Gee, I’m getting all worked up about it again. Anyway, I quit. It didn’t make any sense. I think he had a bit of dementia going on. He often did the weirdest things in front of guests, like having his cluttered desk, computer, and piles of magazines sitting right in the middle of the main dining room. People would be enjoying the unbelievable morning buffet, and he would be talking loud on his phone and messing around on the Internet right in front of them. He was a very heavy set little person, not quite a dwarf, but almost. When he ate at his desk, he snorted and moaned, really loud! It was enough to make anyone lose their appetite! He also treated me like crap! He never complimented my work, but only increased my workload, due to the fact he had never ever had an employee with my strong work ethics before. He was a user. As the saying goes, ‘Do not cast your pearls to swine!’ I hope he misses me. I think Hacienda RV Park will also find an empty hole when I am gone. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe everything just goes on and not a soul even thinks for one single second about what is missing. Perhaps I give myself far too much credit. Everyone and everything is replaceable. I don’t really care about that. I know I’ll never change. I’ll never, ever let myself be abused by an ignorant egotistical idiot! I will never beg! I will never undervalue my integrity. ‘I own my life, and only mine.’
I think this ‘life’ needs a good hot shower. I think, and I pray to the Great Spirit within and without, that I will be okay, that I have a sense of my own destiny, that ahead there is a future of contentment and love. Not in dependence on another human being, but a firm comprehension that I will find that life has more meaning than I have yet to know. Time seems to be running out, and I am afraid that if and when I finally get to a future of contentment and love, my mind and body will even give a hoot any more. It seems I have always had the faith of a little child. As I age, my innocence becomes so irritating to me. Damn my consciousness and values anyway!
Bud’s Creek is slowing down. There are not as many fishermen now. The aqua green of the winter melt off has turned the water an emerald green. It is easy to see to the bottom of the many pools of flowing water. Bonita and Bandito do not care one way or another, they are about as happy as they can get. We walk for about an hour, and then head back.
As I enter Hacienda, I see several Highway Patrol cars leaving the parking lot. I’m hoping they have just had breakfast or something instead of a murder or arrest of some sort. Maybe the cable guy came back and killed the satellite guy. Impossible! When I think about it, there are several possible scenarios. Besides, it would be Sheriffs, not the Highway Patrol!
Once at the fifth wheel, I set the sprinkler. I do not see any sprouts of grass yet. I feed the dogs, and take a shower. When I finish, I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then head to the phone booth to call my sons.
I finally reach my younger son Eric on his cell phone. He is at Lake Havasu. His big brother James is with him. They are sitting in Eric’s cigarette boat (that can go up to 150 miles an hour) lined up with the hundreds of other boats in the canal by the London Bridge. I’m sure they have had their share of beer bongs. The boys took me with them once to the river. Never again! Everyone there seemed like they were on some sort of suicide mission! The loud engines of hundreds of boats going faster than the speed of light, drinking all day, lots of nudity, and all this fun in 110 degree weather! I absolutely hate going fast in anything! When Eric hit 100 miles an hour with me, I about died! I never want to go to the river again as long as I live. Not only that, but I ended up with a huge floater dead center in my left eye (those black spidery things that float around as you move your eye) because of the constant banging of the boat on the rough water. Such a pleasant reminder of my time spent there.
When I was married to their father we would go to the river all the time. There were several of us who would go as a group. The boys were just children then. We all had boats that went 35 miles an hour at the most. We would water ski, float around on inner tubes, barbeque, camp, and play with all the kids. There is not one single water skier on Lake Havasu anymore, no one floating around laughing and playing, and actually, no children anywhere. There is only the sight and sounds of very expensive, large, extremely fast boats showing off to each other. Anyone floating in the water must have a death wish.
“Momma! What’s happenin’ !” Eric says far too loud.
“Hello my little darlin’.”
“I miss you Mom. How have you been?” I hear the low thumping bass from the stereo of a passing boat. These stereo systems are so powerful and so expensive, they can vibrate the water for miles, and they all have them. I also can hear the high-pitched yelps of some girls nearby. I can visualize it all, everyone is in the water next to their boats, pissing out the morning’s six-pack together. The water has an oily film floating on the surface from all the parked boats. I’m sure all the fish in Lake Havasu are dead or mutated.
“I miss you guys too. Are you having fun?” I guess I want to pretend that they are still innocent little boys catching fish by a stream at summer camp, even though they never went to a summer camp.
“You know it Mom! It’s beautiful here right now. How’s your new job coming?” I will lie. I have to lie. If I told him the truth, my voice would fill with shame. Not because I am ashamed, but because we are from two different worlds, and I’ve never done a very good job at explaining my world to my sons. Maybe that’s because they never asked.
“The job is great! All is well here. I just wanted to touch base with you sweetie. I have to head to work now. Tell James I love him. I love both of you very much. Please be safe.”
“Oh Mom, you know me. I’m always safe. I love you Mom. Bye.”
As I walk back to the fifth wheel, I see the satellite guy up on a ladder at the rear of the kitchen. It looks as if he is finishing up his installation. I’ll have to try that tiny black and white TV again later and see if the picture is better now. I go back inside the fifth wheel to prepare for my day.
Upon leaving and shutting the duct-taped door, I notice a young woman with her two small children playing in and on the water’s edge of the lake. A shiver runs up my spine when I remember the sewage spill. I walk briskly over to her and tell her the truth. I cannot let these children catch a disease from this water. She is horrified! They are not camping here, and have just stopped at the restaurant for a bite to eat. She was letting the children run off some car-bound energy. I offer my hose by the fifth wheel to wash the children off.
Billy is at the front counter when I enter. She looks very tired. She sees me and asks, “Did ya see this mornins’ paper?”
Before answering her, I give her a hug. “Yes, Billy, I did. How horrible it all must have been for Ray. How is he? Can I say hi?”
“Sure, why not? He’s in his easy chair. He’s very depressed, and awfully quiet. Maybe he’d feel better seeing one of his favorite ladies.”
I walk through the doorway into their house. I hear his heavy breathing. He is facing the TV set, which is not on. I walk around to face him. His blue eyes fill with painful tears when he sees me. I can tell he isn’t up to speaking, so I do the talking.
“Hi sweetie, you’ll never know how sad I feel for you right now. I know you don’t feel like talking, so don’t, okay? It’s not that important. Would you like it if I came by tonight and gave you a massage?”
Ray smiles.
“I take that to mean yes!”
His smile becomes wider.
“Okay, get some rest. I’ll be by later. I gotta go do some cooking for you and keep that cash flow going.”
I walk next to his chair and get on my knees to be at his level. I hug him. His head rests on my shoulder. He takes a labored deep breath. I whisper to him that everything will be all right. It does not matter if either one of us believes that or not. I leave him to go to work. Billy thanks me as I pass. I can’t answer; I have a knot in my throat.
Karen, who is finishing up her shift, has an ugly sinister look on her face. She is obviously very pissed
at someone. I’m so glad it could not possibly be me! I walk into the kitchen just at the same time Bubba makes his escape. I wonder what he did. Karen approaches me with her face thrust forward on her neck like a bull charging.
“Ya didn’t fill up the sour cream cups last night!” A piece of spit flies from her mouth as she yells at me and lands on my shoulder.
“Karen, what sour cream cups? What are you talking about?” I say as I get a paper towel.
“Ya know damn well what sour cream cups I’m talking about! The ones I needed for the Highway Patrol annual breakfast this morning!”
“What annual breakfast? No one said anything about an annual breakfast, and what is a sour cream cup?”
Karen grabs a dirty breakfast plate from the pile next to the sink, and removes a small paper cup that is squished and has sour cream running from the edges. “These! Ya wur supposed to have these ready for this morning!”
“Karen! How could I have known to do this without anyone informing me of an annual breakfast that needs sour cream cups? Besides, isn’t the waitress supposed to be doing those things?”
Karen’s volume rises. “That’s what I’m telling ya! Yur the cook! Yur in charge of Jamie! Yur supposed to get her to do this! The cook controls the kitchen! It’s yur duty!”
“Karen you’re going to have to back off right now. I’m getting very pissed. I repeat; I knew nothing about an annual breakfast! I knew nothing about sour cream cups! I never knew I had so much control as the cook here. This is all new to me. Show me where the list of duties is, and the calendar of upcoming events. I’d like to read it and get all this insanity straight.” My adrenalin is pulsing through my veins. Karen is purple with rage. She tosses the dirty platter that she was holding dangerously during all this time, onto the floor, and heavy, thick pieces of it fly several feet in several directions. She gets really close to my face and screams. “I Quit!”
As she storms out of the kitchen, I calmly reply. “Silly girl, you can’t quit. You already did that last week.”
She starts to spin around to charge at me, but changes her mind, and out the door she goes!
I walk over to the grill. Grease is dripping onto the floor from the grease overflow pan. A heavily coated and crusted pot sits with less than a half an inch of gravy cemented in the bottom. Gravy is dried and dripping all over the stove. Hash browns are everywhere, as if there was a food fight. Dirty pots and pans are all over the place.
Jamie walks in and stops short of the overflowing dirty dishwater, and piles of platters full of half eaten food. Almost every table has been left dirty.
“Oh my gawd!” Jamie shrieks.
“Oh my gawd is an understatement. Good morning Jamie!” I say playfully. “We can do this Jamie. Just don’t stress out. Pretend we work someplace normal. Go to a happy place.” I smile at her, and surprisingly, she smiles back. Gee, what’s wrong with me? I’m not having a nervous breakdown! Am I adjusting to this screwed up lifestyle?
My eye catches the color of bright yellow on the shelf that displays Bubba and my coffee cups. I see a third cup sitting next to mine. It has a large yellow ‘CAUTION’ diamond on it. On closer inspection I read the caption.
‘CAUTION! Angel to bitch in three seconds or less!’ Karen didn’t need a coffee cup to say that.
At the end of my shift, I take two thick slices of grilled New York steak, an artichoke, baked potato, and slice of berry pie, back to the fifth wheel. One steak is for dinner tonight for my little friends, and myself, and one will be for breakfast. All this stress is making me need more protein. By morning this hunger I have deep inside, will hopefully be gone.
I pour myself a gin and limeade, and take my dinner, along with the dogs, out to sit under the netted canopy. I have moved the sprinkler. The ducks seem to be spending much of their time down at Bubba and Terry’s trailer. The mud hens have been spending more time near mine, probably due to the muddy ground of the new lawn area. I think about getting the slingshot, but let go of that idea as soon as I remember almost killing that little newborn chick.
After I have finished eating, I walk the dogs around the loop of the park. It’s 8:30 and a few RVs are setting up their chosen spots for the Fourth of July weekend. We will be a madhouse!
The lake seems to be getting a layer of thick green algae. I can see the mosquitoes buzzing above several floating algae islands. The water source is down to a slow trickle through the pipe. I am really bothered by the floating trash that I cannot reach. As I walk by Bubba’s trailer, I see the small, beat-up boat on a trailer that was parked in the back storage area. The boat is positioned to be unhitched in the lake. Bubba and Terry are drinking a beer by the fire pit. We wave at each other. I wonder suddenly, shouldn’t the sour cream cups have been Bubba’s job, especially since he is the breakfast cook? Shouldn’t he have made Karen get them ready? Geez! Why don’t I think of these little important details at the time I need too? It doesn’t matter; it’s all just craziness. How will we handle the big barbeque without Betty and Karen? Not to mention a worn out Billy?
I put the dogs in the fifth wheel and refill my drink. I walk over to massage Ray.
They have just finished up their late dinner. I noticed that they always eat very late, too late in the night to digest properly. Ray’s plate looks barely touched. Billy is pretty tipsy and states that she needs to take a shower. I prepare the warm wash clothes, and find the witch hazel. I have brought over my organic, unscented, body cream for the massage. Ray is reclined in his chair with his eyes shut. I touch his arm to let him know I am there.
“Well hello pretty lady,” he says groggily.
“Hello sweetie. Just relax. You don’t need to talk. I’m here to massage you.”
“Yur an angel. Ya know that?”
I smile and help him remove his long-sleeved pajama top.
He stares at me while I am doing this. I realize this is kind of an intimate thing to do, but continue as if I am a professional masseuse, which I am not, even though I spent ten years massaging my husband after he ran his twenty miles a day. I did not do this out of choice; I did it because he made me do it.
I clean up Ray’s rough patches of skin first, and then I ask him to lay face down on the couch so that I can massage his back. He does so, very slowly. I am glad I no longer have to look him in the eye. He lies there very quietly while I begin and I now notice several bruises and scrapes. I hear him moaning. I barely hear him when he speaks. “Ya aren’t thinkin’ of leavin’ us are ya?”
“No! Now what would make you think such a thing?”
“We wouldn’t blame ya if ya did.”
“You hush now. I have no intention of leaving you.”
“Can’t thank ya nuf for all yur help ‘round here.”
“My pleasure Ray. Now you hush.”
“I guess we aren’t very good managers.”
“You’re both doing the best you can. Listen Ray, I promise you that I’ll stay until you and Billy get your much-needed vacation. The only thing that would make me leave, would be if my parents became ill and needed me to help out. I’d certainly have to leave for that, and also if I am no longer happy. I mean if it gets so crazy that I am jeopardizing my own health.” I wanted to add, “or my life”, but refrain.
“That’s understandable. Ohh this feels soo good!”
“Well hush then, and just enjoy.”
Billy walks out in her nighty. She walks over to us and puts her hand on my shoulder while I massage.
“Thank you Denise.” Billy is a little wobbly and uses my shoulder to balance herself.
“I need to head to bed. Ya just cover Ray up with this here blanket when yur finished.” She bends down to kiss my cheek in the same manner that my own mother has done many times in my life.
“Goodnight, Billy.”
“Nite.”
I can tell that Ray has also fallen asleep. I go into the kitchen and spend the next hour cleaning up their kitchen from dinner, lunch, and breakfast.
&nb
sp; Chapter Sixteen
Around 9AM, I wake to a new sound in the morning. I haven’t slept this late since I’ve been here. Bonita and Bandito are cocking their heads from left to right in the direction of the new sound, the peeping sounds of ducklings. We jump down to peer out the window by the dining table. The dogs have their paws up on the window ledge on either side of me. Their excitement escalates when they see the source of the new sound, and they start bouncing all over the place in an effort to get me to let them out. Billy is standing by the edge of the lake, nearest me, chatting with a woman who is holding a large empty cage in her hand. A dozen or so frightened ducklings are clustered together on the ground by the women and are making a frantic raucous fuss. The group of resident ducks are quacking at the intruders from a position in the lake about twenty yards away. Billy walks back to the kitchen, and the woman gets into a car and drives away, leaving the newborns to fend for themselves. They all press together in a united pale-yellow ball of feathers for security, one or two popping their little heads up to spy for danger. The resident ducks paddle away as a group to the other side of the lake in complete rejection for the needy ducklings.
If there is one thing that can get these two crazy dogs all jacked up, its baby birds, baby kitties, baby anything, and right now I need to leash them up to take them out to pee.
To avoid embarrassment, I manage to steer Bonita and Bandito away from their deep desire to charge toward the ducklings, and walk them across the highway for a while.
When I return, I set the sprinkler on the dry patches of soil and seed, sit at the picnic table sipping my coffee, and watch the ducklings who are slowly detaching from their cluster. I’ve allowed Bonita and Bandito to be with me as long as they behave. They are side by side, and both of them have their noses to the fence sniffing the air in the direction of the ducklings. They are as alert as they can be without barking, but are making a throaty whine together, waiting to see who will be the bravest to start reacting so that the other can do the same. I am quietly doing my part to keep control with subtle re-enforcing commands. “Better be quiet. I mean it. Keep still. I’ll put you both back in the trailer.”
GRILL! Page 20