by Amber Foxx
Ezra Yahnaki approached with his mother and sisters. He stopped when they reached the building and politely introduced Mae to his family without making eye contact, then added, “We’re doing the one-mile walk together.”
Mae was sure Ezra could walk more than a mile easily, but his mother and sisters were out of breath after walking from their car. She said, “That should be fun.”
His mother let out a huff of air. “It should be. But I got diabetes and my feet are bad. We’ll see.” She went inside, followed by her daughters. Ezra told them he’d be in shortly and sat beside Mae.
“I had to make them do it. My grandma and me are the only people in our family that don’t have diabetes. And my sisters are only fifteen and seventeen. It’s bad, them having it already.”
“I’m glad you got them to come out and walk.”
“Yeah. I could have run the five K, but ... I don’t know why I told you all that.”
“Because the other kids from Boys and Girls Club are running? And you’re not?”
“I’d be slow. I wouldn’t win anything. It’s not a big deal.”
Mae doubted this. She’d seen the intense focus of the other runners in Zak’s group. The event was a big deal to them, especially with the meaning Zak had given it. Ezra was the youngest, the heaviest, and no doubt the slowest. For him, this should have been the biggest deal of all—to train and to run with his friends, and with Zak. “I think it was a big deal.”
Ezra slumped, one foot rubbing the other.
Mae continued, “And you gave it up to be with your family. I wish you’d heard what Zak told the other kids before they went in. He said you’re running for your people. That you’re spiritual runners. I think you’re living up to that by walking.”
“Zak doesn’t. He told me it makes me look lazy, and that I should show the other heavier kids that they can run, too.”
“He really said that?”
The grinding clatter of stroller wheels on the rocky dirt of the parking lot drew Mae’s attention and stopped her from saying what she thought of Zak’s insensitivity. Melody and her twins had arrived.
“Hey,” Mae greeted her. “Is your back better?”
“A little.” Melody looked down at Dean and Deanna, who appeared to be competing to see who could stomp on their footrest the loudest. “I took three ibuprofen.”
“Be careful. That can mess up your stomach. You think you can stand long enough to watch the race? Is there a place to sit?”
“People bring chairs. But I’m not watching it. I’m running it.”
“Don’t you mean walking?”
“No. I’m doing the five K.”
No way. Melody’s knees and feet would take a beating. Her back could go into spasms again. She might have high blood pressure or be pre-diabetic. “Melody, that’s really—really—” Dangerous. Stupid. Mae searched for a tactful way to express what she thought. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anybody. Just do the walk. Ezra’s going to, with his mama and his sisters. If you want to run eventually, that’s great, build up to it. I told you I’d train you. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Melody’s voice was steely. “I’m doing the five K.”
Ezra asked, “Are you doing it for Zak?”
“I’m doing it at him.” Melody spoke to Mae. “He still doesn’t want you and Jamie in the house. He’s mad that I let you in last night. But as far as I’m concerned, you can still come over. It’s my house, too, and my shower.”
Mae guessed there might be more that Melody had the sense not to say in front of Ezra—something about Letitia perhaps—but that could wait. “We don’t have to make it tense for you. Jamie can sort it out with Zak eventually. We’ll go back to my place today, or Jamie will know someone who’ll let him trade some cooking for a place to clean up.”
“Jamie had a fight with Zak?” Ezra asked.
Mae nodded, and Melody sighed a disgruntled affirmation.
The boy studied both women’s faces. He spoke softly, kindly. “My grandma likes Jamie. I’ll ask her if you guys can come over. I bet she’ll say yes.” He stood, and then looked at his shoes, back to his shy, awkward self. “I have to use my sister’s phone,” he mumbled. “I’m not allowed to have one yet.”
“Thank you.” Mae watched until the door of the wellness center closed behind him. “What a great kid. He’s really special.”
“Zak’s mad at him for not running.”
“Because he wants him to be a role model?”
“So he says. But it’s really because Zak wants the credit for getting him to run. Hell, there are a ton of kids who go to Boys and Girls Club who aren’t running at all. They do other stuff, like art. But Zak can’t show them off to the whole tribe at once like he can the runners. His high risk kids being healthy.”
“High risk for what?”
“Diabetes. Or drugs and drinking. Or quitting school. All sorts of stuff. Bernadette’s always getting us grants and helping start prevention programs. The running group is part of it. You’d think it was all Zak’s idea, though, to listen to him.”
Dean and Deanna began a new game, batting each other’s hands down and shrieking with each success. Mae stood and opened the door to the lobby. “Who’s gonna watch the kids for you during the race?”
“I don’t know. Mom’s doing a float in the parade, Misty’s running, and I didn’t get hold of Montana. Jamie offered but they don’t know him, and ... I didn’t want to say this to him, but he’s kind of flaky, and he gets those anxiety attacks. He wouldn’t make a good babysitter.”
Mae wished Melody had said it. It might have slowed down his daddy dreams a little, given him a reality check on his readiness.
She scanned the line of runners ahead of them, hoping to spot a relative who could talk Melody out of this. She only saw strangers. One trim young woman had a racing stroller with an infant dozing in it. The sight gave Mae a touch of nostalgia for when Brook and Stream were little and she’d pushed them around Tylerton in a double jogging stroller. If Melody had the right type of stroller, Mae could take Dean and Deanna in the race—but she didn’t. “What’ll you do if you don’t find someone?”
“I’ll do like that lady. Push the stroller.”
“That’s a special kind. Yours’ll be hard on you and the kids. Why are you so bound and determined to do this? It can’t be just because Zak won’t let us in the house.”
Melody lowered her voice so her words were almost masked by her children’s squealing and babbling. “I told him someone had seen him coming out of the Alpine Lodge last night.”
“I hope he didn’t guess it was me.”
“He wouldn’t say anything about that even if he had. That would be like admitting he had a secret you could find out. I asked him what he’d been doing there, and if it was that photographer’s room—and he said, ‘What if it was? Maybe she needed a fire put out.’ I told him he’d done it pretty damned quick if that was the case and he asked me what was the quickest we’d ever done it. We’ve had some fast ones in some funny places—so he might as well have told me he dipped his dipstick.”
“Running isn’t gonna un-dip it.”
Melody gave Mae a look. As they reached the head of the line, she finally told her children to lower their voices. Melody signed up for the five K, Mae for the ten K, and the woman at the table gave them papers with large numbers printed on them, and a few tiny safety pins.
They moved aside and Melody turned her back. “Pin my number on, will you?”
Mae pinned one corner and paused. “If you have to stop, or get hurt—”
“Some EMT will have to drop out of the ten K and take care of me.”
“Honey, that’s not gonna make him be a better husband to you. You know that.”
“It’s going to make me feel great, though. Anyway, Jamie’s bringing his van to a halfway spot. I can get in and get some AC if I’m dying.”
“Will that count as finishing the race if you take a break li
ke that?”
“That’s if I’m literally dying. Otherwise, I’m not taking a break, even if I have to walk or crawl or waddle like a duck. I’m coming in last and the whole tribe is going to have to wait for me. They don’t start the parade ’til the race is over, and I’m finishing this race.”
“There’s a parade?” Melody’s mention of her mother doing a float finally registered.
“Jamie didn’t tell you? He loves the parade. It’s right after the race.”
“He didn’t mention it, but it sounds like fun. And we could use some of that.”
Mae attached the last pin to the number on Melody’s broad, soft back. She was sweating already though the morning was still cool. The bra visibly cutting into folds of her flesh wasn’t a proper sports bra. Her breasts were going to bounce painfully. Her thighs were going to chafe so badly where her shorts rode up that she was likely to be in pain for a week. There was no point in warning her, though. Jamie had probably already tried to talk her out of it.
Or had he? He’d offered to take the kids and to be waiting halfway. With more empathy than common sense, he must have cheered her on.
Mae went outside while Melody took the children to the bathroom, and spotted Michael Pena and his wife among the crowd ready to start the race. Michael looked to be the oldest runner in the group, but as fit as the teenagers. Mae imagined him beating Zak. I’m getting petty. She made her way to Michael’s side. “Melody’s trying to run the five K pushing her twin stroller. Are your girls around anywhere?”
Michael looked briefly alarmed, took a cell phone from the pocket of his high-tech running shorts and made a call. “Leah. Watch the race route for Melody and grab the stroller ... I know. One of you should probably go with her ... She will? Excellent.”
He smiled at Mae. “Leah and Chamiqua will take the kids, and Bernadette’s going to step in beside Melody and keep an eye on her.”
“Thank you. I hope Melody doesn’t mind.”
“Family.” He said it like this was all she needed to know. The word obviously meant a lot here—to everyone but Zak. Melody, pushing the stroller, made her way into the group readying to start the race, and Michael gave the unlikely competitor a one-armed hug around her shoulders. “No matter what happens,” he said, “you’ve already won.”
Relieved, Mae mingled with the other runners, seeking her sweet spot in the ten K group, neither too far in front nor too far back, where she could keep an eye on the leaders. The Zuni firefighters who had come to dance in the powwow, small compact men who barely came up to her shoulder, chatted and joked with her while they waited. When the starting pistol went off, they fell silent and shot like rockets. Mae flew with them in a tight pack. She wanted to look back for Melody, but that would make her trip over a Zuni.
Past the Zuni crew she could see Zak and Michael together in the lead, with Michael’s wife a few steps behind. Mae planned to catch them, but she had to pace her efforts. She shifted to the roadside grass and weeds. A few people she passed commented on her barefoot shoes. Like your toes. Look, finger-moccasins.
The runners began to pick up speed on the downhill route. By the time they turned down the road toward the Catholic church at the base of a hill, Zak was lagging. The fastest runners flew past him like a human truck careening down a mountain, and Mae was one of its wheels.
The turnaround point for the five K and the first water station were just past the church. She spotted Jamie’s new van in the church parking lot, but no Jamie. There was another car nearby, a silver SUV with the license plate NMOFNM. Letitia’s business name: Notable Men of New Mexico. No sign of her, either. Melody would be fine—she had Bernadette and a water station—but Jamie should know how important an audience was. Maybe he was learning something from Letitia. Finding out what was up with her and Zak.
Realizing her distraction was slowing her down, Mae refocused on the race. She was amazed how soon she’d gotten ahead of Zak, but between the party one night and his fight with Melody the next, he had to be exhausted. It wouldn’t mean much to beat him when he was worn out.
“Come on,” one of the girls from Zak’s group gasped to Mae, “we gotta beat the men!”
Another girl passed her. She looked like a high school track star who actually could beat the men. Mae put on a little speed. At the turnaround up a wooded road, the leader varied from step to step.
Mae pulled ahead to run neck and neck with Michael Pena, the high school girl, and a Zuni firefighter. They stayed almost synchronized until they reached the uphill stretch approaching the church. As if on cue, all of them put out a burst of effort. Mae knew she would come in first in her age group for women whether or not she was first in the race, but she felt a thrill when she was in front for a few seconds. Her legs flew as if her body were being driven by some force outside herself, even when her heart pounded and her lungs burned.
She was pushing too hard to do more than glance aside for Jamie. He was leaning against his van side by side with Letitia, who was clutching his arm and talking to him excitedly. Flirting with him. How could he let her do that? It wasn’t like him.
The hill got steeper, and Mae lost the sensation of effortless power in her legs. She picked the high school girl as the person to beat. It gave her energy, even if she couldn’t catch her.
As the runners tore into the wellness center parking lot, an announcer called out times and numbers. The girl came in first, Michael next, the Zuni third, and Mae fourth. A boy named Walter—not one of Zak’s group—was fifth, and then Michael’s wife Casey Pena. Walking to cool down and catch her breath, Mae congratulated the other first finishers and looked for Zak to be next.
He was nowhere in sight.
Chapter Fifteen
Jamie emerged from his brain fog, still struggling to catch his breath. Bernadette was crouched beside him where he lay in the dirt of the church parking lot, her words a blur of concern. He tried to sit up, but she urged him to rest again.
This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened. He’d planned well, and improvised well, too, but in keeping with the whole bloody weekend, things had gone wrong.
Before the race, he’d parked the van in the lot, double-checked that he had locked it, and then reopened it to make sure he’d brought the cooler full of soft drinks Melody had given him. It was there. He moved it to the shadiest place in the interior and discovered his travel mug of coffee that he’d filled for the second megadose of the morning and forgotten in the cup holder. After taking a few welcome swallows, he closed the van and touched its scratch. It hadn’t stayed new for twenty-four hours.
Jamie made himself stop running his fingers over the scratch and went to sit on the church steps and finish waking up while he waited for the race to start. Don’t be so fucking gloomy. He drank more coffee, hoping it would uplift him.
A silver SUV pulled up beside the van and a shapely brown-skinned woman in tight jeans climbed out and started toward the church, carrying a camera and a large purse. With her gold nose stud and tattooed arms, she fit Mae’s description of the woman who’d been with Zak. He had to ask her what was going on, though he had no idea how. If he started talking, maybe something would come to him. Something that would finally get an honest answer out of somebody and put an end to the Chino sisters asking Mae to dig up secrets.
“G’day. Been here before?”
“Jangarrai.” The slow dawning of delight on the woman’s face and her use of his stage name made it clear that she was a fan. He hadn’t expected this. “What are you doing here?” Her accent was faintly Caribbean. “Are you playing somewhere nearby?”
“Nah. Dad’s a professor. Anthropologist. Studying Apaches. Been coming here since I was a kid.”
Her eyes narrowed and her head angled slightly. “So that’s how you know people here?”
“Yeah.” An idea came to him—fuzzy, but possibly effective. “Know a few people in the race. Girlfriend’s in it. And my mate and his wife. He doesn’t know she’s running, though. S
he’s this really big sheila, trying to show him something, y’know? She thinks he’s cheating, see. So she’s trying to prove she’s someone. Worth his admiration.”
Jamie waited for a reaction. Guilt. Embarrassment. Anger. The woman showed none of them.
“That’s very touching.” She sounded more amused than touched, and then her manner grew teasing. “Are these runners in your party crowd?”
“Bloody hell—you saw that?”
She took a smartphone from her purse, sat beside him—a little too close, and showed him her Facebook page. On the sidebar listing what music she liked, there was his icon, his name in black script against a dotted background like Aboriginal art. “I go to a lot of your Santa Fe shows. And my massage therapist uses your older music a lot. The healing music. So I was a little surprised to see you in that condition.” She went to Will’s page and found the video. “Did you see this? Even with your new music, I still thought of you as a spiritual composer and performer.”
She said this with a teasing smile, and yet something in her voice suggested she meant what she said. Confused, Jamie fidgeted and inched away from her. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have fun, drink a little. But not that cheap piss. That was my friend’s little sister’s beer—I took it from her. Wasn’t even drinking anything that night.”
“Really?” She touched the arrow to start the video.
“Jeezus. I’ve seen it. You don’t have to show me. Wish I could get Will to take the bloody thing down. Makes me look fat. Fat and drunk. Dunno why he did that except to bring me down to his level.”
The woman’s eyes met Jamie’s. She put her phone away, tapped a finger to her lips, and squinted in thought. “You need an image to undo it. I think I could make you look good bare-chested.”
“What the fuck?”
“Wouldn’t that be the thing? The right light, the right pose ...” She looked him over. “You wear those big loud shirts all the time now.” The one he wore today featured flamingos, matching the pink striped band on his straw fedora. She regarded it with a shake of her head. “All anyone sees is the shirt.”
