The last rays of light played along the peak of South Mountain as the brilliant purple and umber hues of another glorious Arizona sunset faded into twilight. Most of the guests had already arrived, and Juan was sitting in the place of honor at his brother Roberto’s house. They were in the backyard with his uncle Fernando and several other older men sitting together, drinking beer and eating tacos, frijoles with rice, and tamales.
There were no official seating arrangements, but most people tended to gather into clusters. Juan’s mother and her friends sat a little ways off. Roberto had rented an inflatable bounce house and set it up on the lawn, and kids ran around it chaotically. The few stragglers still coming were careful to make the rounds, shaking hands and greeting the neighborhood’s elders before sitting down to eat from the Styrofoam plates delivered to them by Juan’s nieces and their friends.
Juan’s brother Roberto produced a bottle of tequila from beneath the plastic tablecloth covering one of the folding tables. He passed out red solo cups and poured a generous shot for each man sitting at the table.
“Here’s to you, hermano,” Roberto raised his glass in a toast, “America’s newest citizen!”
As they drank the blaring trumpets and thumping bass from Banda Los Sebastianes began playing and the men replied with wild calls of approval. The rapid-fire lyrics boomed from the speaker:
If you are waiting to go see me in a coffin
Just to visit me
If you want to tell me how much you loved me
It will be too late
Right now is when I want to see all of you
And not right on the day of my burial
In life!
None of the men tried to sing along with the refrain, but they all joined in the chorus, “En vida!”
“Don’t quit your day jobs!” The gruff voice of Richard Thompson rebuked the would-be singers. Richard was Juan’s boss from the metal fabrication plant. “You’re gonna get all the coyotes riled up.” He was always cantankerous, and no one took him seriously. Besides Richard, the only other white guy at the party was Rob Lewis, Juan’s neighbor.
“Hey, hey, Juan!” Roberto signaled to his brother to lean closer so he could be heard over the music. He needn't have bothered. Roberto’s booming voice carried above the din. "Now that you’re a citizen, are you gonna vote for Donald Trump?” He laughed and tilted his empty solo cup to indicate he needed a refill.
Juan furrowed his brow thoughtfully as he also signaled for a refill. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts. “Well, I guess I never really thought about that,” he confessed.
What will the partygoers say?
Choose Option 1: Trump is a Racist
Choose Option 2: Biden is Too Old.