Page 45 of Missed Sunrise
“Vinh isn’t sure either,” he continued. “It’s something we’ve discussed a lot this past year. We don’t think there’s much to do about them.” His gaze went distant once more, but there was wisdom in its depths as he added, “And if there’s one thing thatwon’t put someone in a bad mood in a better mood, it’s the feeling that other people are trying to manage them.”
Liem’s unique variety of straightforward honesty might always surprise me. It really was an experience to ask a question and get an immediate, honest answer.
It almost made even the most basic of conversations with him intimate, and I had to make a note to myself to remember to not ask him a question unless I knew I was ready for the answer.
Vinh foundtwo side-by-side spots downtown for our geriatric vehicles, and once I opened my tailgate and he swung open his back door, we had prime spots to watch the Mardi Gras night parade.
Naturally, he’d come prepared with a camping lamp, water bottles, and some soft pillows and blankets, while the only thing my pickup had to offer was rust stains and inexplicable pieces of pine straw.
Bree stood in the road, which was blocked off to traffic by the Bay Springs sheriff’s office, excitement lighting her face as she turned to me and Vinh. “Wanna go check out the booths?”
Vinh closed the distance between them and took her hand in agreement, and she turned to me expectantly. Liem had melted into the crowd with barely a parting wave the moment we’d arrived.
Fidgeting with a piece of that pine straw from my truck bed, I squinted at the bloated crowd of festival goers, their costumes of purples, greens, and yellows, taking in the way they were yelling over and at each other as well as the general mayhem. I didn’t think I had it in me to sit here for the twenty or so minutesbefore the parade started, but the idea of mingling amongst the revelers made me equally claustrophobic.
So, I swung my legs in a semblance of nonchalance and waved them off. “Nah, I’ll catch up with y’all later. I might go find a bathroom in a minute before it all starts.”
Vinh frowned at me before asking, “Think you could find my brother when you go? He left his phone in my car, and if he gets stuck on the wrong side of the street before the parade starts, he probably won’t be able to cross back over until it’s finished.”
A directive was exactly what I needed, so I nodded. “Sure thing.”
Bree smiled at me before tugging Vinh toward the central green space, and I was only able to track them for a few heartbeats until they were lost in the crowd.
Then I hopped down from my truck and began my hunt.
It only took a minute of crowd weaving to realize that my scowl was of no use here. Everyone bumped into one another without care, and individual expressions were impossible to discern. Faces of kids and adults alike were painted, the lighting on the street was scattered and multicolored, flashing at random intervals that made the entire experience feel like a walk through a demented fun house.
My skin crawled, and the longer I walked, the faster my heart beat and the slower my reactions and computing of my surroundings came until eventually, I was trudging through the world in slow motion.
When the gazebo in the middle of the town green finally came into sight—the only landmark I could identify—I had a thick band of colorful Mardi Gras beads around my neck and no memory of how or when I’d gotten them.
I soldiered past the food trucks and the booths selling bubble guns, light-up wands, and feather boas. The sounds of a marching band and drumline boomed in the distance, loudenough to pierce the noise of the giant speakers that had been blasting upbeat jazz throughout the town.
Passing the last group of tailgaters before I made it to the center of town, a plastic cup of beer was thrust into my hand followed by a slap on my back, and the ground beneath my feet wobbled.
Dropping my chin, I focused on them as I trudged on, but then my mind opened and reality shifted further, and there wasn’t grass or sidewalk beneath my feet, but patterned carpet. When I tore my eyes away and glanced up, it wasn’t residents and visitors of Bay Springs enjoying a hometown parade, but vacationers at the bon voyage party on the cruise ship.
The plastic cup of beer in my hand was a serving platter full of cocktails, and I was hustling through a wild crowd, trying to remember where I was supposed to deliver them.
I forced my feet to stop, and the liquid dripped down my hand and then my arm.
When I had just about reached the absolute end of my overstimulated rope, I realized I was at the gazebo.
Two figures stood in its opening, and I instantly recognized one as Liem Lott. The other was a stranger to me. A stranger who had his hands on Liem’s face as he leaned into him.
I dropped the beer, reality somehow crystal clear as the liquid splashed against my ankles.
12
Liem
The merrimentof Mardi Gras surrounded me as I hurried toward the gazebo, hoping to deal with my business there before the parade started.
Last week, I donated seven paintings to the Beautify the Bay committee—or the BTB as they bravely called themselves—for a raffle fundraiser. The BTB oversaw all official town events, and once per day for the week leading up to the parade, they’d posted one of my paintings online. The chairwoman, Mrs. Debbie T. Hand of Mardi Gras Cat fame, asked me to do the honor of drawing the winners’ names before the parade began. Once drawn, they would take the slips of paper onto the BTB float and do a live announcement when their float reached the middle of the parade.
It was all very exciting, and I had almost made it to their booth when an enthusiastic reveler threw out his arm in wild gesticulation and sent me flying through the air. I threw out my own arms to break my fall, but by great misfortune, I landed right on a concrete curb. My hands had valiantly tried to saveme from the brunt of it, but their attempts were for naught as stinging pain sliced my head and palms.
“Liem!” someone called just before I was turned over onto my back. Even as I groaned, my eyes couldn’t help but dance over the symphony of colors above me, so bright that they blotted the stars that’d been trying to reveal themselves in the early night sky.
