The next day Ernest spent the day with his parents and the new addition to the family, celebrated his parents’ visit and wished them a wonderful trip home. Following up on their friends’ recommendations that they see the beauty and natural wonders of the Southwest, they decided to take the train part way across the country. Ernest, Allison, Gloria and Emily took them to the train station.
Ernest had arranged for four of his workers to go for Hans and force him to pick up Uncle Philip at the hospital and take him home. Ernest selected four of the biggest, strongest and toughest of his construction workers. When Hans opened the door he saw two Mexicans and two blacks towering over him. Hans, the self-declared superior example of the master race went peacefully. Uncle Philip recovered, as usual. He was a man with at least nine lives. He promised his nephew, Ernest, Hans and the doctor that he would not binge again.
“You are not a young man. These bouts with binge drinking will someday, sooner than later, shut down your organs, Mr. Keller.” The doctor signed the release papers and left the room.
On the way home they drove by several hobo and Okie camps near the river on empty property used as dumps by the locals. Uncle Philip fixed his gaze on the white people, victims of job loss. Philip was transfixed by the Okies—their white skin, the children with blue eyes and blond hair floating just above the ground—wandering from park to hobo camp across the Southwest, looking for a job, a handout, a little help for their kids. He wanted to help them immediately, but he was afraid to ask the black driver to stop. These people should not have to live in camps. They should have homes, education and good jobs. The immigrants, the Mexicans, he mused, have taken these opportunities away from these good white folks. “Whatever it takes,” he whispered. “Whatever it takes!” he said out loud. He decided to help these real Americans coming from the Dust Bowl to search for work in California.
The blacks and the Mexicans left Hans and Uncle Philip at their front door.
WEEKS LATER UNCLE Philip drove to Ernest’s office to present his Aryan Workers Plan. Two members of the Southern California Aryan Club walked into the office with him. His companions were serious businessmen, owners of large thriving enterprises, who believed in Adolf Hitler’s reforms and who supported the Nazi party openly. They were there to help convince Ernest about this proposal.
“Deportation is the only way to solve the Mexican problem. Fire all your Mexican labor, Mr. Keller, and have the police round them up and deport them deep into Mexico,” suggested one of Uncle Philip’s backers.
“The only way to solve the greaser problem! No arguing that,” concurred his protégée.
“Ernest, we have a group of white men—Americans, Dust Bowl migrants—who need jobs. You must employ these men. They are true Americans. The club will arrange the transportation to get rid of the Mexicans. You must do this, Ernest. You have to come to your senses. These Mexican mixed-bloods are ruining our country, society, the family. You damn well know what I mean!”
“Uncle Philip, gentlemen, thank you for your concern. I certainly respect your advice, but I will hire and fire whomever I please in this company.”
“But, sir, you have Mexicans working here. The way we see it, one is too many!”
“Please, Ernest, think about it. We can help you. You’ll be doing what is correct, the right thing. You’ll be a hero in the eyes of the American people. Get rid of the Mexicans and give the Okies the jobs they deserve.”
“Uncle Philip, gentlemen, thank you for the suggestions. I’ll consider what you’ve said. Now, please, the door is right behind you.”
Uncle Philip waited in Ernest’s office while his friends made their way to the car. He closed the door and faced his nephew directly.
“Ernest, I talked to the girls. I hope it’s not true. Louise is having another baby? Damn! I told you that half-breed would ruin her and the family. The tragedy is that they’ll have another boy. Their mongrel children, the boys they breed, are carrying a mixed bloodline! That is damaging our family even more. You have to stop that damn Albert. Annul that ugly marriage. Send him away! Expel him from the family before it’s too late. You must do something to relieve Louise’s suffering! The poor child, not even her father helps her. I warn you, Ernest, this is not going to end in a happy way!”
“She’s happy! Whatever you do, Uncle Philip, don’t touch that boy! Leave them alone. They have a home here, a growing beautiful family. Albert and Louise are happy. Allison and I are happy for them. Please, Uncle Philip, do not do anything you’ll regret.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Ernest!”
FOR UNCLE PHILIP, the worst part of this terrible situation was not his nephew’s resistance to his wise words, or even that Louise had married Albert to cover up their immoral and bad behavior, but that the young couple was about to have a second child. Their mockery of a marriage did not lessen the unpleasant feeling he lived with daily. Instead, the emotion became more intense, beyond anger, even beyond hatred. He had to stop them from mocking all his counseling of Ernest and Allison and their children. It was his duty to prevent any further damage to the family and certainly, not less importantly, the polluting of the family bloodline. He had noticed the last time he saw his niece, how tired she seemed, and he noticed again how her belly had begun to stretch.
One month later, in the presence of the Keller and Rivers families, Louise and Albert proudly announced that in a few months another child would bless the family. It was a joyous occasion for all. Louise’s sisters ran to her side to embrace and kiss her. Dame Marie hugged her parents, who sat together in a large red leather sofa located on one side of the long stone fireplace in the Kellers’ living room. Sol listened from the breezeway. A smile crossed his lips, and a tear formed in the corner of his left eye. He quickly put a finger on this spontaneous product of happiness.
Across the living room, Uncle Philip’s eyes welled from frustration and the feeling of helplessness, and also the thought that the child might be another man-child. This bothered him to the point of causing hives with large red bumps on his chest and stomach. His emotions were beyond words. For years he had urged Ernest and Allison to have more children in hopes of producing a boy, a man to carry on the family name, but this did not happen. For Allison and Ernest it was too late to bear more children. He poured himself a goblet of red wine and observed Louise, so white and beautiful next to Albert, a cross-bred dirty-skinned mongrel. What made her fall in love with such an ugly brown boy? She was not to blame. Her parents had failed to teach her racial discipline. They failed miserably to teach Louise that miscegenation was a horrible act. There were laws passed in many states to prevent crossbreeding. If I have lost Louise, then I must save Emily and Gloria, he thought, filling his glass with wine again.
He stared at Albert’s arm around Louise’s waist. He was so near, only a few arm lengths away, but Uncle Philip dared not strike a blow. Now every minute, hour, day intensified his desire to do something to stop Albert. With the possible birth of another male child born to his niece, Uncle Philip’s need heightened to continue the Keller line with a white male child. Meanwhile, Albert continued working and going to school, while Louise happily prepared their large house in Boyle Heights for the birth of the couple’s second child.
Louise’s pregnancy progressed smoothly. The members of both families constantly watched over her, and as she got bigger and bigger they all had the same thought: twins. Albert prayed that his beautiful wife would not have twins. He wanted to have children one at a time. The year moved on, everyone working, studying and caring for the family, living their lives in relative happiness. Oakley, Agatha and Dame Marie at this time and place were content. They began to express their love for one another by saying the words “I love you” repeatedly. The I love you phase began after an argument over the color of a bedspread that Agatha had bought for Dame Marie’s bed.
“Since when do you care about color? You’re fortunate I tidy up your room, Dame Marie!” Agatha walked out of the room, t
hrowing the bedspread on the floor.
As Dame Marie heard her mother rush out of the house, she yelled out, “I love you,” and ran to her mother. From that moment on, the Rivers family got into this I love you phase of their lives. Everybody in the house said, “I love you” as a greeting or as a good-bye. It became like a blessing for each other.
The Keller family learned from the Rivers’ example. They took to the expression of “I love you” and many times shortened it to “… love you.” The Kellers liked to hug and embrace. The hugs were usually short, but at times they became longer and turned into an embrace. The Rivers and the Kellers became like one family, the adults seeing each other as brothers and sisters, the children considering one another as brothers and sisters. Through all these years, Agatha and Allison were truly bonded, sincerely caring deeply for each other. And now, with the marriage of Albert and Louise, they had become grandmothers together. For the women, the children added fuel to the fire of cherishing each other.
Watching these open expressions of love only increased Uncle Philip’s hatred of Albert. The desire for revenge that beset Uncle Philip did not subside with the mockery of a marriage that he had forbidden. He became so focused on striking out that everything he saw, heard, smelled, touched and particularly all he tasted fed his disgust. Now the possibility of Louise bearing twins for her mongrel husband made every morsel he ate taste bitter, and slowly he lost his appetite. As Louise grew with child she observed in her uncle a gradual but noticeable weight loss. Uncle Philip’s health seemed to get worse. He suffered asthma attacks. He experienced sudden severe pains in his bones. At times his sight blurred. He asked people to speak louder, and all food tasted foul to him!
Always the taste in his mouth!
He tried to eat. He would go to Allison, because even after all the things he had said about her son-in-law, Albert, she would ask their housekeeper to make breakfast or a sandwich for him. Uncle Philip would take the fork and place egg in his mouth. It would lay there on his tongue. Slowly the sensation of bitterness would spread. He’d try again with bread and sweet strawberry preserves that in a short while turned to a sourness that burned down in his throat. He’d push away the food and drink water, the only thing he could swallow without gagging. All the food given to me spoils even before I put it in my mouth, he thought. He’d look at Albert and see the spoiling root of his horrible condition. To survive, to live, to save himself, Uncle Philip concluded that he had to take action, exercise a vengeance upon the disease causing his illness. Uncle Philip touched bottom when he threw a bottle of vodka against the wall in his living room. Not even the alcohol he consumed relieved his suffering. Finally he decided to attack Albert again. He was convinced there was only one way to spare Louise’s suffering and the nasty mixed-breeding shame that her family needed to avoid.
UP AT THE source of the river during the past few days there had been thunder showers that brought about flash floods in the canyons emptying into the river. A few heavy shower squalls roared down to the basin. In the morning, one storm dropped about an inch and a half of rain over the east side of Los Angeles, shutting down outside construction projects and creating a muddy mess in places where the earth was soft. In the Boyle Heights Yard, Oakley Rivers sent the office employees home early and left Albert to finish reports and to lock up the shop.
It was days before the date the doctor had set for the birth of the baby. Louise had all the help she needed, perhaps more than she needed. Sol was always helping her with whatever she wanted from the store or wanted done around the house. His greatest pleasure was when Louise asked him to watch Baby Keller. Sol loved and protected little Keller. Without hesitation Sol was ready to give his life for the boy. In the weeks prior to the birth, Louise was never alone. In the house there was always a family member watching over Louise and her little boy. During the last week, Agatha and Allison rarely left that house. Agatha and Allison took turns sleeping over, for if anything happened one of them had to be there to help and send for the other abuela. On the night that Albert stayed late at the Boyle Heights Yard, Agatha, Allison and Sol waited for the breaking of water, for the first contractions, waited for the baby to make its first move to enter the world. Louise was so big that it was difficult for her to walk. For three days leading up to the birth, she stayed in bed or sat on the large leather sofa chair in front of the window overlooking the view beyond the river to Los Angeles.
Outside, just below the window, Sol had gathered a rabbit, a dog, a hawk and several robins. He sat perfectly still, waiting with them, praying, talking to their spirits to encourage the infant to emerge whole and healthy.
Louise held her large protruding belly, rubbed and patted it gently. “Come on now, baby! Push your way out of there fast!” As the hours went by, more animals gathered around Sol to help Louise and her newborn.
Albert packed his books, turned off the light and pushed the door open. He made his way to his truck, avoiding the softest mud. He threw his bag on the truck seat and walked over to the five faucets used by the company’s men to wash and tidy up before heading home. Three faucets leaked badly, dripping water onto the small concrete platforms in front of each water basin. He reached over to the first faucet and turned it shut. His hand moved over to the second and turned, when a heavy object struck his back and knocked him down to the cement slab. His body rolled to one side, only to be punched and kicked from many directions. Sharp sudden pain entered his ribs for an instant, shutting down his breathing. Albert’s hand scraped mud from his eye that had closed after the blow to his back. A few more sharp kicks to his chest and shoulder brought him around on his back where he could not scream, not say a word. Finally he heard himself breathing again, a chance to ask what was happening. Voices yelled at him. Albert tried to respond, help me, he thought, maybe three, four voices screamed, hands grabbed at his body, ripping his shirt off … back to Mexico … pulling at his shoes, his pants down … half-breed … a knife cut through his pants … the belt … warm liquid, blood covered his arms … Albert felt for his nose … he sensed laughter … flat nose against his mouth … you won’t fuck … the voices dragged his body half way off the cement slab … white girl again … voices grabbed his legs … a voice cut off Albert’s underwear … this knife on my hogs … laughter … loud laughter … Albert twisted his shoulders violently … get up, get up … several hands fondled his genitals … it all off … only his balls … just like your pigs … the voices broke out in great laughter … a celebration … his balls … pain … terrible pain … he lost his breath … his hands clutched his penis … blood came from below … he screamed … the voices kicked him again and again … you ain’t gonna sin anymore boy … no more mongrel moron children … he won’t run … just to make sure … several boards crushed a knee … opened his eyes … only mud … crawled through the mud … pushed damp mud between his legs … cool relief … under the leaky pipes … dripping water valves … stuffed mud into his crotch … screamed … screamed again … mud-smeared eyes widened … felt light … floating away … short breath … breathing … pain faded … into the mud. …
HER WATER FINALLY broke. Louise bled a little and a strong contraction came. “Albert,” she called out. “Albert!” she screamed again and slid off the leather sofa chair. She crawled toward the kitchen where the grandmothers prepared for the birthing.
“Albert!” Louise’s cry seemed unnatural. “Albert,” she called again.
“He’s on his way, darling.”
“Sol went for him.”
“The baby is coming!” Agatha called to the ladies folding the swabs and towels for the infant.
“My God, the baby is crowning.”
“We won’t make it to the hospital.”
“Calm down, Louise.”
“Push, love, push.”
SOL DROVE TO the Boyle Heights Yard looking for Albert. Distracted, he decided to park down at the river’s edge close to the River Mother’s house to quickly check on the treasures th
at had come with the high river water. As he drove by the yard he noticed Albert’s truck parked next to Oakley’s. He continued down to the River Mother’s house. Her helpers moved the newly rescued furniture, rugs, boards, a stove, lamps, pieces of fence and several doors to a place in or on the house. Sol made sure the Ancient One was fine. He stayed only for a short while and drove up the rise. He noticed about five workers washing at the outside faucets. A few were packing tools.
“Mucha agua, too muddy,” a worker yelled at him and waved good-bye.
Sol leaned out the truck window, smiled and gave them several big waves with his left arm and wide-open hand. Those workers gave him a good feeling. They had knocked off early and were heading home to their families. He remembered his original mission, pushed his foot on the gas pedal and started back to Louise’s home to see how he could help. As he hurried, he recalled that Albert’s truck was at the yard. Sol made a U-turn and rushed over to the truck. He saw that the driver’s door was wide open and that Albert’s bag rested on the seat. That’s odd, he thought, and drove over towards where the workers cleaned up. He got out of the truck, looked about and saw no one.
“Albert! Albert!”
No response came from anyone, from anywhere. Sol leaned into the truck and honked and honked again for a long time.
“¿Dónde estás, muchacho?” He walked slowly toward the river, searching.
“Albert!” Sol walked behind the workers’ faucets and sinks.
“¡Ay, ay!” He found his nephew naked and covered in mud.
“¡Ay, ay, qué te hicieron!”
By now Sol’s screams and the horn brought up several of the River Mother’s helpers to find out what Sol needed. As they approached, they saw Sol struggling to lift Albert out of the mud.
River of Angels Page 29