As I round the last bend before Hacienda, I realize it’s still kind of cloudy, but there’s no sign of rain yet. I see that it is 2:30PM; I still have lots of time left in my day. I think I’ll unload the groceries, fold laundry, take another short walk with the dogs, and then just relax the rest of the day.
Back at Hacienda, things have quieted down. The stench is out of the air. Bubba and Terry are nowhere to be seen. I don’t see anyone really, except ol’ Harley. Perfect! I unload my goodies and laundry, walk the dogs, and then put them in the fenced area for a while. It is still not raining yet, and the temperature is wonderful! As I stand there watching the mud hens, a mosquito bites my ankle. Damn it anyway! I should have bought some insect repellant, even though I don’t believe in putting chemicals on my body, perhaps this would be the time to drop that rule. I go inside to apply tea tree oil on the mounting itchy spots on my legs, arms and neck.
Tea tree oil has a very unique aroma. I am so used to the smell, but when someone else smells it, they are not quite sure what it is that they smell. It’s tart and intense. I don’t really care right now. I just need relief! Tea tree oil gives me relief. I put on socks, shoes, long comfortable pants, and long sleeved cotton shirt. I hate shoes! I’d much rather be in my sandals any day.
The iced coffee drink gave me enough of a buzz to want to go for another walk. I am dressed to avoid the mosquitoes, so I might as well get out for the last walk today. I get my pepper spray and put it in my pocket. This time, I take the dogs over on the other side of the lake. There are four new RVs parked in spaces but the majority of them are empty. Some kids are riding their bikes around the park. I decide to let the dogs dig for a while. They love that! We end up just off the dirt road about twenty to thirty yards, between the forest and the road. I am edgy about the coyotes, so I keep an open eye for any signs of them. Bonita and Bandito have chosen a fallen dead pine tree to walk on and dig under. They dig like little gophers. To my surprise, Bandito comes out of his current hole and has a mouse that he shakes and kills. I’m not real happy about this, but have submitted to the fact that this is what happens sometimes. He’s very proud, and looks at me to see if I am watching. Bonita comes over to check it out, and then dives into the hole that Bandito had found the mouse in. She comes out with another mouse, and kills it. “Okay! That’s enough! You two just better hope that you don’t become part of the food chain yourselves!”
We walk back onto the road and round the park. Ray is sitting at a picnic table at the bend where the water pipe comes into the lake. He is sitting with a heavyset man by a trailer. They are having a cocktail together. The trailer is one of the more permanent looking ones.
“Well, good evening, pretty lady!”
“Hi Ray.”
A dog that is chained up by the men jumps up from his spot under the table and lunges toward us. Thank God he is chained up! My dogs do likewise, and the chaos of barking ensues.
“Come on over and have a drink with us!” Ray yells out to me.
“I don’t think that would work out right now, maybe next time. I better get these guys back to the trailer before they hurt your dog.” They both laugh at that.
We pass Bubba’s trailer. The golf cart is parked out in front. I hear a TV set inside. The kitties are over near a bush, so I walk the dogs on the furthest side of the road to make sure they do not see them. There is a truck parked to the side of the trailer next to Bubba’s. That must be where Little John lives. Music is coming from inside the trailer. Everyone seems to be relaxing today.
At my own space again, I open a can of organic split pea soup and have an early dinner. By 5:30 I am having one of my favorite drinks, gin and limeade. I stay inside and fuss around with nesting details in the trailer while listening to my Native American Indian music and burn some sage to help purify the negative energy of the previous occupant. The gin is helping to take the edge off. I think about the power of music as the soothing sound of a flute vibrates the surrounding walls of my mind. It takes me to a place of silence and peacefulness I can seldom possess. I often want to remain in that place that music takes me to, but like a light switch, it evaporates in human routine and responsibility.
A few hours later, I turn the cassette to side B and take my first shower in the trailer. The space is claustrophobic, but the water is hot. I feel even better after the shower. I am soaking my feet and ankles in a bucket of warm water and Epsom salts at the dining area when I hear a knocking on the side of the trailer. It’s Bubba! He’s carrying a twelve pack and looks like he might be drunk!
“Bubba! What’s going on?” I say as I open the door.
“YA NEED A FIRE PIT!” Sounds more like, “YANEEAFURPIT.”
“A fire pit? Yeah, that would be nice.” The Native American Indian music reaches the end of the cassette, clicks off, and vanishes.
“ALLBILLYAONEMORROW,” when he really means, I’ll build ya one tomorrow.
“Really? I’d love that!” What in the hell is he doing here? Where’s his crazy ass girlfriend?
“WHERE YA FROM ANYWAY?”
“Me? You mean originally?”
“YEAH, ORIGINALLY.” The word ‘originally’ is really difficult to understand.
“Well, I was born in Dodge City, Kansas, and my family is mostly German.”
Bubba’s out-of-focus eyes try to look me up and down. “I’M PORCACHEZ!”
I laugh, or should I say, I giggle. “Pork and cheese?” I say this because this is what I heard him say, and I can only believe that he is making some sort of a joke.
“NO! WHAT A YA TALKING ‘BOUT! I SAID PORCACHEZ!”
“Bubba, I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Pork and cheese? What is pork and cheese?” I start to laugh again. It isn’t consciously. It’s just that I don’t get what he is saying, and he’s drunk, and It’s all coming out distorted in this stupid conversation!
“POR-CA-CHEZ!” he says as his hand grabs hold of my fragile door for support.
Suddenly, I get it. “Oh, Portuguese!” I say as I look near the stove for a knife, and wonder if I really had it in me to stab his hand if I needed to.
“YEAH DAMN IT! PORCACHEZ!”
“Sorry Bubba. I didn’t mean to be rude, but it just sounded like pork and cheese.” He’s getting that look. The same look I remember from my younger days. That look that men get when they’re horny, kind of a cross-eyed thing. Oh my gawd, he’s interested in me!
“Well, Bubba, I sure do appreciate you dropping by. I need to get inside now. You know those damn mosquitoes and all. Have a good evening now.”
“YOU TOO! I’LL BE BY TOMORROW AND BUILD YA A FIRE PIT. I’LL TURN THESE HERE STEPS IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION TOO!” he shakes the steel stairway checking its weight, looking something like an angry gorilla.
“Great, Bubba. Good night now.” I say as I close the broken door leaving Bubba standing there. For heavens sake! Oh no! This is going to get weird! Terry would kill me for sure if she knew he was interested in me. At the same time, it is nice to be flirted with when you’re fifty-one. Maybe I still have it in me. Good gawd, shut up! If I can’t get someone other than a stupid jackass like Bubba attracted to me, then let me die an old spinster.
I pull the bungee cord as tight as possible, and hook it on the stove handle. I turn off the lights and crawl into bed, Bonita and Bandito following my lead. Before my head even hits the pillow, I jump back up out of the covers, climb down to find my pepper spray, check the bungee cord one more time, climb back into bed putting the pepper spray under my pillow.
I lie in the darkness of the fifth wheel waiting to hear one of the two drunk idiots creeping around outside my door. One to rape me and one to kill me, yet all I hear is the onset of a gentle rain shower.
Chapter Six
I wake from a nightmare of a treeless world. A huge slobbering black bear is chasing me on an empty, dusty, planet. He must smell the blood, the blood from my period. The earth explodes! The trailer rattles. I instantly awake from hell. Three logging
trucks speed by. I get out of bed and go to the toilet to check if I had started my period. Abruptly, I remember that I had a hysterectomy twenty years ago. Evidently I am not quite awake yet. I finish in the restroom and go to make some coffee. I open the windows to get some air. Outside it smells like wet earth from the rain shower in the night mixed with a hint of pancakes and maple syrup. Only here would you find this aroma. An RV is parked by the propane tank. I must have slept in.
It takes me a while to shake the nightmare from my mind. Bubba comes out to fill the guest’s propane tank. He is talking in his loud, jovial manner, and laughs much too often. Who does he thinks he’s impressing? Is his fake, friendly display for my benefit? The propane-purchasing guest seems to be ignoring him. After the RV leaves and Bubba returns to the kitchen, I unhook the door and take the dogs out to stretch and shake off my bloody nightmare.
Inside at my table, I once again count my money.
Let’s see—canopy, $29.99+tax, around $35.00, $50.00 for groceries and calling card, $12.00 for duck seed, $5.00 for apron, $20.00 for gas, equals $122.00. I had $110.00 left, plus $75.00 in tips. That leaves me with $63.00. I believe payday is on Friday. Today is Monday. I better not spend any more money until then.
I cook myself some scrambled eggs with a slice of toast wondering what to do for the day. I could put up my canopy, take a drive to the creek and hike, call the family, empty holding tank, and, oh, watch Bubba build me a fire pit. That is, if he remembers that he said that last night.
I take the dogs out to the fenced area with my coffee in hand and think about where I would like my fire pit. It would be smart to keep it far enough away from the giant propane tank. Perhaps right there, in front of my picnic table. I walk around and turn the valve to empty the holding tank. I do not need to use the water hose anymore, since the water is now hooked up and I can fill it from a pump switch inside. With all this flushing, it should be squeaky clean by now.
Big puffy clouds fill the blue sky. I go inside to get the keys to my car. The large canopy box is in the back seat. After getting all the parts laid out, and reading the instructions, I begin to assemble my shaded patio.
I move the table and fencing closer to the side of the trailer, so that the canopy, table, and fence will be right outside, to the left of the steps, and connected to the trailer. I manage to construct the canopy, and use heavy rope to brace it to the trailer and picnic bench, just in case it gets windy. I am satisfied that it would take a tornado to blow this away. My trailer and picnic bench would go with it if that happens. I arrange the fencing so that I can just open the door for the dogs, they can walk down the steps without leashes, and be in the shaded, fenced area.
Breakfast must be over, because Bubba is leaving the kitchen and driving the golf cart in my direction. “WE GET SOME POWERFUL WINDS THAT BLOW THRU HERE!” Bubba is looking at my canopy.
“I’ve tied it down to the trailer and the picnic bench. I’m hoping it will withhold any wind.”
Bubba gets out of his golf cart to check out the construction. “YEAH, THAT MIGHT WORK.”
“That golf cart looks fun to drive.” I am making small talk.
“SCOOTER! IT’S NOT A GOLF CART! IT’S A SCOOTER! CAN’T YA TELL THE DIFFERENCE?” You can see the blood rush to his cheeks when he’s mad. It’s not very flattering.
“Sorry.” I say even though it’s not true.
Bubba is now looking at the steps. Bonita and Bandito are looking at Bubba from the fenced area. He begins to open and move the fencing out of his way to make room to move the steps. I panic that the dogs will escape, and wrap the fence back together and out of Bubba’s way. He lifts the steps like an elephant and slides it over to where it should be.
“Thank you Bubba! That will be so much better now. I sure appreciate that.”
Bubba spits out a stream of tar. “NO PROBLEM! I’VE GOT STUFF TO DO, BUT I’LL BE BY LATER TO BUILD YA A FIRE PIT. TERRY AND I WILL BE BARBECUING TONIGHT. WE’D LIKE YA TO COME DOWN AND JOIN US.”
“Uh, maybe Bubba. I’m not sure what I’ll be up to then. That’s very nice of you to think of me. Can I let you know later?” I already know my answer.
“YEAH, WHATEVER. I’M GOIN TO BE PLANTIN YA A LAWN HERE SOON.”
“A lawn? Really? Right here? In front of my trailer?”
“YEAH, RAY AND I BEEN THINKIN ABOUT THAT FOR SOME TIME NOW. I GOT THE SEED IN THE COLD STORAGE ROOM IN THE KITCHEN. HAD IT FOR SEVERAL MONTHS NOW. WE’LL HAVE TO WORK THE SOIL WITH THE TRACTOR FIRST.”
“Cool! A lawn would be extremely nice!”
“BETTER GO! “ Bubba goes over to the rear of the scooter and gets himself a beer.
“Okay, see you later. I’m going for a drive after a bit, but I should be home later this afternoon,” I tell Bubba.
“YEAH, THE FIRE PIT’S GOIN’ RIGHT HERE.” He walks over to a place some ten yards away from my trailer. I personally think it is too close to the propane tank, which has a warning on it (that I read on passing) that says, ‘Do not smoke or have open flame within 40 yards of this tank’. According to my estimated calculations, that spot appears to be only about 20 yards away. I also think it would be too far away from my table to enjoy it properly. I say nothing to Bubba now, but will approach the subject later.
“Thanks for moving the steps Bubba.” He drives towards his trailer.
As I stand there in a daze, I see the ducks playing at the water’s edge, and it makes me remember the duck seed in the car. I put the dogs inside and get my car keys. The steps are so much easier to walk up now! I drive the car over to the rear of the kitchen. The bag is heavy, so I slide it out and over to the storage room. It is left unlocked during the day. I find the large bag of dog food with the pan inside for scooping, and lay the bag of duck seed upright next to it. I open the duck seed with a pair of scissors hanging from a nail on the wall. Outside I hear the ducks quacking. They are getting louder and approaching the storage room. Sounds like I’ll get to see how they like the new feed!
“Well, hello there!” I say to the ducks. They are almost inside the storage room now, so I scoop a pan full and walk over to the lake’s edge. I toss the seed onto the ground. They love it! I stand there watching, and look over in the direction of Bubba’s trailer. My heart stops when I see his large frame far off in the distance, looking this way, with his hands on his hips. Why do Bubba and Terry make me feel so shitty when I try to do something nice? He goes back into his trailer and I drive to the front of the building to call Lori.
My radio is on in the car. At first I am not paying too much attention, since it is the news, and then I tune in when I hear about the fires in Oregon. It seems that there are several fires in the national forests of southern Oregon. More than 400,000 acres have burned! My God! That’s nearly half a million acres! The fires are still out of control at this point!
I am glad that Lori answers.
“Lori! This is Denise. I just heard about the fires! My God! This is horrible!”
“Denise! I’m so glad you called! You should be glad you’re not here. The smoke blowing in is horrible! It’s so bad, that we have to stay inside with our air conditioners going! Cars are even breaking down, due to the ashes clogging up the filters. Ash is all over everything! This is devastating!”
I begin to cry. I feel the tears on my cheeks. I remember my nightmare of a treeless world.
“Denise? Are you still there?”
“Yes, Lori, I’m still here. It’s just that this is so sad. Where will all the animals go? How much more will it burn? How did the fires start?”
“From what I’ve learned, they began during a heavy thunderstorm on Tuesday night. I think that’s the day you left Ashland.”
“Yeah, I remember that storm. I was camping.” I cringe thinking back on that night.
“How are you anyway, Denise? How’s the job coming?”
“Oh, it’s just fine. This can be a really busy place at times. I’m learning how to be a fast-fry cook, that’s for sure. There’s
a guy here named Bubba. He’s a big ole’ logging type of good ole’ boy. I think he wants me, but I don’t want him! He has a bitchy girlfriend and they kind of intimidate me, but besides that, Billy and Ray are wonderful people and I’m glad I’m here to help them out. I think I might be able to make some good money this summer.”
“Cool! I’m glad everything is working out for you. You know you can come back here anytime you want. Maybe at some point, I can come see you with Tiki and the kids.” Tiki is Lori’s daughter. The kids are Lori’s grandchildren, Jacy and Kiowa.
“I’d love that! Well, I’m using my calling card, and I still have to talk to mom and dad and my boys, so I love you, and I’ll call you soon. I’ll be thinking about you and I’m going to get a newspaper right now.”
“I love you too. Take care.”
I call my sons, but can only say ‘I love you’, because they are both in the middle of a large real estate sale. I call my parents, but only get an answering machine. Mom must be on the internet. Finally, I get a newspaper from a stand next to the phone booth.
Since I have to move my car, I decide to cruise the area. I drive down the dirt road into the forest, to see where the trash is, and also see if there are any coyotes in there, being the curious soul that I am.
That funny feeling I had in my stomach the first time I walked in here, returns. I am blown away by the amount of leftover forgotten junk! Skeletons of a lost life, place, and time; discarded in nature, a cancerous growth from humanity’s carelessness. I am repulsed at the sight of it and have taken drastic measures to assure that I remain innocent of the crime of over-consumption. Practically everything I own can now fit into my car. The precious things, like photos of my sons when they were children, and the few things I treasure, are in half a dozen boxes in my parent’s garage.
I have no desire to own things anymore. My motives for this type of behavior range from complex to clear-cut and can be summed up from the mental list I have stored carefully away, which in itself is a contradiction and burden, storing ‘stuff’ inside my brain. Someday I will discard those skeletons too. Primarily, it is an environmental issue. We are guilty of draining the earth of its natural resources to produce stuff, and then we need to build huge houses, houses far too large for our needs. Of course this is done so that we may have a quick profit in order to buy, build and store even better stuff in a better house. We need to have our favorite stuff near us so others can envy our stuff and want that stuff too, and then we need to build acres of asphalt, cement, and steel to store all the extra stuff we don’t need, but can’t throw away. Sometimes our stuff is no longer wanted or needed, so it is taken to a large hole in the earth that we have dug to bury our stuff. We need something to haul our stuff around in, so we buy three or four of these just in case one breaks down. We all have one of these, so we need more asphalt and cement so that we have pathways that spread from one side of the country to the next so that we have quick access to buying more stuff.
GRILL! Page 9