* * *
Back in El Modena Kevin went to work campaigning against the Rattlesnake Hill development, just as Tom had suggested. He and Doris went down to the town’s TV studio and made a spot to put on the town affairs show, going over their arguments one by one. They walked around an alternative model of the hill with the development on it, one that showed the roads necessary, and had the landscaping changed so the extent of the buildings was more visible. Oscar directed the spot, and added points to their argument, including a long section he had written himself on the water requirements of the new structure. Doris pointed at graphs of the costs involved and the expected returns, the possible population increase, the rise in the cost of housing in the town when people poured in. “We set the town’s general policy over a long period of years, and it’s been a consensus agreement about El Modena’s character, its basic nature. If we approved this construction all that would change.” Every graph made a different point, and Doris walked from each to each, leading the watchers through to her inescapable conclusion. Then Kevin showed videos he had made on the hill, at dawn, in a rain shower, looking down at the plain on the clear day, in the grove on the top, down among the sage and cacti, with the lizards and ants. Bird song at dawn accompanied these images, along with Kevin’s laconic commentary, and an occasional cut shot of South Coast Plaza or other malls, with their crowds and concrete and the bright waxy greenery that looked plastic whether it was real or not.
It was a good spot, and the response to it was positive. Alfredo and Matt did a rebuttal show which concentrated on their economic arguments, but still it seemed to Kevin that they had won the first TV round, surely one of the crucial ones. Tom saw a tape on Ganesh, and in one of their frequent phone conversations nodded happily. “That will get you votes.”
Then, at Tom’s urging, Kevin went out door to door, stopping at all the big houses and talking to whoever was there for as long as their patience allowed. Four nights a week he made himself go out and do this, for two hours at a time. It was wearing work. When he got tired of it he thought of the hill at dawn, or of the expression on Alfredo’s face that night on the bikes. Some people were friendly and expressed a lot of support for what he was doing; occasionally they even joined him for the rounds in their neighborhood. Then again other households couldn’t be bothered. People told him right to his face that they thought he was being selfish, protecting his backyard while the town shares languished. Once someone accused him of going renegade against the Green party line. He denied it vehemently, but it left him thinking. Here was where the party organization could help—there should be lots of people out doing these visits, or making calls. He decided to go up and see Jean about it.
* * *
“Ah good,” Jean said, looking up from the phone. “I’d been meaning to get you up here.”
Kevin settled into the seat across from her.
She cut off the speaker on the phone: “Let me get back to you, Hyung, I’ve got someone here I need to talk to.” She tapped the console and swung her chair around to face him.
“Listen, Kevin, I think it’s time to slack off on this idea of Alfredo’s. It’s medical technology he wants to bring into town, not a weapons factory. It makes us look bad to oppose it.”
“I don’t care what it is,” Kevin said, surprised. “The hill is wilderness and was slated to be made part of Saddleback Park, you know that.”
“Right now it’s zoned open space. Nothing ever happened with that park proposal.”
“That’s not my fault,” Kevin said. “I wasn’t on the council then.”
“And I was, is that what you’re saying?”
Kevin remained silent.
Jean swiveled in her chair, stood, walked to her window. “I think you should stop campaigning against this development, Kevin. You and Doris both.”
“Why?” Kevin said, stunned.
“Because it’s divisive. When you take an extreme position against a development like that, then it makes the whole Green party look like extremists, and we can’t act on real issues.”
“This is a real issue,” he said sharply. She eyed him from the window. “I thought this was what the Green party was about—slowing growth, fighting for the land and for the way of life we’ve got here. It’s the Green party that made this town the way it is!”
“Exactly.” She looked out the window at the town. “But times are changing, Kevin, and having established the town’s style, we have to see what we can do to maintain it. That means taking a central position in affairs—if we do that, all subsequent decisions will be made by us, see? You can’t do that when you’re at one extreme of community opinion.”
“But this is exactly what we stand for!”
“I know that, Kevin. We still defend the land. But I think that land can be put to use, and it will actually be good for other land around the town.”
She wouldn’t say anything more. Finally Kevin left, frustrated to the point of fury.
“I just don’t understand her!” he exclaimed when he described the meeting to Oscar. “What the hell does she mean, good for other land? She’s just caving in!”
“No, she’s not. I think she and Alfredo are working out a deal. I’ve been hearing rumors of it in the town offices. The work we’ve been doing has put pressure on Alfredo, and I think Jean feels it’s a good time to get him to make concessions. The Greens lay off on Rattlesnake Hill, and in return Alfredo puts all the rest of the Green program through the council.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Well why didn’t she tell me that?”
“She probably figured you wouldn’t go along with it.”
“Well she’s right, God damn it!”
He went back up to see Jean again. “What’s this I hear about you making a deal with Alfredo?” he said angrily, the moment he walked into her office.
She stared at him coldly. “Sit down, Kevin. Calm down.”
She went to the window again. She talked about the Greens’ gradual loss of influence in the town. “Politics is the art of the possible,” she said again at one point.
“The thing is”—finally getting to it—“we’ve taken a bunch of polls in town about this issue, and they show that if it comes to a town referendum, we’re going to lose. Simple as that.
“Now that may change, but it’s my judgment that it won’t. Alfredo, though—he can’t be as sure. It’s a volatile situation.”
And Alfredo knows things you don’t, Kevin thought suddenly.
“So he’s nervous, he’s feeling vulnerable, and he’s ready to deal. Right now. It’s a matter of timing—we can get him to agree to do things now that he simply won’t have to agree to later on. Now, this development could be good for the town, and it can be done in a way that won’t harm the hill. At the same time, we can get Alfredo to agree to the back country plan and the big garden strip down by the freeway, and the road and path plan, and a population cap. He’s willing to go along with all that. Do you see what I mean?”
Kevin stared at her. “I see that you’re giving up,” he said absently. His stomach was contracting to its little knot of wood again. Nothing but scattered images, phrases. He stood up, feeling detached. “We don’t have to concede anything to him,” he said. “We can fight every one of those issues on their own merits.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do!” Anger began to flood through him, gushing with every hard knock of his heart.
Jean gave him a cold stare. “Listen, Kevin, I head the party here, and I’ve talked with all the rest of the leadership—”
“I don’t give a shit who you’ve talked to! I’m not giving Rattlesnake Hill away!”
“It’s not giving it away,” she snapped.
“I’m not trading it, either.”
“You were elected to fill a Green slot, Kevin. You’re a Green member of this council.”
“Not any more I’m not.”
He walked out.
<
br /> * * *
He went to see Oscar and told him what had happened. Was it legal for him to quit the Greens while he was holding a Green slot on the council?
Oscar thought about it. “I think so. The thing is, while you’re the Green on the council, your policy is the Green policy. See what I mean? You don’t really have to quit the party. You can just say, this is what Green policy is. People may disagree, you may get in trouble with the party, and not get picked to run again. But there’s no legal problem.”
“Good. I’m not running for re-election anyway.”
But after that, the nightly house-to-house campaigning got more difficult. A lot of people didn’t want to talk to him. A lot of those who did wanted to argue with him. Many made it clear they thought he was waging a personal war with Alfredo, and implied that they knew why.
* * *
One night after a particularly tough walk around he came home and the downstairs was empty, and he went up to his room. Ramona was with Alfredo and Tom was on his ship and Jill was in Bangladesh and his parents were in space, and thinking about it he began to quiver, and then to tremble, and then to shake hard.
Tomas appeared in his doorway. “Home late, I see.”
“Tomas! What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a break.”
“You’re taking a break?”
“Yeah, sure. Come on, everyone’s got to take a break sometime.”
“I wish I had this on videotape, Tomas, we could use it to pry you away from your screen more often.”
“Well I’m busy, you know that. But I’ve been finding I get a twitch in the corner of my right eye when I look at the screen for too long. Anyway, let’s go down to the kitchen and see if Donna and Cindy have left any beers in the fridge.”
“Sure.” So they went down to the kitchen and talked, about Yoshi and Bob, Rafael and Andrea, Sylvia and Sam. About themselves. At one point Kevin thought, I’m catching up on the life of the guy who lives in the room right next to mine. Still, he appreciated it.
* * *
Another time after an evening of campaign drudgery he went to the town hall restaurant to have dinner, thinking some chile rellenos and cervecas were just what he needed. Late summer sunset dappled the trees and walls of the courtyard, and it was quiet. The food was good.
He had finished, and Delia had cleared away his plate and was bringing him a last cerveca, when Alfredo walked out of the city chambers across the yard. He was at the wrought iron gate when he saw Kevin. Kevin dropped his gaze to the table, but still saw Alfredo hesitate, gate in hand—then turn and walk over to him. Kevin’s heart pounded.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Uh,” Kevin said, unsure. Alfredo looked uncertain as well, and for an awkward moment they froze, both looking acutely uncomfortable. Finally Kevin jerked, shrugged, waved a hand, muttered, “Sure.”
Alfredo pulled back one of the white plastic chairs and sat, looking relieved. Delia came out with Kevin’s beer, and Alfredo ordered a margarita. Even in his distraction Kevin could see Delia struggling to keep surprise off her face. They really were the talk of the town.
When she was gone, Alfredo shifted onto the edge of his chair and put his elbows on the table. Staring down at his hands he said, “Listen, Kevin. I’m … real sorry about what’s happened. With Ramona, you know.” He swallowed. “The truth of the matter is…” He looked up to meet Kevin’s gaze. “I love her.”
“Well,” Kevin said, looking away, intensely ill at ease. He heard himself say, “I believe it.”
Alfredo sat back in his seat, looking relieved again. Delia brought his margarita and he drank half of it, looked down again. “I lost sight of it myself,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s why all this happened, and, you know.” He didn’t seem to be able to finish the thought. “I’m sorry.”
“There was more to it than that,” Kevin said, and drank his beer. He didn’t want to go any further into it. Talk about love between American men was a rare and uneasy event, even when they weren’t talking about the same woman. As it was Kevin felt impelled to order a pitcher of margaritas, to cover the awkwardness.
“I know,” Alfredo said, forging onward. “Believe me, I’m not trying to take anything away from you—from what happened, I mean. Ramona is really unhappy about what … well, about what us getting back together has meant for … you and her.”
“Uhn,” Kevin said, hating the babble the subject of love always seemed to generate.
“And I’m sorry too, I mean I never would’ve tried to do anything like what’s happened. I was just…”
The margarita pitcher arrived, and they both set about busily filling and drinking the glasses, lapping up salt, their eyes not meeting.
“I was just a fool!” Alfredo said. “An arrogant stupid fool.”
Again, as from a distance of several feet, Kevin heard himself say, “We all lose track of what’s important sometimes.” Thinking of Doris. “You do what you feel.”
“I just wish it hadn’t worked out this way.”
Kevin shrugged. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
Had he said that? But it was as if he was taking something from Alfredo to say that, and he wanted to. He was by no means sure he believed any of the things he heard himself saying; yet out they came. He began to feel drunk.
Alfredo drank down his glass, refilled, drank more. “Hey, I’m sorry about that collision at third, too.”
Kevin waved it away. “I was in the baseline.”
“I shoulda slid, but I wasn’t planning to when I came in, and I couldn’t get down in time when I saw you were gonna stay there.”
“That’s softball.”
They drank in silence.
“What—”
They laughed awkwardly.
“What I was going to say,” said Alfredo, “is that, okay, I’m sorry our personal lives have gotten tangled up, and for fucking up in that regard. And for the collision and all. But I still don’t get it why you are so opposed to the idea of a really first-rate technical center on Rattlesnake Hill.”
“I was gonna say the same thing in reverse,” Kevin said. “Why you are so determined to build it up there on the hill?”
A long pause. Kevin regarded him curiously. Interesting to see Alfredo in this new light, knowing what he now knew about Heartech and the AAMT. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, pressing harder. “If this center is all you say it is, then it could do well anywhere in town. But we only have one hill like that, still empty and left alone. It’s a miracle it’s still that way after all these years, and to take that away now! I just don’t get it.”
Alfredo leaned forward, drew incomprehensible diagrams in the condensation and salt and spilled liquor on the table. “It’s just a matter of trying for the best. I like to do that, that’s the way I am. I mean sure, the better the center does the better it’ll be for me. I’m not free of that kind of thinking, but I don’t see why I should be, either. It’s part of trying for the best you can.”
So interesting, to see him rationalize like that—to see the strain there, under the moustache, behind the eyes!
Kevin said, “Okay, I’d like to be a hundred myself, and I like to do good work too. But good work means doing it without wrecking the town you live in.”
“It wouldn’t be wrecking it! To have a center that combined high tech labs and offices with restaurants, an open deck with a view, a small amphitheater for concerts and parties and just looking at the view—man, that’s been the goal of city planners for years and years. More people would use the hill than ever do now.”
“More isn’t better, that’s the point. Orange County is perfect proof of that. After a certain point more is worse, and we passed that point long ago. It’s gonna take years to scale things back down to where this basin is at the right population for people and the land. You take all the scaling back for granted, but you value the results of it too. Now you’re getting complacent and saying it’s okay fo
r major growth to start again, but it isn’t. That hill is open land, it’s wilderness even if it’s in our backyards. It’s one of the few tiny patches of it left around here, and so it’s worth much more as wilderness than it ever could be as any kind of business center.”
Kevin stopped to catch his breath. To see how Alfredo would rationalize it.
Alfredo was shaking his head. “We have the whole back country, from Peter’s Canyon Reservoir to Black Star Canyon, with Irvine Park too. Meanwhile, that hill is on the town side of things, facing the plain. Putting the center up there would make it the premiere small center in southern California, and that would do the town a lot of good!”
Suddenly Kevin could hear the echo in the argument. Surely this was exactly what the AAMT representatives had said to Alfredo when they were putting the arm on him.
Fascinating. Kevin only had to shake his head, and Alfredo was pounding the table, trying to get his point through, raising his voice: “It would, Kevin! It would put us on the map!”
“I don’t care,” Kevin said. “I don’t want to be on the map.”
“That’s crazy!” Alfredo cried. “You don’t care, exactly!”
“I don’t care for your ideas,” Kevin said. “They sound to me like ideas out of a business magazine. Ideas from somewhere else.”
Alfredo blew out a breath. His eyebrows drew together, and he stared closely at Kevin. Kevin merely looked back.
“Well, hell,” Alfredo said. “That’s where we differ. I want El Modena on the map. I want on the map myself. I want to do something like this.”
“I can see that.” And behind the dispassion, the somehow scientific interest of watching Alfredo justify himself, Kevin felt a surge of strangely mixed emotion: hatred, disgust, a weird kind of sympathy, or pity. I want to do something like this. What did it take to say that?
Pacific Edge: Three Californias (Wild Shore Triptych) Page 27