November 24 10AM
Deirdre is driving. We left Albuquerque at 9AM. There air crackled and the clouds rolled. A storm was moving in. Usually, the sky was full of tourists in hot air balloons on the horizon. They were all grounded today. I wonder how it might affect the annual Pow Wow. Last year, I went to observe all the Native American tribes in their clothes and their dances. I wanted to go again but Deirdre was intent on escaping. It is the day after Thanksgiving and we are heading out to campground near Roswell.
November 24 12:00PM
Dierdre has been talking about her boyfriend non-stop. I stared at my magazine but that did not deter her. I dropped the magazine in frustration. It’s impossible to read The Economist when someone is babbling constantly about a wedding to a man who hasn’t even proposed to her.
November 24 12:45PM
We stopped for lunch. Cheeseburger, onion rings, milkshake. Dierdre opted for a salad. Something about losing 15 pounds for a wedding that might happen in the future.
November 24 1:30PM
Roswell. Small town with a creepy past. No one is walking on the streets. Everything is shut down for the holidays. I finally see a man in a cowboy hat enter a saloon. Our eyes locked for one second.
November 24 2:00PM
A billboard depicting an alien spaceship and a green alien waving hello. Welcome to the Campgrounds. We stopped at a convenience store and bought water, beef jerky, chips, and candy. We set up the tent 500 feet from the restrooms and on a flattened hill overlooking the valley and Roswell.
November 24 10:03PM
Weird lights in the sky. Dierdre said it was the air force. I focused on the stars. So many of them scattered across the darkness.
November 25 9:31AM
Dierdre is nowhere around. I fell asleep on the camp chair. My neck hurts. Guess Deirdre went to the restrooms or maybe she walked to the showers. Her truck is still parked in the distance.
November 25 1:14PM
Finished a bag of Cheetos. My fingers are stained with orange cheese. Dierdre still isn’t back. I’m worried. I don’t have the keys to the truck. I’m going to read. Arthur C. Clarke.
November 25 11:36PM
Flash of light. Then I could hear screaming. It was Dierdre. She ran up the hill. She was out of breath. Hair and eyes wild. Fuck. I was going insane most of the day thinking I was stuck in the campgrounds. WTF. She keeps talking about a spaceship. I’m pissed. I convince her to lay down. Get into the sleeping bag. When she falls asleep…
November 26 2:08AM
Holy shit. My hand is shaking. I went down the hill. In the middle of the dirt was a door. A glowing, blue door. I kept rubbing my eyes and then I pinched myself. The door remained. Then it cracked open. Fuck. Why was there a door in the middle of the campgrounds??
November 26 8:05AM
Deirdre is driving. We are silent. Finally, I asked her if she had seen a door. She shook her head. My boyfriend in the light, she said. Pause. Did you see something, she asked. A door, I said. Did you go through it, she asked. No fucking way, I said. Pause. You should have gone through it, she said. I looked back. Roswell was a pale blur. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t open doors. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t get abducted. I’m not the kind of person who won’t shut up about their boyfriend. I’m not the kind of person…I chucked Arthur C. Clarke out the window and was able to finish reading The Economist by the time we reached Albuquerque.