Authors: Charlie Price
“I need to get away. Out of this area. That’s the thing … the only thing.” Angel was staring at the bookshelves, thinking. “Arizona was a stupid idea. I don’t know anybody there. Really, I don’t know anybody anywhere, so any place away from here will do.”
“Momo up here, or has he gone back already?” Ramón asked his wife.
She shrugged.
“What do you think? He could take her to Rita’s place on his way to Brawley.”
“Momo? Brawley?” Not names Angel had heard before.
“My brother’s son,” Ramón said. “Works at the sugar refinery in Brawley. That’s about thirty miles south of Salt Shores where Rita lives. He could swing you by on the way, if he hasn’t gone already.”
“You gonna bring him into it?” Carmen was frowning.
“Hey, we all aren’t into it?” Ramón asked her. “You got a better idea, say it.”
“
Nuestro sobrino
. What if he gets hurt.”
“All I’m saying,
cara
, is everybody is somebody’s nephew. Who would you have me put in danger?”
Carmen sighed, but stayed silent.
“Momo’s a good boy,” Ramón said. “Smart,
listo
. He’ll watch out. Take good care of you. And Rita’s tough. Got three or four kids, works Head Start. Gotta be tough.” Ramón continued to look at Carmen as he spoke, sensitive to her approval.
Carmen was shaking her head. “You said it yourself. What’s Rita gonna do with another kid?”
“She got resources,
cara
.”
“
Tú sabes
, Ray. They’re
pobres
. Poor as mice.”
The conversation was a little hard to follow but Angel got the gist of it. She would be a burden, no matter who she wound up with. If she could just get a ride she could go it alone.
“So, yeah,” she said, interrupting them. “I’ll go with Momo.”
11
Angel was on the porch with Ramón and Carmen early the next morning when their nephew drove into the dirt compound. His shiny charcoal-colored pickup raised dust that glinted in the sunlight and added a flint smell to the sweet climbing roses. Angel carried one of Carmen’s old sweaters and wore her own freshly washed T-shirt over the woman’s green denim jeans that were four or five sizes too large. A woven belt kept them in place. On her feet, a pair of Carmen’s tennies, too wide but laced tight enough to work. Ramón had given her a cotton feed-store cap. The lumpy clothes embarrassed her but they were clean and she was grateful. If Scotty drove by he wouldn’t recognize her unless he studied her face.
And now a dark-haired, dark-eyed teen in a cowboy hat was resting his elbow on his open pickup window and giving her a once-over while she looked totally doofus. Great. She took her eyes off his brown arm and gave Carmen a quick hug. She looked at Ramón. Would she ever be able to hug a man without thinking of Jerry or Scotty? She couldn’t reach out but she appreciated him more than she could say.
“I get it,” he said, smiling. “Hey, good luck. We’ll come visit when things die down here a little. Me and some guys are making those phone calls this morning. See what happens.” He extended his hand.
Angel shook it.
“Gotta go,” Momo yelled behind her.
It wasn’t like she had bags. She jogged to the truck and got in. The cab smelled like french fries and fresh laundry. Mexican accordion music played on the radio.
Momo waved and rolled out, taking the lane down Thousand Palms Canyon and over to Highway 10. He drove the speed limit, occasionally glancing at her and fiddling with a toothpick. After he made the turn on 86 South he told her it would take about half an hour, forty-five minutes, depending on the traffic. He smiled. Dropped it. “Heard you had some trouble,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Angel had been trying to study him without being obvious. Western shirt, sleeves rolled high, stained Levi’s, round-toed boots. His teeth flashed when he smiled. His hands were scraped, his knuckles large like Scotty’s, like they’d been broken.
He saw her looking. “Sugar mill. Machinery’s tough on hands, but I still got all my fingers. Not all the
hermanos
can say that.”
“I don’t really speak much Spanish.” She kept her eyes forward.
“You’ll learn. Pretty interchangeable down here. Used to be Mexico.”
Angel hadn’t known that but she didn’t say anything.
“
Hermano
, brother.
Hermana
, sister,” he explained. “Stuff ends in ‘a’ is usually feminine.”
Feminine? Can words be a sex? Thinking that made her blush even though it wasn’t what she meant.
“You’ll like Rita.”
Angel didn’t have anything to say to that. She didn’t plan to be there long.
“You in school?”
Angel shook her head.
“Me neither. Had to drop and go to work after Mom got sick. Don’t matter. I’ll get my G.E.D. this fall.”
“G.E.D.?”
“General school test. You get your diploma if you’re not in school. It’s easy.”
Angel was interested but she didn’t want to ask more questions. Didn’t want to sound stupid.
“You got brothers or sisters?”
Angel shook her head.
“Lone wolf, huh?”
Angel didn’t respond but she thought about it. She didn’t see herself as a lone wolf, but what? A cactus? She snorted a laugh and covered her mouth, embarrassed. Better to look out the window. Nothing good could come of talking and she wasn’t comfortable alone with him in the truck.
She was frustrated to see so much dry open country with no towns of any size. It wouldn’t be like she could walk into an urban maze and lose herself. There was enough traffic to make hitching easy, but Scotty might be traveling these roads on the lookout for her. She didn’t think he’d give up until she was dead. Didn’t think he’d go out of state or change anything about the way he operated.
Momo seemed content to drive and listen to the music. He offered her a stick of paper-covered gum but she declined. She could tell he was really curious about what had happened to her but too polite to pry.
Surrounding the road, the desert sand was bleached nearly white, with scatters of tall palms every few miles like orchards of some kind. Oases? From time to time they’d pass trails through isolated patches of dense shrub leading west toward hazy mountains on the horizon. Through the windshield to the left she glimpsed the blue-gray water she’d heard was the Salton Sea. Far in front to the right the earth took on a brownish hue. “What’s that?” she asked.
“The Anza-Borrego. Another desert. Lotta people go out there four-wheeling. Real craggy, rough.”
She nodded.
“I work south of that. Brawley. Way greener. Irrigated … Oops. Almost missed it.”
He turned left onto a narrow paved road beside a StopShop convenience store, and entered a dilapidated residential area in the middle of nowhere. Weathered pastel houses hardly bigger than one-car garages, shabby trailers with tattered awnings, clumps of weeds crowding every mailbox, plastic bags snared against metal fences.
Aside from the strip next to the highway, there was no sign of regular businesses or children playing. Telephone lines formed cross patterns overhead, and above the roofs Angel could see tops of palm trees sticking up like silly green hair. A half-mile distant, lines of trailers faced the giant salt lake under a washed-out sky. A ghost town baking in acres of grit.
“Amazing place, huh?” Momo said, smiling. “Except for the club and the convenience store, people don’t go out much. Early morning, dusk, you see kids biking around, guys working on cars in their yard. Sunday evenings a lot of families go to mass down there.” He pointed ahead at a light brown metal building the size of two trailers sitting in a graded field near the street.
Angel had trouble believing people lived in these places. They looked abandoned. “Club?”
“There’s a marina has a little general store, tables and a counter, sells beer. Like the community center. ‘The club’ to locals.”
Angel felt the hair on her neck rise. She couldn’t stay here. She’d stick out. The newcomer. Within two days everyone would know who she was, would know her story. If Scotty got this far, one question would find her.
“The guy’s after you, he’d never look here,” Momo said, maybe sensing her alarm. “Who would? Right? And Rita’s good people. Head Start’s a couple of streets over. And you got your choice of houses, see?” He nodded to a deserted wood-shingle cottage, paint faded and peeling, front door standing open, overturned couch visible inside, attached garage open with tires and trash left to rot on the concrete floor.
Momo turned left on a white gravel street of similar houses. In front of the first: a jeep up on blocks, wheels missing. He slowed at the end of the block and stopped at a faded yellow prefab with an old Toyota in the drive. Across the street sat a huge red eighteen-wheeler with a long silver trailer.
“Looks like Vincente’s home,” Momo said as he parked. “That’s his rig. He’s like Rita’s husband.”
Angel started to get out but hesitated when she noticed Momo hadn’t moved.
“Let ’em know we’re here,” he said, opening his cell phone. “They got kids. Maybe they’re busy.” He blushed, probably unsure how Angel would take his remark. “I mean it’s still early. Don’t want to wake them up.”
Angel realized that she had better pay more attention. She didn’t have any experience with these kinds of relationships.
* * *
A
NGEL HAD PICTURED
R
ITA LOOKING LIKE
C
ARMEN.
Plump, short arms and legs, thick brown hair with a home perm. She was way off. The man who introduced himself at the door, Vincente, looked like that, except his hair was naturally curly. He smiled and gave Momo a big hug.
“
Órale
, boy, what’s that
vato
been feeding you? Hay? You growing like corn, every time I see you.”
“It’s my job, Uncle. They beefing me up so they don’t need no forklift.”
Vincente stepped back and looked at Angel. “You gonna stay with us awhile?” he asked, bowing slightly. “So you’re welcome here, in spite of the company you keep,” he said, nodding at Momo.
“Invite the girl in, Tonto. Show you got some manners.” The woman’s voice was followed by a tall, slender, middle-aged Latina striding in from an adjoining room. From a distance, Angel would have thought her a man. Blue jeans outlined long legs, slim hips, a sleeveless Western blouse showed ropy muscular arms. She had a narrow face with thick dark eyebrows. Big smile. “Neither these guys know what to do around a woman,” she said to Angel. “Hi, I’m Rita.”
Angel, off guard, was speechless.
“You got things?… No, of course not. I talked to Ray and Carmen. So you want to wash up, bathroom’s down the hall, got you a bed on the porch, private ’cept for the nosy herd of goats that tear this place up when they’re not in school. If they bother you, swat ’em.”
Angel was still tongue-tied. Too much, too fast, Rita’s good-humored confidence was dazzling.
“Go make yourself useful. Finish getting the truck ready,” Rita told Vincente, shooing him and Momo from the room. She turned back to Angel and took a deep breath. “Too many changes?” she asked in a softer voice. “Important thing’s you’re welcome. Take your time. Sit if you want. You hungry?”
Angel shook her head, realizing at the same moment that she was.
“Okay, so make yourself comfortable while I get the kids fed and I’ll come back and show you around.” The woman paused at the doorway. “I’m hoping you’ll come work with me this morning. Meet the children.”
12
Things were going too fast for Angel. Out of control. She’d been way more scared when she was literally running from Scotty but at least she was on her own. She was used to that. She wasn’t used to having anyone actually take care of her. It had usually been the other way around. Reassuring her mother, giving her advice, helping her pick outfits, painting her nails and putting finishing touches on her makeup. The only thing her mom had been in charge of was the two or three hours of school reading every day. Her mom’s dad had been a teacher before he left the family for another woman, and her mom had always regretted running away on her own before she finished high school.
Angel needed to plan. Get out alone where she understood the rules. She couldn’t stay with Rita for a number of reasons. First, she would be too visible in this tiny town. Second, Rita couldn’t afford her own family, let alone another mouth to feed. Angel had walked into the kitchen and seen the kids’ breakfast. White goo. “Mush,” Rita had said. “Nutritious, want some?” Angel could tell that no one who wasn’t broke would eat that stuff.
She didn’t want to seem ungrateful after all the help that Ramón and Momo and Rita had given her. She wouldn’t leave today. Tomorrow night. She’d write a thanks note. Today she’d walk the town, see if she could scrounge some things she needed. Better-fitting shoes. Water jug. Backpack. Maybe even matches. And a map. She had to at least look at a map. Find the closest city. Disappear. When she felt safe again she would think about calling the police.
* * *
S
HE TRIED TO BEG OFF
going with Rita to Head Start. Rita wouldn’t hear of it. When she and Rita and the youngest, Jessie, went out the front door, Momo’s pickup was gone. Vincente had the truck cab tipped up and was doing something to the engine. He leaned out when Jessie yelled good-bye.
“Momo says take care,” he shouted to Angel. “Says he’ll come visit on his way back to Ramón’s in a few days.” He blew Rita a kiss and turned back to the engine.
“Classroom’s only a block or so down around the corner,” Rita said, as Jessie took off running ahead of them. “I got fifteen kids from around here. Got an aide, LaDonna, who makes the snacks and plays nurse and helps with the teaching when she can. It’ll be great to have another set of hands, and these kids can use extra attention.”