Bubba’s eyes roll upward in an effort to find the memory. “OH YEH, I ALWAYS SING THAT ONE AT OUR BARBEQUES. IT’S EVERYONE’S FAVORITE.”
“I can see why,” I reply in all honesty. It made me smile, especially when Billy told him to shut the hell up.
“I’M ‘BOUT TA PUT THE BOAT IN THE LAKE. WANNA COME? TERRY AND ME GOT IT ALL READY TA GO.”
“Not this time, but thanks Bubba. Maybe next time. I’ll be watching from the shore here.”
Bubba walks briskly over to the dilapidated boat. Terry walks over to him from their trailer carrying two folding aluminum lawn chairs. I suppose it will be more comfortable than the splintery boat bottom, since I saw no built-in benches in the boat on one of my snoopy journeys around the lake, casually spying the fragile rotted interior of the boat.
Terry climbs in the boat, unfolds the lawn chairs and then Bubba hands her the twelve pack. Bubba grunts as he lifts the trailer hitch and rolls the boat into the murky water. The boat, which is not attached to the trailer, begins to float away.
“Hurry Bubba, get in!” Terry shouts.
Bubba wades waist deep in the muck and grabs a hold of the edge of the boat. As he attempts to boost his heavy body up and over the side, his jeans fall down, showing his white hairy ass. His jeans are coated with a thick layer of algae. The lawn chairs fall over and bump him on the head. Terry is clinging to the opposite side of the boat trying to counter-balance it. The tipped edge is dangerously close to taking on water.
“GOD DAMN IT TO HELL TERRY! CAN YA HELP ME OUT HERE?” Bubba says, still unable to get a leg up and over into the boat.
“I can’t Bubba! If I come over to help you the boat will tip over!” Terry says exasperated.
A small crowd of giggling guests are gathering on the shore.
Bubba makes one giant roar, like a wild beast, and finally gets his muddy, green body over the edge and into the boat. The audience watching claps and I smile from ear to ear.
The confusion and reorganizing inside the boat lasts for another ten minutes. Bubba then struggles with the engine in an attempt to start the motor. The motor coughs and dies, coughs and dies. Finally it starts and smoke fills the air. Bubba yells out, “YAHOOOOOO!” Terry joins in.
They begin to slowly cruise towards the center of the lake. I hear the beer cans pop open as they settle into their lawn chairs. Bubba sits near the rear steering the boat and a layer of blue gray smoke surrounds them.
Suddenly Terry screams out, “Bubba! Water’s comin’ in! Hurry! It’s comin’ in fast!”
“DAMN IT TO HELL!” Bubba says, as he starts frantically scooping the murky water with his hands.
The rear of the boat begins to sink and the engine starts to flood, making a bubbling, putting sound, and then stalls completely as it disappears below the surface along with Bubba and Terry. They flail around before they realize that the lake is only waist deep. Both are cussing up a storm and blaming the other for causing the capsized boat. They strenuously waddle their way slowly to the shore, still clutching their opened beers, and retreat to their trailer.
I am beyond myself with hysterical laughter and must run safely inside so as not to be seen or heard. I look out my window to confirm that I hadn’t been dreaming and I see the nose of the boat sticking out from the center of the lake and fall over in laughter. I hear Ray’s truck start up and speed past my trailer heading in the direction of Bubba’s trailer. Ray must have seen this spectacle and found the energy to go kick Bubba’s ass, because he looks pissed! I can hear him yelling at Bubba from his idling truck that is in front of Bubba’s trailer.
I remain a homebody most of the day and by early evening I am still sticking it out at the fifth wheel. I’ve made a weeks supply of healthier meals for Bonita and Bandito—I added boiled brown rice, olive oil, and carrots to the hodge-podge of finely chopped leftover restaurant meats.
Periodically, I see the mother duck and her happy group of ducklings brave the open water. Just awhile ago, she led them to the sunken boat and as the ducklings swam and quacked, she stood atop the tip of the bow like a queen securing her kingdom. The rebel group of resident ducks are becoming curious, or perhaps jealous, of the joyful new family and periodically advance cautiously towards them in an effort to unite with their runaway duck and her adopted ducklings. The runaway duck, on the other hand, does not give any indication that this will happen—she turns tail, and leads the fluffy yellow group to a private spot.
I turn my attention to my private spot and decide to enhance the mood. I plug in my string of lights around the canopy and walk a distance away to witness the effect. The eccentric lit canopy gives my space a party atmosphere. If Barbie had a camp set-up, she would certainly have pretty lights hanging on her canopy, and I will too! I decide against my usual evening nursing job at Billy and Ray’s and choose instead to stay put, build a fire, and make this Sunday completely mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Lori, Tiki, and the kids should be arriving any time now. They decided to come a day early since the kids have school on Monday and all. So I am busy at the grill and keep looking out the kitchen window for their car. I am nervous because I feel like I won’t be able to show them a good time and I’m ashamed of the chaos and dysfunction of my new job and living quarters, but we always have a good time, even under the pressure of outside negative energy. When I finish work tonight we’ll build a bonfire and I’ll light up my canopy lights. I’ll have all day tomorrow to spend with them. We’ll get out and see the national park. It’ll be hard staying here at the grill when they finally arrive, I want to absorb every ounce of love and positive energy that I can while they are here.
Henry is having an early dinner and I spend a few anxious minutes jabbering to him about my sister, her precious, beautiful daughter, and grandchildren coming. He offers his miles of acreage and hidden trout farm as an option to visit. He said to be sure to bring fishing poles, since he has a small lake thriving with trout that is private and not available to the public. He promises that we are sure to catch a fish. He jots down his phone number for me. I am elated! What a thrill for Kiowa, who fantasizes about fishing, but has never had the opportunity, since Tiki is so busy teaching psychology at the University of Southern Oregon, and Kiowa’s dad is not available, being all wrapped up in some unfortunate addictions. Jacy, who is four years older than Kiowa and has a different and slightly more involved father, just loves nature and is a free spirit. She’s happy with everything that comes her way. She will probably sing to us by the fire with her new guitar. She has a voice like an angel. Lori and Tiki are single, like myself. We come from a long line of strong minded, independent, can’t put up with bullshit from the male species, type of women.
As the dinner crowd gets into full swing and I am frantically cooking, I hear Kiowa screaming out my name as his running feet enter the kitchen area. “Aunt Denise! Aunt Denise!” He jumps into my greasy arms and firmly hugs my neck with his legs wrapped around my waist. I embrace him and walk him out to the other side of the meat counter where Lori, Tiki, and Jacy are now standing with big happy smiles on their faces.
“You’re here! I’m so happy! I have to get back before I burn a bunch of orders. Hold on! Let me turn some burgers and then I’ll point out my fifth wheel to you. You can get settled in. I’ll be done in a few hours. I love you. I can’t wait to visit.” I’m happier than I imagined I’d be. I hope I make it quickly through these final hours.
While Lori and the kids look around the restaurant area and buy some candy, I finalize the cooking orders I had going on the grill. Jamie is placing three more orders on the crown of thorns, so I run outside with them to point out the fifth wheel while Jamie delivers the completed orders. “Could you get Bonita and Bandito out on their leashes for a few minutes for me? You can hang out by the picnic area and the dogs can stay in the fenced area with you. Do whatever you’d like. I can’t wait to get off work! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
At dusk, I peek out the wind
ow by the grill and see Tiki and Kiowa by the lake. He has a fishing pole in his hand and Tiki is tying a bobber to the line. My heart races as I look around to see if Bubba is near. I run out the door and race over to Tiki and Kiowa. “Oh darn it sweetie. They don’t allow bobbers in this lake. You don’t want to fish here anyway, it’s yucky! I have a surprise! Tomorrow we’re going to a real trout farm and you can catch all the fish you want.”
Kiowa’s bottom lip protrudes and he begins to pout. Tiki manages to distract him with another idea and I run back to start my evening clean-up detail. There are only a couple of guests left drinking coffee and having pie.
I finally finish and run out to join them. They are all sitting at the picnic table with several munchies laid about. Bonita and Bandito are happily begging. Bubba is walking away from them and is headed towards his trailer. Lori, Tiki, Kiowa and Jacy are all staring in his direction with concerned looks on their faces. As soon as I get to the table we all embrace and greet each other properly.
“Who’s that guy?” Kiowa asks.
“Yeah, who’s that guy?” Jacy echoes.
“You mean that guy?” I ask pointing in Bubba’s direction.
“Yeah, that guy,” Kiowa says.
Lori and Tiki are waiting for my answer as much as Kiowa and Jacy are. Lori speaks before I do. “He’s that good ole boy you spoke of, isn’t he?”
“Yes, that’s Bubba.” I am looking at Bubba tromping towards his trailer.
“I thought you said that you were the cook,” Jacy questions.
“That I am darling. There’s no doubt about it.”
Lori begins to explain how they were all just sitting there having fun, when Bubba walked up and asked them who they were. They replied who they were in their joyful way and that they were here to visit me, the cook. At which point Bubba had laughed loudly and said, “SHE AIN’T THE COOK. I AM!” He then spit his chew and stomped away.
“Well Kiowa, let me tell you this. Bubba’s a big nobody and I want you to help me build a fire in the fire pit, like right now. Let the party begin!” I let out with a huge “Yahoo!” along with everyone else.
Lori and Tiki set up a small tent for Tiki and the kids. Lori will sleep at the dining table that makes into a bed. After they prepare everything for the evening, we sit by the fire and talk and laugh and sing songs, until the kids finally crawl into the tent exhausted from the long day. I revel in the comfort of my sister and niece. We chat softly about everything under the sun, often belting out uncontrollable, stress relieving laughter as I relate my Hacienda farce until 2:00AM, when we reluctantly give up and go to bed.
They loved my joyful canopy! I fall asleep feeling halfway normal again.
In the morning the kids join Bonita, Bandito, and myself in a walk around the perimeter of the lake. They see the ducklings following their new mother and I share with them her valiant and heroic story. Kiowa especially enjoyed the story of why there was a boat sticking out of the middle of the lake. We feed the resident ducks and prepare to go to Henry’s to fish for trout. While we were walking, Lori and Tiki have packed up the tent and gathered all their supplies so that they could take off after we spend the day playing.
Jacy and Kiowa each catch three fish, which Lori puts on ice to cook for Kiowa tomorrow night in Ashland. Henry had met us there and showed Kiowa the proper way to clean fish. Kiowa was in heaven! Tiki and Lori tease me about how obvious it is that Henry is madly in love with me. I hope he did this out of the kindness of his heart and doesn’t expect a favor in return. The best I can do for him is to buy his next dinner.
We then explore the national park for the rest of the day, which ends much too abruptly. I sadly say goodbye and drive back to Hacienda alone. Bonita and Bandito were surprisingly asleep on their blanket pile beside me.
As soon as I get to the fifth wheel, I set the sprinkler up on the thriving lawn and go to make myself an evening gin and limeade. I am content to sit within the canopy and rewind every precious moment of our time together. I’ve not seen hide nor hair of Bubba and Terry, which is a bonus for my day.
It’s the middle of the night and I’m sound asleep when I hear the grinding gears of a diesel truck pulling into the parking lot of Hacienda. After several concerning minutes of listening to the engine rumbling, I crawl down out of bed and look out the window facing towards Billy and Ray’s house and the parking lot area. It is a diesel pulling a long trailer that seems to have a dump truck on it. Billy and Ray are definitely sound asleep and it looks like the driver is trying to figure out who or where he should go to finalize this midnight delivery. I walk out in my sweats to see if I can be of any assistance. As I do this, he is unhooking the chains that hold the dump truck to the trailer. I watch while he rolls it slowly down the ramp. There is a large puddle of dark liquid covered over the trailer floor where the dump truck had sat for however long it had taken to get from Idaho to here. It continues to drip as he slowly brings it to the asphalt. Even in the dark I can tell that this dump truck has been deceivingly dumped on Billy and Ray. It’s a mess!
“Hey lady, if ya don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if ya tell the folks here that I brought their delivery. Here’s the paperwork.”
He leaves me standing there like a ghost in the night and drives off. I walk slowly around the dump truck and bend down to see the continuing bleeding of dark fluid hitting the asphalt. I don’t know a lot about the mechanics of dump trucks, but I think it’s coming from the hydraulic lifts, which tells me it probably can’t lift a feather right now.
Suddenly, I come out of my middle of the night delivery daze, and realize I am standing in the dark parking lot of an RV park where pit bulls and mountain lions roam. I run clutching the paperwork back to the fifth wheel and feel like the wonderful day I had is already disappearing. Once again, my current reality begins to consume me.
Chapter Twenty
By the end of July the ducklings, who’s feathers are now a soft, light, fluffy brown, have grown considerably and have matured with the confidence they so deserved. They are now brave enough to venture off together and explore on their own, but re-join their foster mother at times of rest within the cattail grass.
Tiki had brought along a grocery bag of books for me when she came to visit. She knows how much I love to read. One small book was called ‘The Names Of Gods And Goddesses’, which is so like Tiki to have found an obscure book like that and pass it on to me. Inside, I found the Goddess of orphans, Orbona, which is the name I have given to the foster mother duck who has now taken to following me around. Bonita and Bandito have resigned their aggression and accepted her presence as a tolerable pest behind us on our daily walks around the park.
My lawn, which is really Bubba’s lawn, has grown tall enough to have finally been mowed once. The maple tree I planted has several new tender branches. Not much else around here has brought forth any hint of life in its natural progression besides the ducklings, the lawn, and the maple tree.
The dump truck is now parked in the back forest area. Several mechanics have come and gone in unsuccessful attempts to repair the hydraulic lift. Its large steel belly is now being used as storage for the accumulating piles of garbage and the womb for future generations of billions of flies.
Bubba has just come into the kitchen to get his daily twelve pack. I am currently cooking and Jamie is on duty as waitress. He is becoming more sour every day. He has a constant scowl on his face. This might be due to the fact that I completely ignore him and Karen and just do my job. Karen and Bubba have become the enemy in a very cold war. In fact, they secretly conspire to defeat my daily tasks with hidden landmines. These traps they set are difficult to see, but become an urgent issue once I uncover them. Such as the one I came across this morning. Bubba, upon leaving his breakfast shift, turned all six burners on the flat grill to the highest setting, which in turn, burnt my first three orders to a crisp, and since it takes at least a half hour to cool down the thick plate of solid steel to proper cooking temperature, I
am unable to cook in the manner required of me. Also, as I stand at this counter slicing pickles, I notice the calendar tacked to the wall. Since this is the last day of July, I decide to go ahead and lift July to expose August. The last day of August is circled in a red Sharpie pen. Next to it several things are written—PARTY, CELEBRATE, and AT LAST! It takes me a few minutes to understand, but it does finally sink in. Bubba, because I recognize his handwriting, knows I am leaving in September, has made his joy for that day loud and clear. It’s little things like that that make the atmosphere seem warlike.
Jamie, who has also caught on to this subtle grenade, walks over to where we keep the Sharpie marking pens, gets Bubba’s coffee cup and writes ‘Skowler’ in permanent black letters across the front of it.
“I’m not sure if that’s spelled right Jamie,” I say casually, but inside I’m freaking. Oh my God! Bubba will think that I did that! He’s going to blow his top for sure. Why did she do that?
“I don’t care,” Jamie says. “Bubba needs to learn how to smile once in a while,” she adds as she puts the coffee cup grenade back on the shelf.
Jamie, who is slowly losing her beatific world vision, has also lost her youthful, bouncy step. She knows her time in this crazy pokey is nearly over. I too, count my money and my days.
I warily rewind my thoughts. I hear myself thinking and gruesomely understand what I hear. It is not Jamie who has lost her beatific vision and youthful, bouncy step, it is me. She just wanted to make money for college, I expected a glorious traveling vacation and salvation from a corrupt planet. It is me who is withered and drained. I am pained from my own startling realization and I am suddenly frozen in place.
“Jamie,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong Denise?” Jamie says with her glowing, sparkling face cocked to see me better.
GRILL! Page 22