by B K Nault
“I guess I’d know if it was my own mother.”
His reaction was too sharp, and he regretted hurting her feelings, but he was losing his patience and she was probing a place he never wanted to revisit.
“What about the rest of your family?” She dropped his hands to stroke the dog’s head.
“I’m the only one left.”
“Oh, honey.”
Head against the rough tree, Harold shut his eyes, wishing she’d drop the subject. He thought maybe to be polite he should ask about her family. But before he could, a shadow crossed his face and he panicked, thinking she’d stood up to leave him, but when he opened his eyes, he saw it was Morrie standing over them.
“Good afternoon, Harold. Miss Pepper.”
Pepper patted the blanket next to her. “Morrie, from the coffee cart, right? It’s nice to see you. Have a seat, join us!” She pulled Glenda into her lap to make room for the man who dropped to the ground, his legs sticking out straight. “Do you like dogs?”
“I do. Yes.” Morrie nodded but didn’t pet the dog. “I saw you three playing Frisbee earlier. What a nice family unit you make.”
Sometimes Morrie’s word choices seemed off, but his idea to call them a family touched a soft spot Harold had almost forgotten. He was glad to have someone, anyone, change the subject from the ’scope.
“We’re out of sandwiches, but I think we have some lemonade left.” Pepper shook the thermos.
Harold wondered if she minded being called his family. He got up and froze as millions of tiny hypodermic needles pierced up and down his legs. He waited until he could put weight on his feet without pain.
“I’m surprised to see you here today,” Pepper told Morrie while she poured him a cup. “Don’t you get tired of the park?”
“You mean after working my coffee kiosk here all week?” Morrie accepted the drink from her. “I live alone, as Harold knows. This gives me a place to share the beautiful day with others.”
Pepper laid a hand on his arm. “Tell us about yourself, Morrie. How long have you lived here?”
“A long time.” Lemonade trickled down his grizzled chin. He accepted a paper napkin from her. “I was an only child, and my parents are…have been gone many years now.” He scruffed Glenda’s neck, sending her tail into a slow whomp.
“Harry was just telling me his family is gone as well,” Pepper told him. “We’ll just have to be each other’s family won’t we?”
“You have no one?”
Pepper drew up her knees, hugging them. “Enough sadness, let’s talk about happy places. Where’s your happy place, Harry?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. I can’t get far without…by walking.”
She spread her arms wide, startling Glenda, who licked her elbow. “Sky’s the limit, the world is yours. Where would you go? You know, when things are bad and you just need a brain vacay.”
He knew, but hesitated. “Yosemite, I guess.” Confessing it aloud for the first time was cathartic and less embarrassing than he anticipated. “Always wanted to see it.”
“I saw all your framed pictures of it and assumed you’d been.” Pepper got up on her knees. “You’ve never seen Half Dome, Bridal Veil Falls? You’ve lived in California all your life?”
Morrie squinted through shafts of late afternoon sun. “I’ve never seen it either.”
“I’ll take you both! I used to go camping there with my dad.” Her face bloomed, eyes sparkling.
Harold fiddled with his pocket change. “Of course Morrie can’t get away. Who would run his cart?” He knew he’d disappointed her by the way she squinted at him. The corner of her mouth quirked down, her lips a thin straight line. So he backpedaled. “I’m just concerned. You don’t have anyone else to run it while you’re away, do you?”
Pepper ran a hand in the crook of Morrie’s arm. “It’s really beautiful there. And the wildflowers will be out soon. Let’s plan it now, or we’ll never go. We have a three-day weekend coming up. Who’s in?”
“I can shut down a few days. Besides, on holidays when many offices are closed, my business is slower anyway.”
Pepper threw an arm around Morrie. Harold pushed back an unexpected surge of heat in his belly. Silly to be jealous; who was he to this fantastic woman?
“I have a distant cousin who I believe works up there now.” Morrie was now leaning against the tree in the same spot where Harold had been. “Perhaps we can look him up when we go.”
Before Harold could voice his curiosity, wondering why he’d just said he had no family then all of a sudden had a long lost cousin, Pepper clapped, bouncing up and down. “Even better, that will give us a goal!” She began replacing their picnic items into the bag she’d used to carry their sandwiches. “Harry, you can be in charge of finding us a campsite. Morrie, give me your cousin’s name, and I’ll do some phone calling, and maybe we can find him before we get there. Do you think he works for the park service?”
“Oh no, that’s too much work for you,” Morrie protested.
“Nonsense, I don’t mind. You’re out here all day long, and I sit at a desk. I can make some calls and do some snooping. Isn’t this going to be fun, Harry? What would you like to do while we’re there?”
“I have the interview to prepare for.” Harold wasn’t certain he’d even agreed to go. “Campsites and rooms get booked a year ahead up there. No way we’ll get reservations, and I don’t like just showing up—”
“They have cancelations all the time and there’s also first come, first served sites,” she told him. “But if we get there early enough we have a shot at one.” Pepper clapped her hands together. “It’ll be like a treasure hunt.”
“What about rats, isn’t there a virus epidemic? Or bears?” Harold ticked off all the concerns she obviously hadn’t considered. “We can’t tent camp—”
“I know what the problem is.” Morrie rubbed a thumb through his sideburn, making a scratching noise. “Harold would like you all to himself. A romantic weekend. Perhaps you can bring me some pictures.”
Harold liked how that sounded. Romantic weekend.
But Pepper ignored Morrie’s protest. “No sir, you and I are absolutely going. It’s all set! Harry, you can stay home and fiddle with your PowerPoints, but we’re going to grab life by the horns, right, Morrie?”
****
Walter scribbled his fake name on the signature line and handed the clipboard back to the tow truck driver, anxious to get to work. The final piece of his plan had taken decades to bring together, but the day had arrived. A money order purchased with the dribs and drabs of coins he’d saved in the change jar, a burner phone to call the storage yard, bribe included, and he had finally pulled it off. After all his years of hiding and keeping a safe distance, at last his diligent patience was about to pay off.
Chapter Twelve
On Monday morning before the three-day weekend, Rhashan’s grin appeared over the top of Harold’s cubicle. “Say, mon. How you been?”
“Just fine, Rhashan.” Harold shoved aside his guidebook, anxious to begin demonstrating his new skills.
Maintain eye contact with co-workers, the chapter advised, because productivity can be directly correlated to personal satisfaction in relationships in the office.
“And may I say that you have been doing a fine job lately.” He squeezed out a smile for the Jamaican, focusing on a point between Rhashan’s furrowed brows.
“Why…thanks, Mr. Harold.” Laughter rippled from the other side of the room. Rhashan tipped his knit cap toward the cubicle where everyone else in the department but Harold had gathered. “Everyone’s looking forward to the break. You got plans for the t’ree-day weekend, too?”
“Not really. Preparing for the interview,” he hastened to add.
While it’s not necessary to share personal information with co-workers, some find the intimacy comforting and necessary.
“I’m taking my son and wife to the beach. You should come wid us.”
Harol
d hated the sand, gritty between his toes, the bitter, cold saltwater, and how angry his freckles grew after even a few hours of exposure.
Before his mother left him, she’d slather him with white cream, then herself with some coconut-smelling oil, unfurling a portable cabana where she’d lie and read while he played with his bucket and shovel. “Go find some nice kids to build castles with,” she’d say. It was one of the only places she found peace, unburdened from the tumultuous life his father built for them. The last time they’d gone, his father had found them, a bottle in a paper bag, swilling it back and swooning toward him. The last sandcastle he’d ever built washed away as they discussed divorce, unaware Harold was within earshot just outside the pop-up.
Show appreciation, even when you’re not interested in developing friendships beyond the office. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
“Mr. Harold, I heard you were on the short list of interviewees.” Rhashan gave him a thumbs up. “Good luck.”
“It’s not luck, Rhashan, it’s…how did you know?”
“Mr. Gordon, he tell me.”
Gordon. Harold’s nemesis. They’d been hired at the same time, and Gordon had eclipsed Harold ever since. But just barely. And if Harold was going to win this time, then Gordon’s self-inflated hot-air balloon of pomposity would need to be grounded. “What exactly did he say?”
Rhashan studied the wall over Harold’s shoulder. “He say the reorganization board would only have two names, his and yours.” The silver-ringed finger pointed at Harold’s tie. “And after the interviews, there wouldn’t be any question who would make a better choice.”
“Is that right?”
“Ya, mon. I hear him talking in the break room.” Rhashan rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand over his stomach. “He brought in a box of pastries. Heaven in a cheese roll, I think someone say. There may be some left if you want one. I go check for you?”
“No. Thanks, Rhashan.” Gordon was at it again. He’d been out to Porto’s and bought bribes. Inexpensive treats can help create camaraderie. Harold’s only options within walking distance included the doomed church, the pharmacy where he had his allergy medicine refilled, the dry cleaners, a convenience market and a veterinarian. He calculated adding another errand to his Saturday in order to purchase a break room offering to rival Gordon’s.
“And Mr. Gordon invite everyone on his fine boat for fishing this weekend.” He pronounced fine as if it made his teeth vibrate.
“That’s nice of him.”
“No, mon. You should go. You like to fish, Mr. Harold?” He frowned. “It’s not good to be alone so much.” Before he continued with more advice, Rhashan straightened and smiled, gaze focused across the room. “There he is now.”
Tan, tow-headed and towering over Harold, Gordon beamed at Rhashan, then into the cubicle. “Good day, Harold.” Gleaming Italian loafers snaked past. “I see you’re still on last month’s spreads.” He shot one last barb over his shoulder. “You should be closed out by now. Tell that lovely wife of yours hello for me, Rhashan.”
If there was anything Harold resented, it was someone reading his screen uninvited. And worse, commenting on his progress. His jaw worked in vain while he searched for a suitable retort.
The wheels on Rhashan’s cart squeaked to action. “See you later.”
“Wait.”
Rhashan had to step back so he could see Harold. “Yes?”
“How…” He hadn’t the time to prepare his question, hoping Rhashan didn’t guess what he was really asking. “If you were to choose between us.” He realized of course Rhashan was the wrong person to ask about who should be promoted. “Never mind.”
“You feeling overshadowed by Mr. Gordon?” Rhashan’s adoring gaze lifted over Harold’s head. “I don’t know about how he do his job, Mr. Harold, but Mr. Gordon, he knows something about making people happy when he see them. Always telling jokes, bringing pastries. I t’ink you are good worker, though, and dat speaks for itself, too.”
****
On his way home after work that evening, Harold had stopped to open his mailbox when Pepper ambled up, cellphone to ear.
“That’s right, I know it is very last minute, but if you have anything available…”
He waited for her to hang up, pretending to study the PennySaver.
“Hey, you.” She swung open her own mailbox. “Come in for a minute?”
Glenda ran up, but Harold thrust his knees together in anticipation before she could make intimate contact. “Sit, girl.” Instead, she pressed her bony head against him so he would scratch her neck. “I was wondering…I heard you on the phone.” He plunged ahead before he chickened out. “If you’re still going. To Yosemite. I’m in.”
Pepper squealed and clapped, and Glenda yipped until Harold worried the neighbors would complain. “What changed your mind?” The conversation with Rhashan and Gordon’s plans to take everyone fishing spurred Harold to make a daring decision. After Rhashan left him, a rant Georgia had a few weeks before she left came back to haunt him. “The older you get, the more I think your grandma was right about the DNA doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re going to become a weird recluse alone, desiccated like an old mummy with your hands on the keyboard when they find you dead someday.” Georgia’s remark replayed in his mind, but her intended cruelty was losing its sting.
Pepper grabbed his hands, jerking him back to the present, and she spun him around to face her. “I’m so glad! We’re leaving first thing Saturday. Pack warm because it might even snow!” She grabbed Glenda’s leash from a hook by the door. “Let’s go over to the park and tell Morrie.”
****
While they walked across the street, Pepper chattered about how she knew they would get a campsite, and how much fun it would be to get out of the city. When they got closer to the cart, she talked even faster pulling Harold along until he trotted beside her.
“Guess what? I spoke to someone who might be able to help us find your cousin.” Morrie almost spilled the latte he was pouring as she spoke to him in her excitement.
“James, his cousin, may be going by the name of Joseph now,” Pepper told Harold. “They want to see some kind of ID from you, and they’d see if there is a way to contact him for you.”
“Thank you.” Morrie sounded more astonished than pleased as he handed the cup over to the customer. “That’ll be two seventy-five.”
****
Saturday morning, they loaded overnight cases, three sleeping bags, snacks, and sodas into Pepper’s small car. They pulled into the flow, already heavy with Angelenos headed out of the city for the three-day weekend. When they cleared the city, the small car sailed up the middle of the state, passing fields of crops rising from the turned earth of America’s “salad bowl,” where table grapes, almonds, strawberries, and asparagus grew by the acre.
By dusk, they found the campground, and Pepper was right, they were assigned a small site until Sunday afternoon. It was still light outside, and Morrie left them almost as soon as they’d pulled in, saying he wanted to take his laptop and find a Wi-Fi spot. He promised to help them unpack when he was finished with whatever urgent business he couldn’t wait to accomplish.
It only took a few minutes to set up the small tent where Pepper would sleep, and then Harold let her guide him toward a boardwalk that spanned a field of tall grasses. Half Dome rose above them. Despite his doubts about whether the trip would be of any use to Morrie, he had to admit he was glad they’d come. He was finally in Yosemite.
“Come here, sit.” Pepper found a bench, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, admiring the beauty of the mountains rising around them. “Tomorrow we can take one of the tours. Would you like that, Harry?” Pepper swung her feet, Glenda’s leash swaying, looped over her brown ankle. The dog didn’t seem to mind, but Harold had to avert his eyes. “I expect there are climbers up there right now.”
He tried to make out any evidence of life on the magnificent, rounded granite stone presiding over the treed v
alley. At the bottom, thirty-foot tall blue oak trees appeared tiny, their pale, blue-green leaves fluttering against the white bark.
“Kind of makes you feel small. I wish we had some binoculars.”
Her hand warmed his. “Do you believe in God, Harry?”
“Not really.”
“How can you not really? It’s pretty much one way or another.”
“I just don’t see the connection. If he’s there, why not make himself more obvious?”
Pepper breathed deeply of the cool mountain air, filling her lungs. The rattle had returned, and she coughed into the bend of her elbow. “I have to believe there’s some kind of higher brain than us. I think we’re not all there is, Harry. I have to believe.” She guided Glenda to a grassy spot where clumps of manzanita lined the trail.
Harold followed them, stepping around a mud puddle to keep his new hiking boots clean.
“Tell me why you change the subject when I ask about what you saw in the ’scope.”
“I’d like to enjoy the day if you don’t mind.”
“Come on, Glenda!” They sprinted away from him, and Harold tried to admire the vista, but he couldn’t get her question out of his head. He wished he hadn’t been so curt. She was leaning over, inspecting a bush. He strolled over and could see it was covered with tiny, almost microscopic, purple blooms.
“What about the ’scope?” Pepper moved off as soon as he was alongside her. They flushed a raucous flight of magpies.
“What do you mean?” She stopped several feet away, and he tried to keep from making eye contact as she turned to face him.
“How do you explain complexity? If there isn’t something out there in the Universe bringing everything together?”
He lifted his shoulders, dropped them. “I don’t know how it works. There are theories.”
“Then explain the ’scope. Forget the mysteries of the universe. Explain what lies in your pocket.”