“I’m not in the habit anymore,” she said, “and with the heat, I’ll probably fall asleep if I have any more.” Which was a script, but a well-worn one. She could plug anything in instead ofheat.
“It’ll knock you right out,” said Jenny, from down the table. “The heat, I mean. When it gets about August, nobody does anything until sunset.”
“Ah, but you’ll be used to it by then,” said Lupé, next to her. “It doesn’t take as long as people think.”
Selena thought about protesting that she was certainly not going to be here in August, but then that would make the conversation about her and perhaps people would try to convince her otherwise. She took a swallow of wine instead.
Now she washed the wineglasses, and remembered the taste.
Copper had been given the job of precleaning the plates, which probably meant that Selena would be sleeping in a room with a very gassy dog. Still, she hated for the food to go to waste, and she’d been rationing their food out so carefully that Copper was thrilled with the feast. And everyone just put their plates down on the floor as if it was normal to have a black Lab helping in the kitchen, so she couldn’t very well complain.
“You’ve been eating eggs and sandwiches for two days,” she told Copper, picking up another cleaned plate. “Chicken and rice must be better for you.” Copper lolled her tongue, pleased.
After the meal, there was more wine passed around. Gordon and Grandma Billy told stories and laughed at each other’s jokes. Father Aguirre sang a hymn in a very good baritone, and everyone joined in,even Selena, although she didn’t know the words and could only do the chorus.
She felt awkward singing in public—always had—but everyone else was, and it would be more awkward not to do it. It sounded enthusiastic more than beautiful. Walter would have cringed.
When the song stopped, though, everyone laughed and cheered as if they’d accomplished something. Lupé sat on the floor and scratched Copper’s belly. Copper, who had no dignity at all, lay on her back and moaned cheerfully, one hind leg kicking now and again.
Before everyone could gather their things to leave, Selena had tried, delicately, to broach the topic of employment. It proved the night’s only disappointment.
“Not that I wouldn’t hire you to wash dishes over at the cafe,” said Lupé, “but there’s barely enough work to do right now as it is. In a couple months, maybe, when the tourists show up.”
Selena’s heart sank. A couple months seemed like an eternity. Though she could probably get by with the credit that Aunt Amelia had left her ... but then, how long would it take her to earn the money for the train ticket?
“Do you know anything about sheep?” asked Gordon. Selena was forced to admit her ignorance of sheepkind. “Ah, well. I ask ’cause people can always use help with the shearing. But I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you, yeah?” She thanked him, because what else could she do?
There were tons of leftovers, including most of a large tray of tamales that Lupé had brought. Selena tried not to eye them with lust in her heart.This is what I’m reduced to. Coveting my neighbor’s tamales.
“Somebody take those,” said Lupé. “They need eating up and I’m changing the special tomorrow.” She scraped them out of the pan into several plastic containers, then tucked her tray under her arm and waved. Gordon took a small container and followed, and everyone else trickled away in ones and twos.
Grandma Billy and Selena were the last ones to leave. “Good to see you again,” said Father Aguirre, shaking her hand. “I hope you come out again. It’s good to have a new face at dinner.”
“Particularly one who will wash dishes!” said Grandma.
Selena ducked her head, embarrassed. She was about to ask if she could claim some of the leftover tamales, when Grandma Billy made the matter moot by picking up the remainder and piling them into Selena’s arms.
“Oh—I—err—” She looked at Father Aguirre helplessly. “Is it okay if I ...?”
“Please do,” the priest said. “Lupé believes firmly that she is all that stands between any of us and starvation. My refrigerator is already groaning with past daily specials.”
Selena wasn’t entirely sure if she believed him, but if he was being charitable, he was doing it gracefully. She followed Copper and Grandma Billy out into the desert night.
It was much cooler than she’d expected. The desert had released its heat quickly, and the breeze was almost cold. It was also much louder. The cicadas had stopped their sound-numbing buzz and things chirped and yipped and skittered. She tightened her grip on Copper’s leash.
Grandma Billy didn’t seem concerned by the noises. “That was fun,” she said. “Sorry nobody’s got anywhere to work right yet, though.”
“All those years as night manager of a deli,” said Selena wryly, “when I should have been learning about sheepshearing.”
Grandma snickered. “When I was young, they told us to learn typing. Said you’d always have something to fall back on. Might be true in a city, but out here, I can’t say there’s much of a secretarial pool.” She spread her arms wide. “Still, I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Look at those stars!”
Selena looked up. The stars blazed fiercely overhead, brighter than any sky she’d ever seen in the city. Not that you could see the stars very well through the haze of light pollution.
“When I was little,” she said out loud, not stopping to think about it, “and my dad took me camping, the stars looked like that.” She thought that she could make out the thick band of the Milky Way. Was that even a thing you could see with the naked eye? She knew roughly as much about astronomy as she did about sheep.
“What about in the city?” Grandma Billy asked.
Selena shook her head. The city sky was dull orange at night. Even with all the scrubber systems in place, there was nothing to be done about the light pollution. She hadn’t seen the stars in a long time.
