City, Nevada, about an hour and a half away. What actually irritated Vanni more was the algorithm of the “random” shuffle.

           “Skip,” she grumbled into her Bluetooth-equipped helmet as Van Halen’s Jump started playing through the speakers. “Skip that, too. Next. Skip it… Hey, idea: just skip everything you’ve played a thousand times already. No, keep trying… Skip… Skip…”

           Boulder City may have been a small one, but it felt like a metropolis compared to Devil’s Knee. For a few moments, Vanni stared at the parking meter by the bar like it was a new invention. She ended up driving a few blocks away and finding a free spot.

           She saw her bandmates for the night as soon as she set foot in the establishment simply known as Leo’s. The three guys who were around her age were still setting up on the stage, and looked at her with some relief; their drummer had shown up after all, so now they had their beat and the gig was saved. Not that Vanni ever flaked on anyone.

           “Well shit, that really is Vanni,” said the youngest of the three, a keyboardist, and left the stage to greet her. “Should’ve known it was you—not the most common of names, is it? Remember me…? Evan? We played together last year, Ball Pit BBQ.”

           “Oh, yeah.” Vanni agreed to a fist bump. “You’d just left… Motel Art Gallery?”

           “Yeah. BBQ broke up, though. Then Couch Fortress Architects went next.”

           “You two done catching up yet?” the guitarist frontman groaned and brought over the set list. “Here, Vanni. We’re playing sixteen songs. How many do you know?”

           She scanned the list. “Hm… Ah, well, I can do about half by heart. Six, I’ll need some practice on. Last two, we better start with. Not as familiar. Heard ’em, sure.”

           “Good enough. And are you okay with the order? I can make some adjustments.”

           “Looks fine to me. It’s just… We’re really opening with Kickstart My Heart?”

           “Uh-huh. The opening riff is my specialty. I don’t negotiate on that; it doesn’t matter how ‘played out’ our temp drummers think it is. You allergic to the hits?”

           “No…” Vanni sighed in irritation, and took her sticks out of her pack. She went over to her drums for the night and gave the hi-hat a pedal test. “Okay, let’s get started.”

           At precisely six o’clock, the guitarist went up to the mike—nearly shoving past his bassist on the way—and spoke to the audience at the mostly-full dive, “Hey, thanks for coming out this evening! We’re Faded Poster Child, and we’re here to rock some ass.”

           Vanni, having never heard that one before, had to raise an eyebrow at the remark, and also fit in an eye roll and a shake of the head before the hard rock classic called for her drums. Regardless of how she felt about the band, money was money, and she’d never lose her passion for music. So, like always, she put her all in for the gig and joined the crowd on a ninety minute-odyssey as her sweat took to the air under the lights.

           Her heart still settling down about a hundred minutes after they began, Vanni nursed her second beer with Evan and the bassist at the bar. The guitarist, who may have nearly blown out his cords by the last few songs, was playing pool and schmoozing with some of the crowd’s younger ladies—it all being relative, as most everyone seemed to be a fellow Gen-Xer, albeit on the older sider compared to Vanni; a familiar audience.

           “This group won’t last,” the bassist said with a Cockney grunt and gulped down some ale. “Not with us in’it. Man’s a proper prick, thinking he’s some real hot shite.”

           Vanni, nearly choking on a sip, replied, “I didn’t know you were British, Felix. Hey, you should do the vocals. Turn Poster Child into a punk band.”

           Evan laughed. “He’s playing up the accent. Guy immigrated when he was six. But he’s probably right. Josh is too full of himself.” He turned to Vanni. “You, though… I mean, you were a bit fast, maybe a little too aggressive, but you’re good. You remind me of our drummer from my high school band. Shag Carpet Apocalypse. Played like he had a weight on his shoulders. And I don’t remember you sounding like that last time.”

           Vanni’s own shoulders drooped a little, and she murmured, “The last year’s been hard on me. And I don’t like talking about it… I know that’s the problem, but…”

           “Hey, no need to get into it with strangers,” Evan assured her. “Oh, and, here. I handle the pay,” he added and took out a small roll of twenties from his jeans. “If Josh has it, he’s liable to blow it on those old touch screen gambling games, ’specially when we play in Nevada.” He gestured to the unit by the bar, which had tempted Vanni, a little.

           “Thanks,” she muttered and pocketed the cash. “God, I miss my garage band days. That was the good stuff. Just chilling, playing with your friends, when all you got are some nebulous ‘making it to the big time’ dreams. And then you get in the zone, but you’re interrupted by your pesky…” she stopped herself. “Yeah. The good times.”

           “Cheers to ’em,” Felix mumbled and half-raised his glass. “If bands have some sort of collective soul, then I hope the one for our My Other Band is a Cult is rocking out in heaven. Lost all contact with my old mates. So much just fades away.”

           After some reflection, Vanni asked, “Is the tattoo parlor next door open late?”

           Evan replied, “Yeah—nine, I think. The guy there is good. He does all mine.”

           Vanni got up before she changed her mind. “I should stop in… Thanks for the set, guys.” She finished off her beer. “Maybe we’ll, ah… play again together sometime.”

           Upon seeing a man already seated in the parlor’s chair, who seemed to be about at the end of getting art added to his upper arm, Vanni got busy waiting outside. Boulder City had altitude and a nice late evening view of Las Vegas’s lights in the distance. But her hands were jittering, ruining the moment. She stared at them, as if ordering them to stop. When they didn’t obey, she finally took out her one cigarette and a metal lighter.

           She knew it was bad for her, sure, but having a single cig a month whenever the moment, time, and place felt just right had become a tradition. Unhealthy as it was, they did calm her nerves some and give her a few minutes of clarity. It wasn’t the old familiar sting of the needle that gave her the anticipatory shakes; it was the meaning behind what she was about to. There would be a finality in getting the tattoo past the ink.

           “Thanks, Mel. Ya outdid yourself tonight,” the customer said as he headed out.

           “You come back soon, dude,” the artist replied in a deep, gravelly voice, and held the door open for Vanni. “Miss, if you’re waiting to get inked, I close in an hour.”

           “That’s fine,” she replied with a cough, tossing her spent cig. “It’s a small one.”

           “All right, so what can I do for ya?” Mel asked as she put her jacket on a rack and took a seat in her tank top. “Hey, nice gallery. Dig your style. Where’d you get all these?”

           “All over. I make them part of road trips… So they also tell a story of a journey.” Once he got set up, Vanni slipped him a crumpled note. “These are… the words. I got a spot way up here,” she said, pointing near her left shoulder. “First time I’m getting one of these. It can be simple. But… nice, you know? I… I need to make it finally feel real.”

           Mel looked up from the note with a sympathetic expression. “Hey, sorry for your loss. It’s rough, I get it. I lost one of mine a few years back. But this will help, I swear.”

           “Yeah, I don’t really want to get into it. Like I implied… I have a long way to go.”

           “It’s fine; we can chit-chat about other things, or not at all.” Mel dabbed the spot in alcohol. When he got to work, he started his ‘distract from the pain’ banter with, “Did that happen to be your band playing Leo’s? You look like a rocker. I got no choice but to listen, bad or good. Thin walls.” When Vanni nodded after flinching from the first bite, he added, “Well, the crowd seemed to like ya. Me and my boys play there on occasion. ’Course, we’re on the older side, mostly stick to the 70s. Look us up next time you’re in town. The Sheps. Anyway…” He spoke a little more loudly over the buzzing of the needle, “Wife says I should sell my guitar, but the history on that beauty, I tell ya…”

           After having only caught a glimpse of her new tat in Mel’s mirror before it was sealed in sterile wrap and covered by a leather jacket, Vanni hit the road to head home, or the closest thing to it. The return trip felt far longer, and the spaces between the mile markers soon seemed like long stretches of empty nothingness. The tattoo burned under her sleeve, as if screaming for fresh air. But she had none to spare; not when she was seemingly suffocating herself under the helmet… yet also chilled to every emotion.

           She stopped the music closer to town, as her phone had five percent battery left and if it ran out and she got lost on empty, dark, desert roads, she’d be in trouble. She barely listened to whatever the speakers played, anyway; skips had been few all night.

           When it became just her and the constant loud purr of her bike under a cloudy sky, her mind began to wander to places she had more and more difficulty blocking out. Memories… The bad ones, the good ones, those she once considered a blessing—they all wanted out of their gilded cage. It was better to leave that cage in a locked room, she thought. I’ll always have the key. I can reopen the door when I’m ready. When I’m ready…

           Her mind drifted to a hospital bed. A young man, at least in her mind, was there, giving her a reassuring smile after telling her he’d be fine. Sure you will, she had thought, or told him—it was hard to remember for certain. You’ve gotten out of tougher places.

           Then came the most intrusive memory, the interrupter, the wave that showed up out of nowhere and crushed the present under its weight. It arrived with a phone call during a rainstorm, as drops hit her windowpane harshly and four words repeated like a mantra; words she had tried to bury, with no luck. “There were some complications.”

           For a brief moment, another image flashed: an outdoor service, and her standing alongside a portrait she couldn’t bear to look at. Old friends, waiting for her to speak…

           A shape in the road, moving clumsily in her headlight, startled her out of the depths. She hit the brakes and swerved, and managed to send herself into the sand as a tortoise disappeared into the night, living to cause a much worse crash another day.

           “Shit…” Vanni groaned and got her bike back upright, the two of them no worse for wear. As she brushed herself off, she looked up at the nearby highway sign that told her Devil’s Knee was a mere one more mile away. “God damn tortoises, I swear…”

           Noticing how badly her hands were shaking, like the rest of her, Vanni decided it best to walk her bike the rest of the trip. She’d been lucky, but wasn’t going to push it.

           “That gonna be all for you this morning, shug?” Helen the waitress asked Vanni, not long after sunrise. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here this early.”

           “Huh?” Vanni looked up from her empty coffee mug. “Ah, yeah… I slept pretty horribly last night. Bad dreams. Don’t have an appetite…” She turned her gaze back to the motel, its parking lot nearly empty. “I might be the only guest there right now.”

           “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Helen said and put the check down. “It’s Monday, and things get pretty dead here around this time of year. Maybe you should get going, too.”

           “Y-yeah. Maybe…” Vanni murmured and dropped a couple dollars on the table.

           “Oh. Oh, no, not again. Poor kid,” Helen sighed. Vanni followed her line of sight to the windows facing the rest of the town, and also spotted Benji trudging on his own with his backpack. “His mom must’ve pulled a double shift again. I feel bad for Benji, having to walk to school. It’s not paved the whole way; he’ll be going through mud.”

           Vanni watched the boy stop at an intersection, the red light barely visible from her seat. She thought and considered, just for a moment. When the light turned green, she stood, thanked Helen for all the breakfasts, and headed back to the motel.

           “Hey! Benji!” Vanni shouted out as she rolled up near him, stopping right before the sidewalk ended and only desert sand, still muddy from the rain, stood between him and the school. He turned, smiled, and clearly didn’t expect her to take off her helmet, offer it to him, and ask, “You want a ride to school? I’ll keep it at fifteen, real slow like.”

           “Thanks, Vanni, but… I dunno if my mom will be okay with that. It’s all right if I’m ten minutes late or so. The teacher is used to it. So, um… See you around.”

           “C’mon, Benji, I’m good with kids. I won’t let you fall off. Besides, you’ll get to wear my cool helmet.” When he hesitated again, she added, “It has speakers inside it.”

           He clenched his teeth and looked around before taking the helmet. If he could explore the night alone, surely a big adult version of a bicycle would be no problem.

           “That’s right,” Vanni guided him onto the back. “Just scoot closer… There you go. Okay, helmet on? I know it’s a little big. Now just hold onto my sides. You good?”

           He gave her a nod, and she revved the engine like she was about to take off. But then she kept her promise and stayed at a safe speed. She didn’t know his music tastes, but when she sent a bit of Guns N’ Roses into the helmet… he did seem to enjoy it.

           Thanks to her valiant efforts, Vanni covered the half-mile in good time and got Benji to school before the bell rang—but more importantly, while there were still kids filing in who saw him arrive on a motorcycle. A few stared as he hopped off.

           As she took the helmet back, Vanni noted a bonus, “This should help your social status a bit, bud. For maybe a week, at least. Well. If ‘cool’ is still important at school.”

           “Thanks a lot, Vanni…” He eyed her mounted phone. “You should probably call my mom and tell her you got me here, so she doesn’t have to worry about it.”

           “Um. I mean, yeah… I guess I could. I just wonder how that talk would start…”

           He grinned. “It’s okay. I told her about you.” The bell rang, and the stragglers out front of the small school hastened their pace. “Can you teach me more games?”

           “Uh… Sometime, sure… Benji!” she called out after him as he began to run towards the building, her fingers hovered over her phone’s keypad, and she was briefly awash with memories of her own schooldays. “Still need your mom’s number, buddy!”

           Something was starting to shift within Vanni by the time she showed up to her next surprise stop, at about nine in the morning: another diner. But this one, a place with the old-fashioned moniker “Whistle Stop,” was on Main Street. It was a little bigger and a little busier, with an apparent clientele of small store or restaurant workers.

           The sound of the door’s bell drew her idle gaze off the little historic central square of Devil’s Knee and to the entrance, where a petite Native American woman with long hair was searching the eatery. Vanni didn’t even need to wave to be found, being distinguishable enough just looking like she did. Benji’s mom, still in her work uniform and obviously exhausted, smiled and came over to the booth.

           “You must be Vanni,” she said, and unexpectedly greeted her with a light and fast but soul-warming hug before sitting down opposite her. “I’m Willow. Thanks for getting him to school. I never know when I’ll have to fill in for someone…” She took a second menu from the waitress who had come by. “This is the best diner in town. The Sunset isn’t bad, but it’s still truck stop food. There’s a little more heart here.”

           “Yeah, it… kinda seems that way,” Vanni murmured and got back to looking at the options. “It’s nice you offered to pay, but I couldn’t ask that. I didn’t do that much.”

           “You don’t think so? Benji seems to adore you. But he says you’re also… sad.”

           Thankfully for Vanni, topics remained light while they waited for the food and drinks. But that wouldn’t last. Just after a stomach-stuffing breakfast burrito arrived for Vanni, Willow’s mood became a little somber. She had her first bite of scrambled eggs from a rather standard but well-portioned, nice-smelling mixed plate, and suddenly…

           “You lost someone recently, didn’t you?” she popped the dreaded question that Vanni had no easy way out of, and sent a tingle through her bones. “I can tell.”

           “What… makes you so sure?” Vanni said, her weak smile already faltering.

           “People don’t spend three weeks in a place like Devil’s Knee to see the landscape. Mm, that’s good…” She ate hungrily. “You’re hiding. Or you just… got ‘stuck’ here.”

           Unbelievable, Vanni thought. She read me faster than I ever did anyone back home.

           “I, uh… No…” Vanni puffed out and shook her head. “I can’t. This is too much of a cliché, come on. The wise Indigenous person helping the broken white girl…”

           Willow’s eyes darted back up to Vanni, right through the chink in her armor. “So, you think you’re ‘broken.’ That’s a start. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m younger than you, and that breaks the stereotype a bit. Look, I’m good at this. We can just talk, like two people.”

           “I…” Vanni hung onto that one vowel uncomfortably long, and shrunk into her seat. With a shuddering intake of air, she admitted, “I was going to my sister-in-law’s in Phoenix. I stopped here for the night, planning to arrive in the morning. But then, I… I stayed. I-I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t planned out what to say, how to… be. One extra night turned into a week, then three. I’m waiting until I… I don’t know… Feel… different? I guess I’m still going through the motions. Everyone does it at their own pace, right?”

           “And are you working through it?” Willow asked a simple, cutting question. “Can you even say what it is you’re trying to wade through, but got yourself bogged down in?”

           Vanni stared at Willow’s large, dark, unrelenting eyes. Why did she have to care so much about a stranger and put her on the spot? Was it her idea of returning a favor?

           “I can’t… I-I don’t want to put a name on it… It still feels…” She looked back into Willow’s eyes again. Despite not having changed at all, now they suddenly seemed empathetic somehow. “I really tried to not ask for them, but the antidepressants I’m on barely help, and it’s been eight months since it… it happened, and I really thought I’d be better by now, but it’s like nothing has changed. I still feel like I’m just drifting from one moment to the next, and I have no control over which of them I’ll remember, or why.”

           “You’re complicating something that’s already an intricate, difficult, and existential process. But you still haven’t said what that thing is. Do you even know?”

           Vanni sniffled, her jaw trembled, and she wiped away a few tears before looking around at the other patrons. None were staring at them, but it felt like they may as well have been. She protectively crossed her arms, and a word finally emerged from the dark.

           “Gree… G-grief… I… I haven’t even… gotten started.” She took a quivering gulp of air. “It’s so strange, meeting new people after something like this, who weren’t in my life in the ‘before times.’ It’s like, if I keep doing it, I may run out of room for memories of everyone I’ve met… liked… Loved. And they only see me after… he’s already gone.”

           Willow sat back in her booth, smiling understandably, sympathetically. It almost looked like she now knew everything there was to know about the mess in front of her.

           “You lost your brother,” she surmised softly and accurately, making it hurt again.

           Trying not to let in such words, Vanni replied almost robotically, “Step-brother. His mom married my dad. When he moved in, I was nine… and he was five. We played video games, debated music… I had him for thirty-five years. And I’m still not sure how ‘hard’ I should mourn, or if there’s some… appropriate amount; we weren’t true siblings.”

           “No,” Willow said in a nearly scolding tone, and reached out to squeeze Vanni’s clasped hands, “don’t do that. There are many emotions to feel, many ways to handle this thing, but don’t diminish him to try and take away some pain. It will betray him, yourself, and your relationship. Is that how you want to see those thirty-five years you shared?”

           Her words sent a sharp jolt of reality and self-loathing through Vanni. But it was a jolt that also reached her heart, and she answered, “N-no… I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just so lost on what I’m supposed to do now. And what others expect me to do.”

           Sighing, Willow let go of her. “You were kind to my son and got him to school, so you did do something. I’m not a professional, and I can only help you so much, but I’ve seen my share of sorrow growing up. What I’ve always been able to offer others is some caring perspective. You’re hurt, and no single piece of advice will fix that. But you can choose to start the healing process. What I do know, is that it’s much easier when we are with family. So, go home, Vanni. But first… eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

           Vanni’s shoulders suddenly felt just slightly lighter, and she felt a pang of hunger at last. As she cut into her burrito, she said quietly, “… Gavin. His name was Gavin…”

           When she returned to the motel, the simple lodging with the tacky interior no longer felt like a refuge, but rather just… a room. A space surrounded by four walls, like any other. Whatever sense of safety and passing of time it once offered now didn’t seem needed or relevant. She moved the phone from her ear for a moment to check the time.

           “No worries, I still have a half-hour to get out of here before they charge me for another day. It’d be nice to give that kid a better goodbye, but I think I’ll be stopping in again. Maybe even on the way back to LA… Whenever that is. Just because I spent too long here, doesn’t mean it isn’t a nice little place to stay for a spell. It’s cheap, at least.”

           Vanni absorbing every word on this call, her dad’s voice replied, “I’m glad you’re getting back out there. I know it isn’t easy to move on from a part of your life, but you were able to do it when we left Royal Valley. You get to keep the memories.”

           “I know…” she said with a sigh and started packing—a very quick process. “I, um… I met someone else here. Benji’s mom. We had a talk. Not a long one, but she said a few things I needed to hear. You know, there was this kid back in Desert Tree who was always around, and I’d give him all these life tips that I thought were just kind of… shallow, throwaway, typical bits of advice. But I guess he learned a lot from me, since he told me this one time that all the stuff stuck because it was more about who was giving the advice. Maybe she just happened to be the person I needed to hear it from.”

           “That’s great, Van. I’m happy for you. I think he is, too, wherever he is now.”

           “I said his name today, Dad. I feel like, maybe I can start talking about him again. Anyway, like I said, three hours to Phoenix, and no idea how long I’ll be there. But Char says I can stay as long as I want. I’m sure she could use some help with the kids.”

           “You’ll find your way, drummer girl. Okay, gotta go—the AC repair guy just showed up. Ride safe, call me when you get there, and try to get some good sleep.”

           “Will do, Dad,” Vanni said, hanging up on the way to the bathroom.

           She tossed her pills and toiletries into her bag, and before turning off the light, managed to look at herself in the mirror. Once her backpack was on her shoulders, she tentatively, then hesitantly, pulled down her jacket on the left. The memorial tattoo, still red, gradually saw light. “Best Bro Gavin Patile 1983-2023,” over a joystick. Simple and elegant; Mel was a good artist. She covered it back up, turned off the lights, and left the room. Sometime soon, it’d be someone else’s turn to hide away in it for a brief while.

           Having only gotten a few hours of actual restful sleep the night before, Vanni was noticeably tired by the time she reached the Phoenix suburbs, after riding nearly a couple hundred miles on a rumbling motorcycle. But when Charlotte came out of the front door of the small ranch house looking even more tired as soon as Vanni pulled up, her husband’s sister knew she just had to do the selfless thing and tough it out.

           “Thank God you’re here, Vanni,” she huffed as a collection of reusable grocery bags swung on one of her arms. “The sitter, just… never called me back today. I was hoping to run three errands, at most, but now that you’re here, I think I can take care of five. Oh, and… hi, Van. Hi, sweetheart,” she got all of that out before she even made it over to Vanni and gave her a tight squeeze. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you. That must’ve been a hell of a detour. Did you get lost somewhere?” she joked.

           “Hey, Charlotte,” Vanni replied quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

           “What matters is that you’re here now. Okay, time for catching up later—I really have to get going,” she said and went up to the compact sedan in the driveway. “Dinner is at six. You can give Trev either the cauliflower frozen pizza or chicken nuggets. They like an hour of TV before their bath. The bath ring for Chloe is in the hall closet. Oh, and Trevor has just a little bit of homework. I guess kindergarteners get it these days sometimes, I don’t know. It’s more like a little… parent-child activity, really.”

           “Char, you go ‘enjoy’ your errands. I’ll take good care of the kids. And get wine!”

           “Don’t worry; it ends up in my cart without me realizing it. Thanks again, Van.”

           She drove off as Vanni went inside and saw Trevor on the living room couch with his sixteen-month-old sister. Their big eyes left the TV and locked onto their aunt as she came in, dropped her bag and helmet onto a chair, and then quietly joined them.

           “Hi, guys. Remember me?” she asked them softly.

           Chloe looked slightly confused—then again, that was the default expression for kids her age—but Trevor, under his mop of hair that was getting close to his dad’s color and shade, smiled a little timidly and replied, “Um. Hi. Aunt Vanni…?”

           “Yep…” she said with a subtle quiver in her voice. “Wow, Chloe, you’ve gotten big… How is she at walking, Trev? Does she bumble about? Do you help her back up?”

           “Yeah…” he murmured, and seemed to relax a little before watching more TV.

           “Peppa Pig, huh?” Vanni stretched and yawned. “That’s already almost a classic.”

           Despite having no children, Vanni always did seem to have maternal instincts she couldn’t really explain. Staying sharp through her fatigue, she kept the two youngsters in line with a light touch throughout the later afternoon and evening, giving them steady encouragement and direction as if she’d already raised a few kids of her own. She got them to eat their dinner and behave in any case, and was even able to loosen up enough to reach back into her own childhood and play with a few toys with the pair.

           By the time the kids had gotten their hair washed while in a bath that had far too many bubbles—she was never sure how much of the stuff to put in—she was starting to fade. There was something soothing about their soft laughter, the carefree splashing of toys in the water, and that renewed sense of childhood simplicity and innocence. As she kept an eye on them from the side of the tub, she drifted off on the porcelain for just a moment, not even long enough to dream. Her subconscious yelled at her to wake up before someone goes underwater, and she snapped back into the here and now.

           But for a second or two, she felt between two places. When she saw Trevor in the bubbles, with his hair damp and dark, her mind told her that she had time traveled back to a night in the distant past. She and Gav had only ever shared a bath a handful of times; it wasn’t long at all until she felt too old for it after he joined the family. Yet, for a fleeting moment, that small corner of their shared history felt present again.

           An hour after the kids had gotten clean, following a little more TV and Trevor’s “homework,” Vanni tucked them into their beds in the room they shared. Like some perfect toddler, Chloe had somehow fallen asleep within minutes. Trevor, on the other hand, was a bit restless in the glow of his nightlight and the cracked-open door.

           “Aunt Vanni, um…” he said quietly as she sat at his bedside, where she had read him a bedtime story she looked up on her phone, “was… my daddy… your brother?”

           “Mm-hm. He was,” she murmured. “That’s what makes me your aunt. I know, it takes a little while to learn about extended family. But you’ll be seeing me more often.”

           “Oh. Do you, um… Do you miss him lots, like I do? Are you sad, like Mommy?”

           Vanni put a hand on her young nephew’s shoulder. “Every day, lots and lots. And I’ll always be sad about it. But you know what? My good memories get happier, too.”

           He gave her a tired little smile, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Happy is better.”

           “Happy is better, huh?” Charlotte said an hour later while she shared some wine with Vanni at the dormant fireplace, once the groceries were put away and she had changed into her evening wear. “Five-year-olds sure know how to speak the truth.”

           Vanni sipped her red. “They’re great kids. I don’t know if it’s being here, or if it started when I left the motel, but Gav memories are flooding back, some I thought lost.”

           “That’s a good thing, Van. Every one of them is precious. What stands out?”

           “Too many to say… Some are from the first few months after we met, when our parents were dating… The two of us, dressed up for their wedding. Being a very overly protective big sister while we were both at Sherman Miller together. One of his birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese’s, where he got so upset after losing to his friend Mikey at an arcade game that he threw up pizza all over the table… Okay, that one, I’d never forget.”

           Charlotte sniffled and stared into her wine. “And… there was never any sign…”

           “About his heart? No. If he noticed, he didn’t share it with us. I’m still not even close to okay. I may never enjoy a rainstorm again—maybe one reason I mostly stick to the dry places. But now… I’m a sad version of myself, and not a… numb, unfeeling one.”

           “I’m happy for you. That’s a big step…” She swirled her wine for a second. “Can I show you something? You’d eventually discover it on your own while you’re here, I’m sure, but I’d like to reveal it to you personally. Come on—follow me, real quick.”

           Vanni did so, with Charlotte taking her past the master bedroom and into a small home office with a single window. Gavin’s computer sat on a cluttered desk, inactive and gathering dust, but there was an also impressive if not condensed CD and hi-fi sound system in the middle of some densely-packed wooden shelves full of jewel cases.

           “Oh, wow, I don’t think I ever saw this room the few times I’ve visited…” Vanni picked up a framed photo of Gav and Char shot out front of Tokyo Tower, and then skimmed the album spines. “He always did like physical media. The sense of ownership, the effort it took to change a CD… Even if this is a five-disc player. What a collection.”

           “He loved finding used ones for cheap, and gathered up tons by obscure bands no one’s heard of. There’s over a thousand in here. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the room yet, or all this music… But, Vanni, if you’re staying for a few months, maybe you could… digitize all of it for me with my old optical drive? Keeping it lossless, of course.”

           “That’d take quite a while.” Vanni smiled. “But, yeah. I’ll do it. For all five of us.”

           And so, Vanni found herself on another lengthy stay. The days grew longer as the weeks wore on, faster than they had at The Cap. She spent her time helping with the kids, and they grew friendlier with each passing night. Charlotte was a bit less tired every morning, and Vanni learned how to cook new dishes by assisting her in the kitchen. But as much as Trevor asked, his mom forbade him from getting a motorcycle ride to school.

           In late May, she began to grow restless as she always did when in a spot for too long, and she knew it was time to move on—though not without the promise to return. Which she fulfilled for Benji on the way to LA, by stopping in for a day, connecting her laptop to his living room TV, and showing him her digital collection of arcade game compilations as his mother made a hearty Southwestern meal on the stovetop.

           “Cheer up, buddy,” she told him on her way out the next morning. “Next time, maybe I’ll stay a little longer. Right now, I’m just a little… homesick all of a sudden.”

           Benji smiled and waved as she fired her motorcycle’s engine outside his house, shouting back, “Next time you’re over, I’m gonna try really hard to beat you at a game!”

           Hoping he would, Vanni began a five-hour journey back to the city of angels.

           After unlocking the door to her small apartment and shoving away the mail hill with a foot, she still didn’t really feel at home. Sure, this was a place with awesome thrift store finds, sound equipment, posters and memorabilia, and a chill atmosphere to hang out in with friends… Yet it was just a place, another refuge. What she needed was home.

           She washed up, fell into her messy bed, and got right to planning her next road trip. She read with a grin the text from Willow about Benji asking for ‘one of those retro consoles filled with old games’ for his birthday and requesting suggestions, then began a group chat with her good friends, Alex and Rachel. “Hey, thinking I’ll be in Royal Valley tomorrow. Wanna catch up? Maybe get the band back together as much as we can?”

           The next morning, she got on her bike, this time putting a busted up old Android work phone on the mount. Its microSD slot and Bluetooth still functioned, which was all she needed from it. Being careful with a one-terabyte card so tiny she could only label it “GAV,” she slid it into the phone, and then hit the shuffle icon on the cracked screen to play the first of about 20,000 songs from her little brother’s curated, prized collection.

           With a rev of the engine, she carried herself and a shard of his soul into sunrise.