I come out of the grocery and squint my eyes in the rough Arizona sunlight, looking for my car. The air moves in waves as people slowly make their way around.
“Eliza, remind me again why anyone is dumb enough to go out, at noon, in the dead of summer, in Tucson, Arizona.” My best friend Maya whined next to me. She had tagged along on my errands with me because she had nothing better to do.
“Maya, remind me why I’m still in Tucson after all these years?” I griped back, adjusting the huge load of bags on my arms and reaching into my Backpack for my sunglasses, which had gone mysteriously missing. Again. I sighed and gave up. My Backpack could be lived out of on any occasion, unless you needed something conventional or used daily, like a pen, or sunglasses. Interestingly enough these things tended to reappear when you no longer needed it, or bought a new one. This was the explanation I gave my fiancée every time he got in the car and there were 11 pairs of sunglasses.
“You have no back bone when it comes to Robby?” She offered. I shifted my weight and threw my foot into the back of her knee. She grunted and stumbled, but didn’t go down as I had hoped she would. I kicked her because I hated being reminded that I had come back to the city I grew up in, and hated, because of the love of my life. Don’t get me wrong, Tucson is great if that’s where you want to be, very family oriented, great Mexican food, but there’s one rule. If you haven’t gotten out by the time you’re 18, you’re stuck. If you come back to live, after 18, you aren’t going to leave. ESPECIALLY if you have family nearby. For me, I had the luck of falling for a guy who travelled for living. A food critic. So when he got a break he stayed with his mom. I’m a sucker for romance, so I stayed too. Thinking he would take me with him on his next adventure. What a joke. He took off, travelling the world with his manager, who he kept swearing would get him a TV show and we’d be rich, and beautiful women who were about 150 pounds lighter than me. You see where I’m going with this. I caught sight of myself in a car window as we walked by, looking for mine. I stood 6 foot tall, which made my 253 pounds look like it was curve versus pudge. My boring brown hair currently had bright green strips in it, and was still curly from a wine and dine event I had attended a week ago.
Eliza attended a local fundraising event to pitch her idea for a bakery/deli. She hasn’t washed her hair yet.
Hey Mr. Narrator man, who’s telling this story?
I rolled my eyes. I had a bad habit of hearing voices in my head, probably from reading too much as a child. I caught up to Maya, who had trudged ahead while I ogled myself, and reached into my Backpack for my key clicker. After a small panic when I didn’t immediately find it in its regular spot, I pulled it out and opened the trunk of my Kia Soul. On the count of three Maya and I both lifted our armloads into the trunk at the same time.
“What the hell is in all these bags anyway?” She asked, pulling a soda out of her purse and taking a huge drink. I watched her, my throat burning as if to remind me of my jealousy.
“weren’t you paying any attention?”
“Do I ever?” She replied, handing me the bottle and going to around to her door while I closed the trunk. Gulping down the rest of the soda, only sparing a moment to think of my diet, I came around to the front and unlocked the car so we could get in. Maya and I opened our doors and stood for a moment, letting the hot air flow out before we got in.
