Point Dume

by Katie Arnoldi

  He dreamed of running. He thought about it when he was checking the irrigation lines and watching out for snakes. He thought about it when he was using the latrine and trying to conserve toilet paper because he didn’t have a clue when Hernando would be back. He plotted escape routes while scattering the fertilizer around the base of the plants. He dreamed of being back home when the smell of the pesticides stung his nose. Sometimes he talked to the animals and birds that he’d made.

  “Rigoberta, I swear to you, soon. I will walk away, never look back.”

  And Rigoberta would answer, “They’ll kill your family. Rape your mother and sisters, spill their blood. You know they will. You’ve seen them do it. You, my friend, are not going anywhere. Anyway, you need the money if you’re going to marry Violeta.”

  Sometimes Felix wished he hadn’t created Rigoberta but most of the time she was good company and the only friend he had.

  First it was a missing bag of fertilizer. Felix told Rigoberta that he must have miscounted or maybe an animal pulled it off somewhere. Nothing to worry about, he had plenty more and if he ran out he’d figure out something. Then it was a five-pound bag of pinto beans, some ramen noodles, and a sack of corn tortillas. It was possible that an animal had taken it but he’d had the food stashed up on one of his high-branch shelves. What animal could have carried off all that food without him hearing something or it leaving some trace? And this morning, when he walked over the ridge into the other grow-site, his pesticide sprayer was gone. He looked everywhere, up and down the crop rows, in between the plants that were now almost as tall as he was, and down in the surrounding undergrowth. The sprayer was gone and he had to face the truth. Someone was coming into his camp and taking things. Someone knew he was there, knew what he had.

  Felix turned and ran back to the main camp. Were they watching now? Out there in the underbrush, with binoculars? How many? When would they come? He tore through his supplies, searching for the box of shotgun shells then ran to the tent and grabbed the gun. Thank God they hadn’t taken his gun. He put two shells in the barrel, locked it, and stuffed his pockets full of extras.

  First he dug chest-deep trenches in front of all the obvious entries to both camps. He sharpened sticks and planted them in the ground, pointy side up. Then he made some loose mats from the vines, placed them over the trenches and covered them with dirt. The trap wouldn’t kill you but it would cause enough damage to slow you down.

  Next he built whip-traps. He pulled pliable branches back and secured them with twine then rigged a trip line. The branch would smack you in the face, maybe break your nose, maybe not, but for sure it would cause you to make some noise. He also made noise booby-traps out of empty cans and balanced some large rocks up in the canopy that would fall if someone crawled beneath.

  He talked to Rigoberta constantly. Should he start sleeping in the day and patrolling at night? Rigoberta thought he should sleep in shifts and get up every couple hours to scout the parameter. He made a stick and thorn corral then brought all the supplies from the second camp and stored everything together just outside his tent. And he prayed. Rigoberta reassured him the best she could. Only another couple of months. The one thing he couldn’t do was leave; that was clear. But if he just hung in there, got the plants to harvest, everything would be fine. About eight more weeks and he could go home and once he got there, he would never leave again.

  LA FIESTA

  JANICE CAREFULLY PICKED HER WAY DOWN THE DIRT TRAIL that led to the ocean. It seemed like a long walk and it was very, very dark. She’d never been to this particular beach and probably would have turned back already but she could hear the surf crashing and people shouting so she knew she was getting close. Why-oh-why had she worn heels? What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. She just wanted to look good and the jeans that made her ass look the smallest were a little too long for flats so she’d worn these stupid platforms sandals and now she was having trouble navigating the uneven terrain. And why the hell didn’t she bring a flashlight? Did she think they had landscape lighting down here in the gulley? To her it was a wilderness. Flashes of panic invaded her mind as she stumbled on—mountain lions or perhaps a stray rapist might be hiding in the brushes. This was a bad idea. She should never have come.

  She could hear someone playing drums down on the beach. It actually sounded like a lot of people playing. The noise was tribal, kind of primitive, and it scared her a little. She wouldn’t know a single person except Pablo. She was going to stumble out onto the beach, way over-dressed and ridiculous in her designer clothes, and everybody was going to laugh at her. Maybe she should just turn around and go home. Pablo wouldn’t even notice that she wasn’t there. All that electricity that she’d been feeling with him? It was her imagination, self-generated. What would a guy like that want with her? Anyway, it sounded like there were a lot of people down there. Yeah, she’d go home. That’s where she belonged. Except going home meant another evening with Frank. She tripped over a rock, dropped the wine and jammed her big toe. Damn it. Once she got to the beach, she’d take off the shoes and hide them in her purse but she had to get there first. She picked up the bottle of wine, which luckily had not broken, brushed herself off and continued down the path. Pablo probably wouldn’t have a corkscrew. All that hooting and hollering, this definitely didn’t sound like a wine drinking crowd and anyway, what good was one bottle? She should have brought booze, scotch or something. Tequila, that’s what a group of surfers would like. Janice thought about stashing the wine in the brush but at that moment she heard some people coming up behind her. She pulled herself together and looked over her shoulder in what she hoped would appear to be a casual glance. There was a group of women coming towards her with flashlights. It was too dark to be sure but they looked familiar. A few more steps and Janice felt her body relax. It was some of the girls from Gaia’s class. She started laughing. Now it wasn’t a lie, she really was going to a party with her yoga friends.

  “Janice, baby girl, what heck are you doing here?” Fran was wearing her usual skin-tight Lycra pants and matching top. She had chronic camel toe and didn’t seem to mind. “Do you know Pablo?”

  Janice nodded but didn’t explain. This group was treacherous.

  “How?” Leslie was the gossip of the group. “I mean where did you meet him?”

  “Can’t remember.” Janice’s momentary relief at running into these women was short-lived. She was back to the idea of going home. In fact she wished she could be there right now. “How about you guys, you’re all friends with him?”

  “Sometimes he gives us surf lessons.” Lily was the nice one in the group. “He’s our favorite instructor. Right?”

  Everyone nodded. There were six women, all dressed pretty much the same as Janice, in expensive jeans with designer handbags. Each of them was married.

  “Have you seen the birthday boy in a bathing suit?” Leslie rubbed her hands together. “That ass?”

  Someone at the party let out a loud yelp and the group hurried on towards the beach. Janice fell in line. As they came down the path, there was a little beach house visible on the opposite side of the ravine. Fran shined her light up towards the cottage. “I wonder if Ellis Gardner is going to be at the party.”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t give a damn how long she’s lived here,” Leslie said. “It doesn’t give her the right to be a complete and total bitch. She’s always so rude.”

  “She’s okay,” Lily said.

  The group continued walking and Janice lost track of who said what.

  “These ‘long-time residents’—pain in the ass.”

  “She thinks she’s some kind of royalty.”

  “Yeah but she was here before all the development. I can sort of see how that might make you bitter. And losing your childhood home.”

  “Give me a break. She’s got a better view than all of us.”

  “She has beautiful skin.”

  “I heard that she’s got a ton
of money in the bank.”

  “Yeah, and something about dealing pot. Cookies and brownies. She’s supposedly loaded.”

  “Don’t think so. Have you seen that truck?”

  “I want to get a truck.”

  “Trade in your Mercedes?”

  “Does Mercedes make a truck?”

  “You could get one of those bio-diesel trucks like Willie Nelson.”

  “Perfect skin. She doesn’t have any sun-damage.”

  “Have you even been close enough to see her skin?”

  “I talked to her.”

  “When?”

  “Once. In the market. She was trying to figure out if it was Italian parsley or Cilantro. I helped. Her skin is amazing.”

  “It’s the body that’s amazing.”

  “Lifetime of surfing.”

  “All those guys just drool over her.”

  “Surfing makes your butt tiny and tight?”

  “She’s a total bitch.”

  “No she’s not.”

  “Yeah she is.”

  “Yep.”

  They arrived on the sand. The bonfire blazed a few yards down the beach. Someone was about to try an Evil Knievel jump over the waist-high flames. They stood and watched. Janice held her breath; it was pure insanity. That person was certainly going to be badly hurt. What if he fell in the fire? How would he get to the hospital? She couldn’t watch. She closed her eyes and once again wished she hadn’t come. Then there was a loud roar and applause. The guy had made it. Someone was throwing more wood on the fire; he was going to go again. The group of women pulled together like a school of fish in treacherous waters and started to advance towards the party. Janice was torn. She didn’t really want to be associated with these women. In yoga class they were fine, even fun to talk to, but out here, at this party, they were embarrassing somehow. None of them fit in, including her. But what was she going to do? She couldn’t go home now. She fell in line and together they moved down the beach as a unit.

  HERE COME THE BRIDES

  ELLIS SAT BY THE FIRE AND PRETENDED TO LISTEN TO Oliver Johnson’s rant about the waves on Nias. It was his favorite subject and Ellis had heard countless versions of this same story. He’d just come back from another trip and was once again claiming that Sorake Bay used to be the best right-hander in the world, bar none. “And then the tsunami came, and dude I swear, the wave changed. Something happened to the ocean floor. I don’t know. I mean it was still good, way good, but then the earthquake. Just like that, bam bam—the earthquake on top of the tsunami. One-two punch you know? And you gotta ask yourself, why? Just why? That wave will never be the same and it breaks my heart. Plus, you know, a lot of people died and shit.” Oliver kept going back to Nias, year after year, just to confirm that it still wasn’t as good as it used to be.

  Jojo Wald was down the beach playing with gasoline. He had a little audience watching him as he built a small pile of sticks on top of a mound of sand, doused it with gas then poured out a long trail and struck a match. When the fire got to the sticks, they exploded like a little bomb. For some reason, a whole group found this hysterically funny, which just encouraged Jojo to build bigger and bigger piles of sticks and sand so he could blow them up. Even though it was early, Jojo was clearly drunk and if he continued with his little pyro games there was a good chance he, or someone else, would get hurt. But Ellis didn’t have the energy to do anything about it so she angled her body away and stared down the beach in the other direction.

  Here’s what would happen at this party tonight because it’s what happened at every beach party:

  There would be some sort of contest that involved shots of tequila. The girls would receive special encouragement to participate—the sooner they were drunk the better.

  The guys would have a contest to see who could walk the farthest on their hands. Someone might feel particularly confident and attempt a circle around the fire, which may or may not end in injury. The handstand contest would lead to a wrestling match with most of the guys jumping in. There may or may not be fighting. Ellis always found the wrestling thing kind of gay but she usually kept her mouth shut.

  There would be a spanking tunnel for Pablo’s birthday. Again the homo thing with guys getting into this with a little too much enthusiasm.

  Girls would take their tops off and make out with each other while the guys roared.

  There would be skinny-dipping—it was kind of mandatory.

  There might or might not be a “Who’s got the biggest dick contest”, probably not tonight. It was a little chilly out and the boys generally liked to present themselves in the best possible circumstances.

  A drunken couple might decide it was funny to put on a sex show right there in front of everybody.

  Sean Gerhardt had just cleared a landing zone and was getting ready to do his fire jumping routine. That guy loved pain. He’d been hurt more than anyone Ellis knew. Seriously damaged. He loved to fight and had ruptured one of his balls when he took on a group of five guys at a party one night a few years ago. Now he had a prosthetic testicle. Later tonight he would take out his balls, lay them out on a rock or something, and whack the fake ball with a spoon. He always did that, at every party. New comers would moan and cringe. Everybody else would laugh. It was Sean’s favorite trick.

  This was the same party that Ellis had been attending for the last twenty years. Same people, same games, same issues. She hugged her knees close to her chest and wondered how early she could slip away without Pablo noticing. All she wanted to do was climb in bed and go to sleep. She put her head down on her knees and closed her eyes.

  “Ellis hi!!!”

  Ellis looked up and saw that she’d been invaded by a drove of squawking females. They say that at a certain age every woman must make a choice: cow or goat. The bovine decision will preserve the youthful qualities in the face but the figure will quickly become lumpy and thick. The goat will maintain her lean girlish curves but her face and neck will pay a cruel price and the skin will hang from her bones prematurely while the cow stays plump and pink. Even though these women weren’t much older than she, they’d clearly made their choices. Ellis could already see the toll of years of strict dieting. Mutton. That’s what Ellis thought when she looked into their drawn faces, nanny goats and mutton.

  “I told you guys she’d be here.”

  Ellis didn’t stand up. She should have. The women quickly surrounded her, three on one side, four on the other, and dropped to the ground like a group of synchronized swimmers. Most of their pants were too tight to allow for anything other than a sidesaddle position except for the one with camel-toe who sat Indian-style.

  “Do you know Janice?”

  “I don’t think she does.”

  “Ellis, this is Janice Bane. Janice, Ellis Gardner.”

  Ellis looked and saw that Janice held one of Frank’s wine bottles with that stupid label. She seemed uncomfortable but there was no way she would know who Ellis was. None of these women knew what was going on. So why was Janice so nervous? She was pretty, better than the other hags. She didn’t wear much make-up and her hair looked pretty close to its natural color. Actually, Ellis was surprised that she was with this group; she seemed to be of a different species. Still, the last thing Ellis needed was a polite chat with Frank’s wife.

  “Nice to meet you.” Janice was pulling off her silly high-heeled sandals and shoving them into her purse.

  Ellis took a deep breath and started to compose her exit speech when Pablo rushed over.

  “Ladies, ladies.” He bent and kissed each on of them on the lips. “Now the party can get started. What took you so long?”

  That was it. Ellis had to get out of here. She knew Pablo sold weed to all these women, probably slept with them too. She knew he liked fucking with their heads and their emaciated bodies. But she didn’t have to watch it. As far as she was concerned, these women—and their husbands—had destroyed her town. They had invaded with the intention of taming all things wild. T
hey petitioned the governor for sidewalks on the streets so their kids would be safe on the way to and from school. They’d installed stop signs and were hoping for speed bumps on some key streets to keep traffic issues under control. They had a wish list that included streetlights and landscaping at all intersections and along the center divide of the Pacific Coast Highway. They set up home-owners’ associations and had bi-weekly meetings. They wanted rules and committees. Why did these people move out here? Why had-n’t they just stayed in their safe communities in town where their pets wouldn’t be eaten by coyotes? Ellis and her friends had grown up here and somehow survived without sidewalks, stop signs and rules but this new generation simply couldn’t manage without them. Things needed to be in control.

  So why were these women at this party? How would hubby feel about his polished, flashy wife slumming it with the likes of Pablo and his friends? Would the ladies be getting loaded tonight and take off their tops along with all the other girls? Would they make out with each other? Hookup for an extra-marital thrill? Probably. Then they’d go home and dream about their walk on the wild side every time they crawled in bed with their husbands. They were pathetic but Ellis didn’t care. It wasn’t her problem. She stood up and started towards her house. Pablo called out to her and she assured him that she’d be back in a minute. But she wouldn’t.

  When Ellis unlocked the door, the phone was ringing. She rushed over and picked it up before the machine clicked on. It was Frank.

  FRANK WAITS UP

  ELLIS HADN’T SAID MUCH WHEN HE EXPLAINED ABOUT wanting to step back. In fact she hadn’t said a word. He talked about his deep love for her but also his guilt and duty towards his family. He said that he thought the kids were suffering because he just hadn’t been really present the last few months and that he needed some time and space to reassess his priorities. He promised her it wasn’t the end, just a time of transition—which sounded like bullshit, even to him. But Ellis hadn’t made a sound while he was explaining himself and when he’d finished, all she said was, “Fine.”