Dusk to Dawn

The loud motorcycle engine cut through the silence of the night and woke me up with a start. It’s not much of a start. Since I couldn’t move much under the mountain of blankets, I had wrapped in before bed.

Here we go again.

It’s the third time this week that my neighbor has left the house with his music turned up as loud as it goes. My eyes are barely open when I look at the clock and moan at the time. Who in their right mind listens to Lynard Skynard at six a.m.?

I wish I were the type that could fall back asleep quickly, but my brain is just a little different than everyone else’s. So I moan as loudly as my throat will let me, and I get up to go into the bathroom and handle my morning routine.

Almost every morning has been the same since I moved back to Emerald City. But after about two months of waking up in the ass crack of dawn, my patience was wearing dangerously thin. I had no idea how to confront the man, though. I rarely even caught a glimpse of him. He was mainly gone all day and usually showed up back home when I was about to go to sleep. I knew that he drove a loud, obnoxious motorcycle, though. I’m sure everyone in the county could hear it.

Whatever. I was finally back home after four years in my mountain roots, far away from the research project that took me away initially. My current role was unemployed and looking. My last position with UCLA ended up in an utter disaster, and now I was home again and trying to figure out what to do next with my life.

I was happy to be home and out of the city. Regardless of my neighbors’ antics, I would continue to be satisfied with the hand I’ve been dealt with. I was healthy, had a roof over my head, a healthy lump sum of savings, and had my family with me. Focusing on the blessings of my life was what got me out of bed every morning.

Our houses were the only two on this wooded dead end, his being right in front of mine. Uncle wanted me to stay with him and Auntie, but I liked being out here. The wilderness was peaceful. So far, I have taken long hikes every morning. I like exploring and cataloging all the surrounding plants and trees. It’s a way to continue researching, even with no end goal.

I drink my coffee and eat my breakfast as I wait for the sun to rise higher. My field notes, laptop, and rain jacket are all on my person, and I wait for the right time to make my trek through the morning forest again.

I can walk out past the county lines by the time it gets to be near noon. Uncle Rick and Rick Jr. would be waiting on me back at their bar for lunch, so I hurried home to shower and wash off the dirt and sweat. I should leave my backpack at home, but it took a lot of work to break the habit of bringing it with me wherever I went. I pull up in the rust bucket Ricky Jr. found for me and park outside the old pub they run together. The smell of stale beer and cleaner wafts out as I open the old wooden door and sit at the table in the corner. I can see Ricky getting everything ready to open behind the bar, and he gives me his usual saucy wink. I give a pretend glare back and open my laptop.

It’s usually how my days have gone since I arrived home, tired and haggard from the two-day journey from Panama. I wake in the morning to the rumble of a motorcycle, walk through the forest in my backyard, and then have lunch and spend my day in the bar until it opens at 5 p.m. I liked the routine; it allowed me to input all of my collected data into the software on my laptop in a quiet area. The bar was the only quiet place to do my work in Emerald City, CA, at the moment. There was no public library, and most cafes were down the mountain, closer to the big city. Just houses scattered throughout the hills, and one main road housed most of the businesses in town. Across from the bar was a new mechanic shop that must have opened in the 4 years I was gone.

I’m deep into my data cataloging when I hear the door open and shut with a thud. I notice a man wearing greasy coveralls, black working boots, and a thick brown beanie walk in. Can’t really see his face in the dimness of the bar. The walls are covered with mirrored signs of different beer brands, and the old lights cast off a soft yellow glow. The man walks right past me and sits at the bar between me and Ricky; he gives me a quick glance and turns around to pour the man a drink.

As soon as the man turns around, I know exactly who it is. Dusty is the mechanic friend of Ricky Jr. and was the source of my little rust bucket beetle parked outside. He had to be the most handsome man I had ever seen, but all that disappeared when he had announced me to be too prudish to be one of my cousin’s many ‘female friends’ in front of Ricky and my Uncle. And Dusty had the balls to say all that while wearing a scowl aimed at me. The awkward introduction months ago had soured all his attractiveness for me, and I avoided his eyes whenever possible. Now, he was leaning against the bar, his elbow resting on the worn surface, and his body angled towards me. His deep brown eyes were aimed at me, and I kept my head down as I continued to type. I was trying to focus on the numbers and dates while feeling the heat in his glare.

I never said a word to the guy after the initial ” Hello, my name is Mona.” I doubt that I ever would. I could add Dusty to the list of annoyances in my life right after my noisy neighbor. It was like this every time I saw him, which I tried and failed to keep at a minimum. There were only a few places besides the surrounding forests in the city to escape. And all the glares that Dusty could give me wouldn’t scare me from the one place I knew I belonged. Dusty would come into the bar right as I finished my work for the day. He would always make it a point to sit somewhere close between me and my only cousin and glare at me. He would sip on his drink of whatever brown liquor while he chit-chatted with Ricky, and I would clack away at my laptop. His glare made me self-conscious, and the word prudish was seared into my mind now. And now, every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a woman wearing baggy jeans and a sweater with a rat nest of a hairdo. My thick acetate glasses were great for the long treks through the jungle and were durable for the hikes I did every morning, not so much for looking nice and sleek.

I knew my looks weren’t hideous, but I never cared to attract the male gaze. In fact, I hated it. And I knew the only reason I cared what Dusty thought was because he so blatantly announced he thought me too ugly to conquer. Or, at least, I thought he did.

“You finished for the day, Mona?” Ricky calls out from behind the bar. I nod as I start packing up. My butt is numb from sitting down too long, and the laces from my boots are digging into my ankles now. Ricky nods back at me, and I can see Dusty shift closer, looking at the papers and notes on my table.

“Whatcha working on there, Bambi?” Before I can pack up my field notes, Dusty grabs them and flips through the pages. I am too angry to care that I let out a squawk and jump to grab them from him. He dodges me quickly with a laugh, and I step back so I don’t bump into his grease-covered clothes. It’s like he stepped out of one of those romance novels in the grocery store; the title would be “The Mechanic and Me.” I wait until he is done reading my carefully collected notes and snatch them back as soon as he lowers his hands. His face returns to that scowl, and he leans back in his stool. Great - now I’m a prudish nerd.

“You have no right grabbing my stuff, you oaf.” Dusty’s thick brown eyebrows shoot up into his beanie, and he laughs loudly. His handsome face is covered in a thin level of grim from work, but his thick brown bread is neatly trimmed and lined up. His dark eyes assess me momentarily before I rip my eyes away and go back to sorting out my notes. He is still chuckling as he sips his brandy or whiskey.

I avoid looking at Ricky or Dusty as I shove everything back into my pack and step away. I was used to being teased about being a ‘book nerd,’ and even though high school was a decade ago, it still stung whenever I could feel the laughter that other people had. And I wasn’t about to sit there and let these men make a joke out of me. I felt super defensive, but I had worked so hard to pick up the pieces of my imploded life when I decided to return home. I knew no one cared about the data I collected, but they were just a fun way to pass the time. I was still looking for a new job, but I didn’t want to have to leave the mountain again so soon.

“Wait, Mona! Wait, come back! Sit down, girl!” Ricky calls from the bar; I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I turn around and glare hard at the wood on the bar. My hair might be black and frizzy, but my skin was always pale and wouldn’t do me the favor of hiding my blush.

“I never asked how your work was going this week.” Ricky left the bar and returned my backpack to the table. Dusty was leaning closer now, and I felt under a microscope by his gaze. Ricky put his arm around me and led me back to my chair. He pulled on my ponytail like always, then sat across from me. I knew that Ricky knew that I didn’t like Dusty. But he never raised a voice to clear the air, and he just watched with amusement every day when Dusty was glaring at me.

I just muttered, “It went well.” I wanted to avoid getting into the semantics of my work in front of Dusty. I wasn’t sure why I cared what he thought, but in this vulnerable moment, I very much did.

“What was it the State had you researching? Tree growth in the forests?” I nod at Ricky’s question. I loved Ricky a lot; we were raised together like siblings, but he was also a loudmouth. He told me that he met Dusty when he showed up in town and bought the mechanics shop across the street and that they were cool with each other. I had no idea what was up Dusty’s butt, but I didn’t want to know. No one I met had any issues with him, even my Aunt liked him - and she rarely liked anyone outside of our immediate family.

“So, you go around looking at trees all day then, Bambi?” I don’t move my gaze from Ricky and give a nod. My face is heating up to a thousand under both of their scrutiny. I give Ricky a look to let him know to let it go, and he catches on quick. He gets up and returns my stuff, telling me it will rain soon and I should head home before my lane gets too muddy to drive in. I quickly mind his orders after almost getting stuck in a hidden pothole last week. Ricky walks away as I gather the last of my things, and I’ve mostly chosen not to acknowledge the greasy oaf sitting not a foot away from me.

But he doesn’t let me make my escape. I almost flinch when his hand reaches out and grabs my sleeve, pulling me towards him so I’m standing between his thighs. His knees are splayed out, his worn boots planted firmly on the old tiled floor. I look at the bar and see Ricky walking back to the kitchen to get the rest of the bar opened. Rough fingers gently move my chin toward his, and I can barely breathe as Dusty forces me to look at him. I point my eyes at the top of his beanie, where the brand name is stitched into the thick fabric.

“You out there by yourself, Bambi?” The usual scowl is there again, but the whisper is tissue-soft. I hold back the retort that is waiting, wanting to see what he wants from me. This sudden gentleness is very new and very different from the usual glares sent my way.

“You still don’t want to talk to me? Geez, Bambi, I didn’t know that Ricky was your cousin. Y’all look nothing alike. Come on, gimme your eyes at least.” I didn’t realize how hard my jaw was clenched until I had to force my mouth open.

I will not curse his ass out. I will NOT curse his ass out!

Taking a deep breath and willing myself to stay calm, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. This man has given me a whiplash with the switch-up. And he was trying to make up for the awkward introductions. However, Auntie didn’t raise a foul-mouth child, so I reigned my insults to tell him to back off.

“I don’t know why you care, and it’s not a big deal. I grew up in these mountains. I know my way around.” This was clearly not the right thing to say to Dusty at all. Because his grip on my sleeve seemed to tighten before he let me go. I had no idea what he wanted from me, and I was already sleep-deprived and needed a caffeine pick-me-up.

I clear my throat and walk out the door. I can feel the laser gaze through the bar window and try not to die of embarrassment as the rain starts pouring down on me while I walk back to my car. I feel like a wet cat as I pry the heavy metal door open to the rust bucket of a car. When it’s rainy, the driver’s side door always takes more strength to open. I’m starting the engine when the passenger side door is wrenched open, and I see the man of the hour pop his head in. He is so tall he has to almost bend over to look at me.

“Babe, there is no way in hell I’m letting you drive this tin can in the rain. I don’t know why Ricky got this piece of shit mobile for you; I can get you hooked up with something better in no time. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“No, thank you. I’m not a charity case.” Dusty’s eyebrows shoot up into the lip of his beanie again, and then the scowl deepens into his face. He will look like one of those Japanese scary-looking Oni masks soon if he doesn’t stop that. I don’t know what comes over me, but the thought doesn’t stay locked up in my brain and comes right out, and I blurt it out right to his face.

Then, a sight I never thought I would want to see appears before me as the almost blinding smile stretches across his lips. I purse my lips tight, not wanting to say anything else that might egg him on.

“Real funny, babe, but get out of the car now. Before, I’m soaked anymore than I already am.” I’m ignoring the repeated word ‘babe,’ but I chose to roll with it since it’s better than ‘Bambi.’

I roll my eyes as he shuts the door and walks to my driver’s side to get me out of my car. Before he can arrive, though, I quickly lock the doors and drive away when he tries to open my door. It’s a dick move, but I’m not letting that pompous troll tell me what to do. I can hear his shout and see him jogging after me as I barrel down the main street. His tall figure is out of focus in my rearview as I turn down the road that leads back home. And I don’t know what came over me, but all I could do was laugh as I sped off.