Pavement Ends: The Exodus

by Kurt Gepner

  "What happened?" Evie hollered from the kitchen.

  "Abby hit her head," Norah shouted back, finally laying Emily in her carrier. She rushed to Salvador’s side. "Oh, Baby Girl!" Her voice was full of sympathy. "Momma’s going to look at your owie. Okay, Baby?" Abby nodded vaguely, bawling, with gigantic tears spilling from her eyes.

  Hank stomped up the stairs with his shirt undone and wearing only one sock. He stood in the hall doorway, watching, as Norah parted her daughter’s hair. Downstairs, a door banged, loudly. Abby shrieked in pain when her mother rubbed over the beginnings of a goose egg.

  Evie, having got the food off the stove and the back door opened for ventilation, hurried into the living room. "What happened to my little Abby?" she asked frantically.

  "She’ll be fine, Mom," Norah said over her shoulder. "Take care of Emily."

  Evie’s face was creased with anxiety, but she turned and picked up the still crying toddler. "Hey, hey my little girl," Evie said with a smile and playful quality in her voice. "How’s my little Emmy? Huh? How’s my little Emmy?"

  A set of feet stomped up the stairs and a voice bellowed from the hall. "What’s all the ruckus up here?"

  Hank looked over his shoulder at his father-in-law and said, "Hi Camille. Everything’s fine. The kids are here, Evie’s trying to burn down the house and Abby hit her head."

  "She all right?" Camille asked; his gray eyes were full of concern behind a large pair of thick-framed glasses.

  "Seems to be," Hank answered, and then he addressed his own son-in-law. "Salvador, let me squeeze past you, so I can get at that alarm."

  Salvador moved aside and Hank squeezed his girth between the troubled parents and an antique chaise. Inside the dining room, Hank flapped his hands at the detector above the archway. "You know, Evie," he said in a loud voice. "If you’d start using the kitchen timer, instead of the smoke alarm, your cooking would probably taste better."

  "You just watch yourself, Mr. Shumway," Evie retorted. "Or you’ll be getting no food; bad or good." She held Emily out to look at her eyes. "Did you hear what Grandpa said about your Grandma’s cooking?" in response, Emily shrieked louder.

  After a few seconds of fruitlessly waving his hand, Hank reached up, popped the cover off of the alarm and yanked out the battery. Slapped by the abrupt silence, the two crying children went quiet with the vanished siren. Only a residual sniffling told the tale of trauma from moments before. Camille, still standing in the hallway, bellowed, "Who’s this?" his age-blotched cheeks wobbling along his jaw line.

  "Hi Pipi," Norah said. "This is my husband, Salvador." She took Abby into her arms and finished her introductions. "Salvador, this is my Pipi, Camille."

  Just as he reached to shake hands, Salvador was forced to grab the corners of his towel before they slipped apart. After again securing his modesty, Salvador said, "Hello, Sir. I’m pleased to meet you."

  Camille wrapped his sausage-thick fingers around Salvador’s proffered hand and smiled, toothlessly. "So," he said to his granddaughter, over Salvador’s shoulder, "this is your Mexican, huh?"

  In a stern, reproving voice, Evie barked, "Dad!"

  Matching her in every quality, Norah snapped, "Pipi!"

  Hank snorted.

  Salvador just shook the old man’s hand with a smile and said, "Yes, Sir. I was born in Mexico, but I grew up in Tucson."

  Camille’s toothless grin widened as he rubbed a broad hand across his thick, nickel colored flat-top. "I had me a Mexican for a while, but my daughter chased her away," he said

  "Dad!" Evie said, with a resounding pitch. "I didn’t chase off Rosanna. First of all, we didn’t know you were seeing someone. Secondly, you didn’t tell her that you were coming to live with us. Then, when she came to visit you, you and Hank hid from her in the basement until she went away. And finally, when I got home from work, you made me tell her that you didn’t want to see her anymore." Evie had taken a defensive posture with her arms wrapped around Emily. "Now go put your teeth in, ya old fool, and come up for some tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches."

  "Oh, no," Camille declined. "I had some beans and rice for breakfast."

  "Yeah, I know," said Evie with disdain frosting her words. "You woke me up at five a.m. with the smell. How many times do I have to tell you not to boil onions?"

  "Did that wake you up?" Camille bellowed.

  "Yes, Dad," Evie confirmed. "Every, friggin’ time. Now go down and put in your teeth. You’re joining us for lunch, whether you like it, or not. Then you’ll get to meet your other great-granddaughter."

  Camille winked at Salvador, his high forehead creased with the exaggerated gesture. "See how they treat old people around here?" Salvador chuckled as Camille stomped back down stairs and slammed shut his door.

  "Well," said Evie. "That’s one way to meet your grandfather-in-law."

  Salvador turned to face his wife and mother-in-law. "He seems like a nice man. Is he always so loud?"

  Evie replied, "Yes. Not only is it a DuBois trait, but he’s half deaf and refuses to wear a hearing aid."

  Salvador nodded. "Okay. I’m going to go finish my shower."

  Hank said, "I’m going to finish changing. I want soup and sammiches. Mmmmm," he slurped in his best imitation of Homer Simpson. "Sammmmichessss."

  The men dispersed, leaving mother and daughter to cope with the distressed children. Norah and Evie laid a comforter down over the living room rug and put out several toys for the girls. While the little ones settled down, Evie told Norah of the arrangements.

  "I’ve cleared out the two bedrooms up here," she said, indicating the ground floor. "So the upstairs is pretty much all yours. And we’ve stocked up on all kinds of food. I’d advise that you and Salvador take your old bedroom. It’s a little smaller, since the remodel, but it’s over the movie room. The master bedroom is over your pipi’s room. If you don’t want him to know every time you two monkey around, you’ll give that room to the girls."

  "But he’s half deaf," Norah asserted.

  "He is," Evie bobbed her head in agreement. "But, only the half that should hear what you want him to hear." She gave her daughter a sardonic smile. "Trust me; the half that you wish couldn’t hear… can hear just fine." Norah lifted her chin high with understanding. "Ohhhhh…"

  "Yeah," Evie said, meaningfully. "And as you saw, he has no filter on his mouth. Says whatever’s on his mind," she commented and flicked her fingers in the air as a conclusion to her sentence. "You were too young to notice, but until we had the basement finished and moved into our new bedroom, everyone in our neighborhood knew whenever your dad and I got happy."

  Norah clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head. "I don’t want to know this!"

  Evie smirked, because she’d felt the same way about her parents. "Okay, you keep my grandbabies entertained while I go finish up our lunch." She left her daughter and went into the kitchen.

  Salvador opened the bathroom door and called out to his wife. "Honey, will you bring my clothes?"

  Norah huffed, "Just a minute." She unzipped the gym bag and rifled through it until she’d collected a whole outfit for him: Worn out blue jeans, socks, underwear, a pair of tan suede loafers and a maroon tee-shirt with the faded image of a fire breathing man to complete the ensemble. "Hatch, NM: Chili Capitol of the World" was written on the shirt. Nothing was clean, but it was dry.

  Once they brought in their bedroom stuff, they’d have plenty of clean clothes again. "Mommy will be right back," Norah said to her girls. She brought the clothes to her husband, who was waiting impatiently with the bathroom door narrowly opened. Steam from his shower billowed past the top of the door.

  Salvador reached into the hall and Norah piled the bundle of clothes across his dark, firmly muscled arm and hung his shoes on his fingers. He pulled his load into the bathroom and said, "thanks," as the door snapped shut.

  Norah sighed and clenched her jaw. She wished that Salvador would show a little more affection. They talked, now
and then, and he told her that he loved her. He worked hard, really hard, so they could scratch by. But he almost never touched her, except in bed. Sometimes she felt like she was nothing more than his cook, housekeeper, sex partner and the mother of his children, but not his wife.

  Still, there were times, here and there, when she felt like a woman married to a man. Maybe being away from his family and all his friends would change him. Maybe he would see how her dad loved her mom and then start treating her more like that. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe she would just have to deal with it. Norah went back into the living room and sat down with her babies.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Evie was humming an old show-tune as she bustled about the kitchen. Two of her grandchildren were here along with her youngest daughter and son-in-law. For dinner, she expected her other two children, Kyle and Lexi, to be here. Kyle, her son and the oldest of her three children, would bring little Izzy, of course. If Evie’s own little sister made it over, it would be the first assembly of all four generations. Her whole family would be together, under one roof. Evie only wished that her mother were still alive.

  She set the soup on simmer and took the burnt sandwich out to the back porch. When they had built it, she’d insisted on the installation of a half-door from the utility room to the deck. Both dogs, Reggie and Kodie, had their paws on the ledge of that very same half-door when they heard her come out. Seeing their mud-caked paws made her glad that she’d insisted on that one point.

  "How are my boys," she cooed. They craned their necks to reach her. "Look at you two. You’re both soaking wet. Give me kisses." She stuck her cheek out far enough for them to eagerly lick. Dangling the sandwich in front of their noses, she said with a musical voice, "Okay, I have treats for you."

  Attentively, the two dogs, brothers in spirit, perked up and leaned back. Evie quartered the burnt sandwich. "One for you, Reggie," she said and handed him a piece. The mammoth Rottweiler gingerly took it from her fingers. "Kodie, your turn," she trilled. His dark muzzle pulled back so as not to touch the treat with any other part of his mouth. Delicately, the Akita sank his gleaming white teeth into the sandwich quarter and pulled it from her fingers. Kodie hopped down and daintily ate his piece from the floor.

  "Okay, Reggie, another one for you." Evie gave him a second quarter. Reggie was as gentle as Kodie in accepting his gift, but once he had a treat free and clear he gobbled it up without hesitation. Kodie popped back up to the door sill. "There you go, Kodie. Aw, Reggie. Don’t give me that look," she supplicated. "It’s all gone. You had your share."

  Evie felt as if she were betraying her furry children, because she had them locked out of the house and was giving them very little attention. She thought back to when she began participating in conformation trials. She had done so much research and talked to so many breeders. Hank had teetered on the brink of insanity while coping with her obsession. It wasn’t that he didn’t support her; the contrary was true. In fact, he had encouraged her to follow her passion. But that passion nearly consumed their lives and he became, understandably, frustrated with her.

  At that point in their lives, Norah was graduating valedictorian from high school and had received a scholarship into the Anthropology program at the University of Arizona. Anthropology! How would that pay her bills? Evie inwardly fumed. Of their three children, Norah had been given the most opportunities. And so far as Evie was concerned she had wasted them by studying a useless subject, allowing herself to get pregnant and then dropping out of college.

  Kyle had gone to trade school and was earning good money as a Union Electrician. Lexi, their eldest daughter, had taken Business Administration at the community college. At least those were practical pursuits and were paying off. But Norah was too much like her father, her head in the clouds and no sense of direction. No matter her reservations, however, Evie spoke nothing but pride for her youngest daughter. She would never injure her daughter’s ego by revealing her true feelings. Besides, now that Norah was home, Evie could coax her to study something useful, as soon as she got enrolled at WSU.

  As Evie cooed to her dogs, she reflected on the era when her children had finally left the nest. Hank’s beekeeping business was doing very well then, and growing. They could afford her to quit her job as a corporate recruiter, or headhunter as it was called in the trade, and start a dog-centric business. Finally, the day after Norah left for college, she made a visit to Kazzmaine Kennel. They were nationally reputable breeders of Rottweilers in Olympia, Washington. She’d made arrangements to purchase the pick-of-the-litter. And Reggie was certainly all of that.

  In conformation circles, he was known as Reginald Kaiser Wilhelm Shumway. When she first brought him home Hank said the puppy looked like a wild bear cub, all full of spit and vinegar. With the exception of Westminster, he was so beautiful that he won everything she’d entered since his first year. He was now a gorgeous, four-year-old stud.

  Two years ago, she flew to Des Moines, Iowa, where she found Kodiak. He was a papered Akita that had been rescued from a bad home. The pictures and story that she’d read about him had moved her enough to pick up the phone. And even though he wasn’t a show dog, since his left ear tended to flop down, she agreed to adopt the poor boy.

  Within a week of bringing him home, Hank hooked Kodie up to the yard wagon and had him pulling around the neighborhood kids. Everybody loved it, especially Kodie.

  That inspired Evie to enter the world of Dog Carting and Agility. Kodie excelled at both and ranked fifth in the nation for the former and third for the latter. With these two dogs, Evie had earned a valuable reputation. That reputation (in the form of training and a dog day-care business), as well as regular stud fees, was what now paid the majority of their bills. Those bills now included their newly acquired second mortgage.

  Evie swallowed down the bitterness that crawled up her throat. She knew it wasn’t Hank’s fault that all his hives had inexplicably died out. Hank was always trying new ways to make money and this one had been working, until then. But almost all of the honey bees around the world had died. They called it Colony Collapse Disorder, and it had devastated agriculture. Famine had become a global epidemic, even in the United States. Food prices were astronomical, especially fruit. Honey was literally more valuable than silver.

  Evie felt petty for resenting her husband and guilty for not being a supportive wife, but she couldn’t help blaming him for taking up what had become yet another useless endeavor. If not for her business savvy and sheer determination to succeed, they would have lost everything. A frown pulled at her face as she thought, That’s a worry that will go away, pretty soon. Shamefully, Evie glanced over her shoulder, as if fearful that her thoughts had been overheard.

  Hank didn’t see things her way. He never did. And now he divided his time between volunteering as a black smith at Fort Vancouver, selling wild herbs and mushrooms and working as a handyman. They were all honest pursuits, Evie supposed, but he spent so much time doing small jobs, beating on metal and traipsing around the forest that he was barely contributing to their bills.

  Take care of each customer like they are your only customer and eventually you’ll have more customers than you can handle. That was Hank’s philosophy. Evie only hoped that he could handle getting the garage/apartment built before summer was over. He was so capable, she knew. If only he lived up to his potential, I would fall in love with him again, she thought.

  In fact, it wasn’t that she didn’t love him. There was certainly affection between them. The truth was that she was as comfortable with him as an old pair of shoes. Her problem was that she didn’t admire Hank any more. In her opinion that was the same as not respecting him. Evie shook her head to physically abandoning that line of musing. Instead, she returned to her kitchen and lunch preparations.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Everyone else had congregated in the living room. The children were the center of attention and Camille was gushing about how Abby looked just like Evie when she was a little
girl. "Except Abby is a lot darker than Evie ever was," he noted.

  "Well, Pipi," Norah said informatively, "that’s because Mimi was as white as you." She did not withhold her condescension. "Salvador’s people are Mexican. That makes Abby half Mexican. That means she’s going to be darker than Mom was."

  Camille nodded, taking in everything Norah was saying. Then he turned to Salvador and asked, "Is that little girl yours?"

  Salvador puffed up. He had groomed his tight goatee and styled his short hair and when he slipped an arm around Norah, Hank appraisingly admired how handsome a couple the two of them made. "Yes, Sir," he said with a grin at Camille.

  "Oh," Camille said, thoughtfully. "I thought she was Norah’s little girl. Where’s her mother," he asked, conversationally.

  "I’m her mother!" Norah exclaimed, incredulously. She stood and picked up Abby. "I’m Abby’s mother and Salvador is her father." Norah spoke deliberately and loud enough that she was sure her grandfather could hear. "Salvador is my husband and Emily is our daughter. These little girls are your great-grandchildren and they are half Mexican."

  Camille smiled. His face was a little longer with his teeth in. "You know," he looked out through the window, seemingly oblivious to the reproving lecture he’d just received. "When I was a kid, we never thought we could live to see fifty. I figured I’d be lucky to have grand kids. I never thought I’d be a great grandfather."

  "Well you are," Norah said, feeling a little less defensive.

  Camille continued on as if she’d said nothing. "And we never had a notion to marry anyone who was a different race." Norah’s mouth dropped open, and she rolled her eyes to look at Hank. Camille didn’t see her stricken look, and kept talking. "You can thank your Mimi for that. She was down there with Rosa Parks, helping out when all that mess went down.

  "You know, I had the first integrated barracks on base," he reminisced of his time in the Army. Chuckling to himself, he said, "Everybody was wound up tighter than a tick. Keeping the whites and blacks from going at each other was like a full time job." He looked over at Salvador and then at Norah. "I’m real glad you could find someone who makes you happy," Camille said with a smile.