The Meadow 65 the house. Albuquerque in the spring is no place I’d want to be in an off-the-grid yurt, but not much bothers Judah. “Thanks, Mik,” he says, as he takes the blue mug and rubs the sleep from his eyes. After few sips, he squints at me. “You look awful. Lupita?” “Brigid,” I counter. He rolls his eyes. “What’s it this time?’ “Grand theft rib-eye.” “She only gets away with this shit because she’s white.” He’s gearing up to go on a rant, and I’m in no mood, but of course I take the bait. “Says the straight, white, middle-class dude.” He shrugs. “I don’t break the law.” Got a permit for this?” I gesture at the walls around us, smirking. He rises from his cot, his 6’2” frame stooped under the sloping side of his sad structure. “I’m only testing it out before someone buys it. Aren’t you gonna be late for work?” I check my phone. “Dammit.” “Hey,” he calls as I dash across the yard. “You don’t deserve this shit from either of them.” Lupita is waiting for me at the employee entrance, her hair a plaited black snake tossed over one shoulder, when I arrive at the library. “I know.” I slip my ID badge around my neck. “I’ll make it up to you.” “There’s no time today,” she says, her full lips in a pout. “When do we open again together?” I run my hand over the schedule on the wall. “Sunday. I’ll come in early, so we can—” She pulls me to her. Before I can protest, she kisses me hard on the mouth. I lean in to pull her closer and she backs off. “You better,” she says, before turning on her heel and sauntering out to the front desk.
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