I reached in and pulled them partway out for a peek. There were two bumper stickers all right: elect bush-cheney and jesus saves. I now had my ecumenical starter kit! “Thanks,” I said, putting the stickers away.
“You are welcome,” Pastor Bob replied. He returned to gathering his things, and I headed for the door, free at last.
Tina had not made it to the service—I didn’t have any idea why, and I certainly wasn’t going to quiz Pastor Bob at this point. I decided I’d head out there myself and just hope that she was there. I made sure the directions she had written out for me earlier were still in my pocket, and I set off to the gas station and then to Tina’s to see my new home.
Chapter 14
ANGEL OF PREY
I headed back toward the lights of town and found a gas station. I put nine bucks’ worth of gas in the tank and saved a buck to buy Willow dinner. She was hungry, so we went to the McDonald’s drive-thru and got her a hamburger. That was one of her favorite treats, when we could afford it. We lucked out because it was two-for-one burger night, so we both had dinner on that one dollar.
I pulled out Tina’s instructions again and headed out in that direction. It began to rain as we navigated the turns on Ohio, Indiana, California, and finally John Road, past the dead-end sign around the curve. The road turned to gravel with huge potholes as I searched for the first trailer on the right.
About a mile down the rutted road, I was greeted by headlights coming directly at me in the middle of the road. I slowed and pulled over, flicking my lights. A pickup truck pulled up alongside me; it had a big blue top covering the back. The window rolled down and a man stuck out his head. I put my window down and heard the loud roar of an engine in desperate need of a new muffler. Exhaust fumes filled the air and assaulted my nostrils.
“Lost?” the man yelled over the roar.
“Yeah,” I said, reluctantly sticking my head out. “I’m looking for Tina ... I don’t know her last name.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I know who you mean. I just left there. Just keep on going. And good luck!” He smiled.
I rolled the window back up and took a deep breath. I was tired. “We’re almost there, girl,” I told Willow.
We drove on, around a curve and down a small hill. Then I spotted Tina’s trailer. I pulled into the driveway, and the headlights of the van revealed a small camper just behind the big trailer. I knew that had to be our new home.
I dashed through the rain up to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” yelled a voice from inside. About thirty seconds later, the door opened. “Here you are,” said Tina, abruptly handing me a broom and a dustpan. “I haven’t had a chance to clean it up for you. You might need these. The door is open. I’m off tomorrow, so I’ll see you then,” she added, closing the door.
I picked up the equipment and headed back to get Willow out of the van. I grabbed her in my arms and juggled her and the broom and dustpan until I got to the camper door and used my little finger to pull the latch. Thankfully, the door swung open easily, and we quickly climbed inside to get out of the now pouring rain. I closed the door and set Willow down, while digging in my pockets for a book of matches.
The lit match provided just enough light for me to locate the switch. I flipped it and saw Willow was sitting at my feet. I bent down to scratch her head. “Willow, girl, we have a home! And the lady said we can stay awhile.” She responded to the excitement in my voice with a squeal and a good shake. It was thrilling to know that we weren’t going to have to pack up and leave in the morning. Whenever I awoke after a one-night stay in a motel or on somebody’s couch, I always had a sinking feeling, knowing that we would be sleeping in the van again by nightfall.
I looked around the small camper. There were some dirty dishes in the sink and an unmade bed in the back, but it was quite comfortable considering how the rain was pounding on the metal roof.
The wind picked up as I opened the door to go get my sleeping bag from the van. A gust caught the door and slammed it into the side of the camper. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the storm, holding my cap in place with one hand and pulling the door closed with the other. Then I raced to the van to get what I needed.
It didn’t take long, but I was dripping wet by the time I climbed back into the trailer. I took off my soaked shirt and laid it by the sink. Then I stripped the sheets off the bed, discovering a Tootsie Roll candy wrapper, some popcorn kernels, and some mouse leavings. I rolled up the sheets, sweeping the debris onto the floor, and rolled out my sleeping bag.
It had been a long day—being saved and all—and I was cold and tired. I finished taking off my wet clothes, called Willow, and we eased into the sleeping bag.
This blur of a day began to sort itself out as my muscles began to relax. This was too good to be true. Somebody had given me a place to stay, with no strings attached. “What a nice thing to do,” I thought. “I need the rest. I’m going to sleep till noon!” Willow had already found her way to the bottom of the sleeping bag and was warming my feet.
It was quiet, except for the pounding rain. It reminded me of my first childhood home, back in Ohio. My parents’ home had a green metal roof, and I loved to fall asleep to the sound of the rain. I rolled on my side, and within seconds I was asleep.
Dawn had just broken when I heard pounding on the aluminum door. “Richard, it’s me!” Tina’s voice called out. I heard the door open and then footsteps as she stomped into the camper. I opened one bleary eye to see Tina’s face hovering over me.
“I’ve been called in to work today,” she said. “I was talking to my husband last night, and we were thinking it might be best if you paid us something for letting you stay here,” she added.
“I—I thought ...” I began to answer as I regained my senses.
“Maybe two hundred or three hundred a month?” she suggested.
“Well, right now, I ...” I was having trouble responding.
“You don’t have to pay today,” she said. “In a day or two would be fine. I’ve got to get going to work.” She turned and headed for the door.
The commotion awakened Willow from her slumber, and she made her way out from under the covers, placing her head beside mine. Neither of us was quite awake yet. But that didn’t stop the worrying. Where was I going to get a couple of hundred dollars in two days?
I heard Tina’s car start, back up, and then churn up a little gravel as she sped away. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fall back into slumber, so I began preparing myself to get up and face the day. So much for sleeping till noon! I slowly pushed myself out of bed and slipped on my jeans, my shirt, and my still-wet socks and shoes, and I opened the door of the camper.
I was facing the back door of Tina’s trailer. Two women were standing on a small wooden porch by the door, both puffing away on cigarettes. They smiled at me as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stepped out of the camper. “You must be the new boy,” said one.
They were skinny women—almost frail—I thought, as I approached. Both wore jeans and old sweatshirts, and neither was wearing shoes. “Homeless guy, right?” the frailer of the two asked in a voice affected by some type of speech impediment. I nodded.
“It didn’t take her long to replace Roy,” the other lady said, and they both chuckled. “You must have passed Roy on your way in,” she said. “He lived in the camper for a couple of months.”
“Did he have an old truck that needed a new muffler?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“He stopped to give me directions last night,” I said. “My name is Richard.” I extended by hand.
“I’m Madonna,” the woman said, extending her hand in return. “This is Roberta.” I shook hands with the other woman as well.
“You want a cup of coffee?” Roberta asked. She took a big drag of her cigarette, tilted her head up, and slowly blew the smoke into the air.
“Sure,” I answered. “I’d love one.”
Roberta snuffed out her
cigarette on the wet railing of the porch and then opened the trailer door and went inside.
“You been living in your car?” Madonna asked.
“Yeah—for a while,” I answered. “I’ve sorta lost track of the time.”
“Tina said you can stay here?” she asked. “For free?”
“Yes,” I replied, and then hesitated. “Yesterday she said I could stay for free. But this morning, she said she and her husband had talked it over and that they thought I should pay something.” Madonna smiled, and then she turned her head away.
Roberta came through the trailer door with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Here’s your coffee,” she said, holding it out to me.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it in both hands.
“Tina said he could stay here for free yesterday, and then told him today he needed to pay something,” Madonna informed her, laughing.
“That’s the last thing you’re going to get for free here,” said Roberta, pointing to my coffee.
“Oh, look, Roberta!” Madonna said, looking toward the camper door. “A puppy!” Willow had decided to face the world herself and was standing at the door of the camper looking out.
“That’s my friend Willow. Come, girl,” I called, and she jumped out into the wet grass and scurried to the porch.
“She’s darling,” Roberta said, bending to pet her. Willow stretched as Roberta rubbed her back. Madonna also bent down to pet Willow on the head.
While the women were cooing over Willow, my eyes panned out to survey the neighborhood. It appeared that I was at the end of a dead-end road. There was another blue trailer about fifty yards away, covered by a moldy plastic carport held up with two-by-fours. A 1970s Chevy Monte Carlo was sitting on blocks in the front yard, its hood missing and its back right side undergoing an extensive Bondo treatment. Two rusted burn barrels sat beside the driveway.
These women both appeared to be nearing forty, or had just breached that magical age for women. Roberta was the shorter of the two. She had long stringy black hair that needed brushing. Her chin jutted out from her lean face, and her eyes were deep set. Madonna had her strawberry-blond hair cut short, and it was obvious to me that it was not professionally done, even by the gals down at Supercuts. She either cut it herself, or Roberta did it. The sleeves of her pale-green sweatshirt had been cut off, revealing the bottom half of a red-and-blue heart-shaped tattoo with the words “Dale & Madonna” forever etched into her skin.
I took Willow to a park in town for a romp and spent much of the day looking for some type of work. At each job-search stop, someone would hand me an application, I would fill it out, and then they would tell me, “Somebody will call you.” Since I had no telephone number, I knew that was going to be hard to do.
I found the St. Vincent de Paul assistance center in town and asked if they could help me out. They gave me a ten-dollar cash voucher for the nearby 76 station, five dollars in cash, and a list of the churches that provided free meals to the poor. I already knew that list by heart. Fortunately, the Lutheran church was serving an outstanding tuna noodle casserole that evening at six.
I reluctantly made my way back to Tina’s about seven, not knowing what to expect. Would Tina be Jekyll or Hyde?
But luck was on my side, at least for the moment. Willow and I made it uneventfully back to our new residence and into bed without any contact with my new benefactress/landlady.
The sound of Tina yelling at the top of her lungs woke me from my slumber.
“You can’t do anything right, you stupid bitch! You don’t do anything I tell you! I ought to kick your ass out into the street where you came from!”
I could hear a woman sobbing. And I thought I could hear her saying “I try; I try,” through the sobs. “Don’t throw me out. I have no place to go.”
The voices stilled for a moment. I rolled over on my other side and closed my eyes. But it wasn’t over.
“What did you say?” Tina demanded in a loud voice.
“I, I, I ...” stammered Roberta in response. “You shouldn’t get so mad at me.”
“Mad?!” Tina shrieked. “I’ll show you mad! Get in your room!”
I could hear the stomping of feet and a door slamming. Slowly I sat up in bed and moved the curtain aside to look out.
In the porch light, Madonna was lighting a cigarette. She took a big drag, tilted her head up, and exhaled. Then she leaned against the side of the trailer and sighed a deep sigh. Eventually, she stood up and stepped off the porch, cocking her head slightly to the left as she began to walk. She looked up, took about fifteen paces, and then stopped. Then she cocked her head a few degrees more, and as she walked back into the light I could see the pain and concern in her expression.
I let the curtain fall back into place and lay back down. I sighed to myself. There was nothing I could do. The yelling continued, but now, at least, it was muffled by the closed door of Roberta’s room.
I had been awake for about half an hour, lying in bed with my hands held behind my head, listening to the birds chirping in the early-morning light. I had my escape plan in place and was just waiting for Tina to leave for work. I had locked the camper door.
The peaceful sounds of the birds stopped abruptly as the trailer door opened and then slammed shut. Then I heard the sound of the latch on the camper door being pulled. “Shit,” Tina muttered. There was a rustling of keys, and a second or two later she opened the door and stepped in.
“Richard, don’t forget to get that money today,” she said as she stepped toward the bed and stood over me.
“Okay,” I said.
Then she turned and stormed out the door, slamming it closed. She got into her car. The engine turned over, the transmission screeched into reverse, and gravel flew as she accelerated. I took a few deep breaths and listened for the birds to begin singing again.
A few seconds later—right on schedule—I heard Roberta and Madonna open the door for their morning smoke. I could hear their voices—Roberta was crying and Madonna was trying to console her.
I got out of bed, put on my clothes, and wrote a quick note to Tina: “Sorry I have to leave, but I have no money and no prospects for any. Thank you. Richard.” I put it on the fold-out table in the kitchen.
I pulled open the curtain and peeked outside. The two women were still standing by the back door in their bare feet, puffing away. Madonna looked my way, and I knew she had seen the motion of the curtain and sensed my prying eyes. I closed the curtain and stepped back.
I decided I’d better find out what was going on, so I opened the door and stepped out. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Madonna replied. Roberta was quiet as she looked toward the ground. Then she looked up at my face and took another drag off her cigarette. Her face was strained, and it was easy to see she had been crying.
“What kind of cigarettes do you smoke?” I asked, trying to engage in some small talk.
“Salem Lights,” she said, pulling the pack from the pocket of her jeans and showing me the nearly empty green-and-white package.
“Tina seemed to be in a rush this morning,” I observed. The ladies just nodded and puffed.
“You want a cigarette?” Madonna asked.
“Yeah. I don’t smoke very often, but every once in a while I do. Thanks.”
She reached in her pocket, pulled out her pack, and pulled one out for me. “Here you go,” she said. I took it. She reached for her lighter; I leaned forward and got a light.
A few seconds of silence passed and then Madonna filled the void. “I suppose you heard the screaming?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, it’s something you’re going to have to get used to, if you plan to stay,” she said.
“But she doesn’t have the right to hit me,” Roberta blurted out. “She should be put in jail. She treats me bad. I hate her!”
“Jesus, Roberta. Slow down,” Madonna interrupted. “You know nobody can understand you whe
n you talk so fast. Slow down!”
I could see the tears welling up in Roberta’s eyes as she looked at her friend.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Roberta said. “So what if I forgot to put a coaster under my glass on the coffee table? It didn’t hurt it.” She stared at the ground, dejectedly. “Now I’m not allowed to have any pop for two weeks!”
“You know that isn’t why she got on you, Roberta,” Madonna said. “She must have had a bad day at work, or maybe she lost a lot of money at the casino on her way home. She was pissed off at something else and she took it out on you.” She paused and looked toward me. “Tina takes everything out on Roberta. When something goes wrong, she starts in on her.”
“What a shame,” I said. “But you don’t have to take it,” I suggested.
“Oh, you really don’t want to mess with Tina,” Madonna said. “She will rip you a new one, little man. Her husband is scared to death of her. He drives a truck, and I can tell you he is only happy when he is on the road.”
I laughed, but then quickly began wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Roberta was angry. “She’s so mean to me. She yells at me and hits me and takes my shoes and locks them up so I can’t leave. It ain’t right,” she added, brushing a tear from her cheek.
I looked at them in disbelief. “Yeah, she does,” Madonna began. “She locks up our shoes when she’s gone so we can’t just walk off.”
“She takes all our money, too!” Roberta interrupted, nodding her head. “That ain’t right, neither.”
I stared at them again, bewildered.
“Yeah,” Madonna said. “We both get money from the state. Roberta isn’t quite right—can’t you see that? And, well, I’ve got my problems, too. We both get $336 a month, plus $150 in food money on our food cards. When our money comes in, Tina takes it for rent. She buys all the food on our cards. We make dinner, clean the house, and take care of the place.
“We have to keep track of everything we use. She even charges us to do our own laundry—a dollar fifty to wash and a dollar to dry and a dollar for a scoop of soap. She buys our cigarettes out of our money and gives us thirty dollars in cash each month.”
Breakfast at Sally's Page 16
