November 4, 2006
Chapter 5
(Filed under: The Novel)The sun was setting now, creating a majestic purple and deep red in the clouds to the west. Anwyn squinted and took it in for a moment, not remembering the last time she saw a sunset like that. Kansas at least had that going for it—a horizon so far and wide and flat that every sunset was a once in a lifetime. It's amazing how the trees and buildings and obstructions of city life take away the sense of distance.
She broke away from the setting sun and turned back to her not-quite cousin Oliver, who still sat in his idling pickup.
"Nice truck," Anwyn said with a smirk.
"Gracias. And it's a pickup," Oliver said.
"Since when could you drive?" Anwyn asked.
"I've been driving since I was 14—it's farm country," Oliver answered.
"And you're a farmer?"
"Well, no," Oliver said. "If you're under 16 you can drive to and from work, which is what I’m doing. Though I do turn 16 in a couple months and it'll be legit."
Anwyn could smell the exhaust from Oliver's pickup and silence started to fill the moment.
"So, are you gonna ask a girl if she wants a ride?" Anwyn said. Oliver just smiled back, then gestured towards the passenger's side with his head. Anwyn climbed in and Oliver shifted to drive and the pickup rumbled forward towards Richmond.
"It's been a while," Anwyn said, rolling down the window using the old crank and resting her arm on the ledge like Oliver was doing.
"Si," Oliver said. "We heard you and your dad were coming." He left the second part unsaid, but gave a furtive glance towards Anwyn. She nodded. They both allowed a moment of silence. Anwyn let her hand rest on the tan fabric of the bench seat that ran between them. There wasn't an armrest, but there was a cupholder resting on the floor straddling the hump above the driveshaft. It was an automatic with the shifter coming off the steering column—a granny shifter—complete with a collection of rubber bands hanging off the lever.
"So this is your truck?" Anwyn asked.
"Si, it's my pickup," Oliver emphasized the last word. Anwyn smiled. "It's pretty old—actually used to belong to your grandpa—Mr. Miller."
"Really? He sold it to you?" Anwyn asked in disbelief, looking over at Oliver.
"Not quite. He sold it to Grandpa Frank. Grandpa Frank sold it to me." Anwyn laughed. It was exactly the kind of thing he would do.
"Did you have to scrape off any racist bumper stickers?" Anwyn asked. Oliver chuckled and shook his head. They had left the river behind and were coming up on Richmond and the cluster of houses on the south side of town. Anwyn realized how slow Oliver was driving, unsure if it was on purpose or if that's just the way he drove.
"So what do you do around here?" Anwyn asked.
"You know, stuff," Oliver said. "What did you do up there in Minnesota?"
"Not that much, I guess. It always feels like there's more to do, even if you don't do any of it. It's just weird, no shopping, no concerts, no culture."
"See, you're just misinformed," Oliver said. "We've got shopping, you just have to want brass fittings and tractor parts. And we've got concerts—maybe not the White Stripes or whatever it is you're into, but there are plenty of so-so local bands that play in crappy little clubs."
"And culture?" Anwyn asked. "I didn't see any concert halls or art galleries on my way into town."
"Then you must have been asleep, chica." Oliver gestured to a house they were passing, piles of rusted brown junk collecting in the front yard. "I call it found art. And there's plenty of culture to go around."
The pickup rolled past another house with a collection in the yard, this time pinwheels and yard gnomes. Oliver smiled at Anwyn and she just shook her head.
"You wanna stop by and see Catalina?" Oliver asked.
"Yeah, that'd be good. It has been a while."
"Besides, that's what we do around here," Oliver said.
"Visit," Anwyn finished. "I know."
The pickup turned off the blacktop and onto the gravel road. It rolled to a stop outside a small house on the south side of town, still south of the railroad tracks and closer to the river. The house was a teal green color and only a single story. Anwyn swung the door of the pickup truck shut and it resounded with a solid thud. It was definitely and old pickup.
"Hermana, I'm home," Oliver called as he opened the front door.
A sharp, whispered, "silencio!" came from the other room and a sheepish look came over Oliver's face.
"I forgot, it's just about bedtime," Oliver said, setting his keys on a hook next to the door and closing it after Anwyn came in.
"Bedtime?" Anwyn asked.
"You probably don't remember—you were a little distracted at the time," Oliver said as he led Anwyn through the living room and the hallway where the bedrooms were. The living room was small, a couch and a few chairs, a pile of unfolded laundry sat in the corner. There was no TV. It smelled very alive and fresh, but there was also a hint of mustiness—the old house smell. The hallway was narrow and lined with framed snapshots. Anwyn didn't recognize half of them, but did see Aunt Alejandra and Carlos, one of Grandpa Frank and one with Anwyn's immediate family.
She saw her cousin Catalina slowly closing a bedroom door—she looked older and wiser and tired, but her face lit up when she saw Anwyn. Catalina wrapped her arms around her cousin and whispered a greeting, half in Spanish and half in English.
"Why are we whispering?" Anwyn asked in a whisper herself. Catalina looked to Oliver and he just shrugged, so she took Anwyn's hand and pulled her back towards the closed bedroom door. Catalina opened the door a crack and peaked inside, then opened it wider and motioned for Anwyn to look.
She stepped forward and looked in the door and there lying in a crib was a baby, his thumb jammed in his mouth and his eyes closed and his dark hair looking just perfect. A mobile circled above his head, monkeys and bananas spinning around and soft music came from a music box on a nearby dresser.
"His name is Mateo," Catalina whispered to Anwyn and she smiled.
Mateo had just fallen asleep and was in that momentary state after the crying stops when babies look absolutely angelic. Anwyn absorbed the sight: the soft light from a nightlight in the corner, the spinning monkeys, the car and truck sheets and the little baby, zipped into a snuggly sleepsack. Anwyn stepped back and closed the door, remembering hearing something from Grandpa Frank or maybe Aunt Alejandra about Catalina being pregnant. It seemed distant and vague and she couldn't be sure.
"So when did—I don't remember hearing—" Anwyn seemed lost for words. The three had come out of the hallway and sat down in the living room, Catalina immediately reaching for a basket of laundry so she could fold onsies and burp rags while they talked.
"We don't keep in touch like we used to," Catalina said, shaking her head.
"I guess I knew, I had just forgotten." Anwyn said. "A baby. Wow."
"We sent an announcement," Oliver said, "Cute picture and everything. But we figure it might have gotten lost with everything going on."
"He was born in August. My little angelo." Catalina said. And then it dawned on Anwyn.
"What day?" she asked.
"August 12," Catalina said, slowly and with a sigh, understanding the tremendous weight of her words."
Anwyn nodded. The night of August 11 Isabelle committed suicide. Anwyn didn't find out until the next day, August 12.
"He's beautiful," Anwyn said. "I'm so sorry I forgot. We should have sent you a gift or something."
"No, we understand," Catalina said. "You had other things to worry about."
"That's no excuse," Anwyn said.
"It's OK," Catalina said as she stopped folding the sleeper in her hands and put it down. "We all grieved that day. I miss Isabelle." Anwyn didn't say anything in response. She just let the comment hang there.
"I'll still get you something—Dad and I, we'll get him something," Anwyn said, still sitting on the edge of the faded couch.
"Don't worry about it, cousin," Catalina said. "I'm just glad a small measure of joy could come on that sad day."
"He didn't look like a small measure of joy," Anwyn said. "How big was he when he was born?" The two cousins talked about Mateo and the typical questions surrounding a baby. Oliver sat in the corner and looked on, just enjoying the conversation.
"I should probably go," Anwyn said. "My dad's going to wonder where I am."
"You're welcome to come back anytime," Catalina said as she stood up. "We should have you and your dad over for supper sometime."
"That'd be good," Anwyn said.
"C'mon," Oliver said as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll drive you home."
"It's not that far," Anwyn said.
"No, it's OK. It's dark out now." Oliver said, taking his keys from the hook and heading out the door. Anwyn looked back at Catalina, who shrugged.
"Always the gentlemen," Catalina said. "Adios."
They climbed in the pickup truck and started back to Anwyn's house.
"So is it just you and Catalina?" Anwyn asked.
"Yeah, it's kind of a weird story," Oliver said.
"They always are."
"Well," Oliver started, "Catalina had been on her own and I was still living with my parents over in Carver. Catalina and Cody—that's Mateo's dad—were going to buy this house when she got pregnant. Cody, the jackass that he is—"
"Oliver!" Anwyn said. She never remembered hearing him swear.
"Sorry—but he is," Oliver said. "He took off as soon as he heard the news. Catalina refused to move back home and my parents were worried about her. She went ahead and bought the house anyway so I offered to come live with her."
"How come?" Anwyn asked.
"It seemed like a way to keep the peace," Oliver said. "Catalina shouldn't have been alone, but she was too stubborn to come home or ask for help. Mom and dad were worried and if she was alone they would have stopped over all the time and it'd just get ugly. I figured I could help her out and I told my parents it'd be a good deterrent for Cody or any other guy she might have her eye on."
"Always being the brother," Anwyn said.
"I guess," Oliver said, pulling the pickup into Anwyn's driveway. "It's been good though. She shouldn't have to take care of Mateo all by herself and he needs a dad. Not that I'm a dad, but…"
"I get it," Anwyn said. "That's cool. Thanks for the ride." She climbed out of the pickup and swung the door shut.
"Tell your dad I said hola," Oliver called before pulling away. Anwyn nodded and went inside, a bark or two coming from Charlie.
"Dad, I’m home," she called.
"There you are," Jack said, standing in the kitchen doorway. "I thought the coyotes might have gotten you." He said 'coyotes' without the long 'e', the way the locals say it.
"Nope, I'm too fast for them. I ran into Oliver and he took me over to see Catalina and Mateo. They live on the south side of town."
"Mateo?" Jack asked. "Oh, that's right. She had a baby." The two walked into the kitchen and Jack sat down at the table.
"Yeah, he's a cute little kid," Anwyn said, still standing. "We need to get her a gift. I can't believe we forgot about that."
"Well, it's been a little—a little much lately," Jack said.
"That's no excuse," Anwyn said.
"We can get them something this weekend," Jack said. "We'll drive into Morgan."
Anwyn nodded and grabbed an apple from the fridge. She headed up stairs to get her clothes and take a shower. It always seemed a little backwards to have to shower downstairs. She saw the snapshot from Richmond Café in her bedroom and stopped. She couldn't believe her cousin had a baby and she had completely forgotten about it. It was even worse that everyone thought Isabelle was a worthy excuse.
Anwyn looked in the mirror above her dresser. She wondered if it was wrong that she didn't miss her sister.
Posted by kevin at November 4, 2006 6:20 PM
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