Needles

1

Genevieve drove down the Mohave Valley Highway with the windows of her old Buick down. The aviators on her face protected her deep brown eyes from the scorching sun beaming down. The hot, dense air filled the car and disheveled her umber colored hair as it moved at 75 miles per hour down the 95. The Animals crooned quietly from the worn out speakers, singing about a house in New Orleans and she listened. She listened as her mind wandered back to ten years ago on this very road. When she was with her family. When she was okay for the last time in a long time.

She gradually pressed down on the brake and the car eventually came down to a slow stop. The highway was old and worn out. Quiet and lonely, too. Right by the side of the road, stood three white dusty crosses decorated with dried up stems from wreaths of dead roses. Genevieve exited her car and slammed it shut. She sighed as she sat down before the old crosses, with her knees up. The wind simmered down for a moment, and for that moment, the desert was the quietest it had ever been.

"Hi, guys. I missed you. I almost didn't come. Thankfully, my boss made an exception and gave me the long weekend off. She's really cool. She's a lot like you, Mom." Genevieve spoke. "Um, it's officially been ten years," She cleared her throat. "Which means, I've gone ten Christmases, Thanksgivings, Birthdays, Easters, Spring breaks, New Years, Halloweens, and... Labor Days, alone." She looked down at the pale dirt between her knees, then up at the trio of crosses. "I wish you could've seen me grow up. You guys would've been proud, I know it. I don't always make good decisions. But I get better every time." She lightly chuckled. "I suffered a lot of heartbreaks. Some of which I wish I had you there, Momma. They would've been much easier to handle. I've also gotten rejected from many jobs, and I know you could've given me some of your wisest yet painfully redundant words of advice, Poppa. I've also encountered many bullies in my life, and I know you would've taken care of them in a second, Derek." With a deep sigh, Genevieve's eyes drowned in a wall of salty tears. "Unfortunately, shit happens." She blinked away the tears and wiped her face. "And by shit, I mean asshole drunks driving red pickup trucks in broad daylight."

After what felt like hours, Genevieve slowly stood up. "I love you, guys." She dusted the dirt from her denim shorts and walked back to her car. With the turn of her key, the engine roared to life and she made a U-turn back down the road before glancing back one last time. Genevieve drove towards Needles, a city in the San Bernardino County, right by the border between California and Arizona and the banks of the Colorado River. She and her family traveled to Needles every Labor Day Weekend to also visit Bullhead City, Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada. Sometimes even pass through Las Vegas to see the Casinos at night.

Genevieve finally made it to Needles, a once lively city now practically a ghost town. She pulled into a lot of a Motel complex right after exiting Route 66 where her family would always stay in. Best Motel was a white rinky dink motel with red doors and rooftops, and only six cars parked in front of it. They would always reserve Room 26, and traditionally, So would Genevieve long after. The gravel under her worn out boots crunched with every step as she climbed out of her Buick and strolled towards Reception. A small, old, balding Indian man vigorously jotted down on his binder with Hindustani music playing in the background. As Genevieve entered, he looked up from his work and smiled a crooked, white smile. "Genie!" He extended his arms. "Mister Jindal," Genevieve smiled sweetly. He quickly exited his booth and hugged her. She reciprocated. "Good to see you, How are you?"

- "Same old, same old, Mister Jindal. How is Somi?"

- "Ah, she is good. A little saddened the boys are off to Uni next week," He chuckles and Genevieve smiles sadly. "Poor Somi. She'll be okay. Can I get the room, please?" She pulls out her wallet. Mister Jindal's smile disappears. "Oh, Genie. I am very sorry. The room is occupied. It was taken this morning, actually." Genevieve gapes, disappointment etched on her face. "But... Mister Jindal, I always get Room 26..." She whined quietly. "I know, I know, Genie, I truly apologize. But unfortunately, there was no reservation from your part," He says apologetically. She exhales in frustration. The one time she doesn't reserve the room is the only time someone takes it. "But, room 27 is vacant! Would you like to take it?" Mister Jindal immediately adds. Genevieve thinks for a second. She's traveled for six hours, she wasn't about to turn her heel and leave. With a conforming groan, she nods and pulls out some cash. "Yeah, I guess I'll take it."

After the transaction is made, Mister Jindal gave her the key to her room for the next three days and the remote control for the television she never used. As she made her way to room 27, a figure stepped out of the room next door, the room she was supposed to stay in. He had sun-kissed skin, shaggy charcoal hair and a wife beater with jeans. He squinted as he stepped into the sun and pulled out his shades to prop them on his face. Genevieve scowled at him as she passed him by and he raised a brow at her as he looked back at her entering her room.