LOST HIGHWAY

by Zac Funstein

  Deonilde had endeared most of them to her by her many kindly acts, prompted by a loving nature that even years of impecuniosity unappreciated labor for others had not hardened. Being destitute might make some mean but not Deonilde.

  Deonilde passed the morning in going over her few possessions making little packages of the things treasured to be given to her friends after leaving.

  The handkerchiefs she had embroidered with scenes of Christ being crucified before her vision was bad, was left for Naiara Madrid Archuleta. A little lace cap that had been given her years ago by Hilary Ruelas Prado (indeed still had her design embroidered on the inside where no one ever bothered to look) which had never worn, believing it too ‘fancy,’ was for Asha Agosto Carmona who had fallen on hardish-times. The heavy shawl was for the oldest inmate Joanna Laboy Pedroza, who always suffered with hyperthermia. The warm bed-stockings were neatly folded then left with a note of love to Lydia Hidalgo Cortez, who had rheumatism as well as numerous similar complaints; to Mrs. Verónica Maestas Beltrá, the beauty pageant winner, Deonilde left her lace fichu. It had to be her for no one else seemed worthy.

  There was ample room within the tiny trunk for her clothing-many things inside had been given away or deteriorated so that the space inside had seemingly grown. The plain cashmere that had been turned/returned until it had nearly lost its original texture, but which was her Sunday best, the dresses for every-day wear, the night-dresses of Canton flannel, the woolen underskirt, the lighter one for summer, the heavy stockings, the Sunday suit for best, a life of Idelfonso Velez Zepeda that a director had given her, her Bible—plus the packing was completed.

  When Mrs. Marrero came herself to tell her that Mr. Tejeda had arrived in a Bentley Continental, Deonilde trembled so that it was dreaded the pensioner would not be able to go down to meet him. But finally Deonilde put on the little bonnet that had been worn for many years, plus her ‘mantle’—an antiquated wrap that had been given her by some kindly patron of former years—then they went down the stairs. Mr. Tejeda looked at the little old lady coming into the room—this little, kindly old lady, who showed so plainly that life had sent her sorrow but not bitterness—and offered her his support, saying:

  "I am glad you are ready, Miss Zelaya. We will have a nice ride to Toronto-of that you can be assured."

  Her mood visibly improved so that it was almost tangible.

  “A comfortable ride without too many bumps in the road would be pleasant.”

  There had been a lot of potholes before.

  Deonilde looked up at him like a pitiful child-that peculiar symbiosis the old get with the other end of the life-wheel-those first setting out on their journey.

  "I—I—may I sit down a while—I—I'm rather trembly.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Then, after a few moments, Deonilde mumbled:

  "Will you wait here or somewhere, Mr. Tejeda? I want to say good-by. Mis' Marrero was sure I hadn't better see the ladies until I was ready to leave, as it might upset them."

  Tejeda looked at his watch.

  "I will wait in the car for you, Miss Zelaya. Don't hurry; take all the time you want."

  Deonilde went to the veranda where it was known the women were in their accustomed positions, immediately the one about to depart was the center of the curious old ladies, who welcomed any excitement that would relieve the monotony of their dull lives.

  "It's true, Deonilde—then it's true, you're-a-goin' to leave us! I would never have believed it-well God bless us all. It's true what Mis’ Cruz heard Mis' Marrero tell Mr. Marrero last night. We all accused her of telling lies-but it wasn’t a lie at all."

  Everyone was clearly upset.

  "What did Arydea hear Ligia say?”

  "Arydea heard Ligia say, 'What do you think, Jimeno! Deonilde Zelaya is leaving us! The most liked person within these hallowed ranks is leaving us for good!What rotten luck for us that is.'"

  "That's what they told us," Deonilde said quietly; "Mr. Tejeda is coming to take us away in his new car. I come to say goodbye to each ‘n every one of you."

  The old-women sat forward abruptly, stopped their knitting or darning, so that they would not miss a word. Deonilde was very popular-it was always the popular ones that seemed to die or-very occasionally- leave. All that was left was miserable people like themselves who hardly said anything much less anything that was nice.

  "Well, I never! Deonilde leaving I would never have believed it "

  "Is it true, Deonilde? Can it be for good?”

  "I don't know—that's what Mr. Tejeda said. Mr. Tejeda's waitin' for us- I must be goin'. Good-bye, dear Aidé. Good-by, Mayda . Goodbye, Mis' Martínez; you always been good to us. Goodbye, Mis' Beltrán; I ain't never goin' to let slip by how good you was to us when I was down with the flu. Good-by all, good-by. I'm comin' often to see you. Good-bye."

  Deonilde looked slowly around on her friends, then walked down the veranda to the waiting motor. Just as the soon to be departed reached it old Eleonora came shuffling up to her. "Oh, Deonilde," Eleonora mumbled, taking her grasp, "I'm so glad for you, I'm so glad. I pray you will come to see us again."

  The loving touch was too much for tired Deonilde.

  "Oh, Eleonora," the emotional old-lady said, "it gives us such a great hurt to leave you all! Listen, Eleonora! I will write to you as soon as I have settled. Good-bye!"

  To Deonilde's embarrassment both Mr./ Mrs. Marrero were waiting for her beside the motor to say goodbye, both were effusive in their farewells.

  "You will come to see us, won't you, Miss Zelaya. We have enjoyed having you with us so much."

  The chauffeur tipped his cap, then opened the passenger side wide. Slender his chauffeur's uniform fitted him like a glove. The appearance was something like an ex- soldier-something military anyway-his manner was stiff/starchy. Deonilde was tucked into the luxurious motor, a soft tartan rug wrapped around her- then they drove away. The Bentley glided to their destination with its unusual cargo.

  The geriatric passenger was quiet for the greater part of the journey, Mr. Tejeda left her to whatever it was that concerned. Finally Deonilde sat up more then began to take an interest in the fittings of the car. Mr. Tejeda watched her.

  "Do you like the car Miss Zelaya?" Macario Tejeda asked.

  "It's beautiful. You know it's the first time I been in one of these.”

  "Why, is it possible? I thought everyone had been in a car at least once in their life," muttered Macario teasingly.

  "No, not everyone, Mr. Tejeda; least not something fancy like this- I don't hold that more'n a few of the ladies in the home have been in one of these. This is fixed up real nice."

  "I am glad you like it," Mr. Tejeda exclaimed. "It is yours."

  Deonilde stopped suddenly.

  "This—this—mine?"

  "Yes, this is yours, plus you have more at your new home. All from the proceeds of the Chromium tester your husband created."

  Deonilde gasped.

  "More like this?"

  "No, not exactly the same. One is a Nissan Tiida and one is an Audi TT."

  "Why—why—what'll I do with so many? I can't ride in 'em all at once."

  "No, but you will find that you can use them-but don’t worry now you will see."

  "Can I use them whenever I want to?"

  "Certainly; they are yours to dispose of or use as you wish. Jules’ creation seems to have found a lot of adherents. You are a very wealthy lady. There is a Mr. Thiago Alves Ferreira waiting to see you who wishes to employ your husbands skill even as we are travelling now.”

  Mr. Tejeda examines his wrist-watch again.

  For a moment Deonilde was guilty for ever being unkind to her sadly deceased husband or for being unkind about his calculations which were adjudged unlikely ever to function

  “All you have to do is to send word to one of the chauffeurs they will be ready for you."

  "Send word to who ?"

  "The chauffeur,Crisanto Calvillo Rentería the m
an who is driving us now."

  "Is Crisanto mine, too?"

  The driver looked from under his cap again; the brass-buttoned suit with leather driving gloves seemed to gleam.

  "Yes your employee; you have another-a reserve driver Selesio Mayonga Anguiano."

  "What'll I do with both?"

  “It will be a real dilemma.One will be on duty a certain number of hours, and then the other takes over."

  "Oh—" the recipient of all this good fortune was quiet momentarily. "Can I take them anywhere I want to?"

  "Certainly. They are yours within reason-naturally we cannot violate people's inalienable personal-space-but within reason."

  "Then, I know what I'll do! I'll take the old ladies for a ride! For a day out that is.”

  Deonilde said nothing more for a long time; then:

  "Are we goin' very fast, Mr. Tejeda?"

  "No; not so very fast. Are you nervous? I will have Rentería drive slower. I forgot you were not used to it."

  Deonilde stopped him as he started to speak to the chauffeur.

  "No; I wasn't that, I was just wonderin' if Crisanto couldn't go a little faster."

  Mr. Tejeda looked somewhat surprised, but gave the order.

  "We'll go as fast as you like; only I pray we won't be arrested."

  The old lady sighed as if this might have been an exciting option.

  At last they turned, passed a pair of big gate-posts up a graveled driveway, the Bentley stopped quite abruptly.

  Another uniformed man that might have been Rentería’s brother came from the house then opened the car, Deonilde came to herself with a start.

  "Are we there already? I was kind of hopin' it'd never stop."

  Mr. Tejeda gravely helped Deonilde out of the Bentley.

  "Welcome to your new home, Miss Zelaya- everything seems to have smiled upon you," Macario said. "But let’s not dither shall we see what we can find.”

  They entered a large hall Deonilde stood hesitatingly, not knowing what to do. In a moment a voice was heard from above-the watched the person slowly descend the staircase.

  Whilst this was happening-Miss Filis Gastelum Ballesteros, computer operator, lived, as it were, in dual- worlds-a Dr Jekyll/ Mr Hyde of residences. The one her office, dingy yet reduced as to proportions, but from whence Ballesteros could wander through the medium of the fibre optic cable or wi-fi on a sort of electric tunnel, to distant cities/towns; where, although even though ostensibly alone, Filis could amuse herself chosen by listening to then speculating upon the many messages of sorrow, of speculation of pleasure, constantly going over the aforementioned computer. Those that deemed her a hacker were adjudged churlish. Those that said that Filis remotely broke into others systems got an even worse reception. The airwaves were there for everyone- to deem they could be excluded was uncountenanceable. Compelled by the failure/ subsequent demise of her father Eber Pedraza Ballesteros to support herself, or to become a burden upon her unfortunate mother Lorea, whose scanty means barely sufficed for herself plus her younger brothers Prudencio Solórzano Ballesteros/Fileas Farías Ballestero whilst alive, Filis chose the more independent, but harder course. For Filis was not the kind of girl to wait for someone to appear then marry her, thus relieve her of the burden of self-support. Filis was too much of realist to ever expect that to come true-there were no Prince Charmings. So, from Ottawa's university, where Filis learned the profession Ballesteros drifted to her present one in Vancouver.

  To her, as yet, there was a certain fascination about computers. But Ballesteros had a presentiment that in time the charm would give place to monotony, more especially as, beyond a certain point, there was positively no advancement in the profession. Although knowing Filis could not be content to always be merely a computer operator, Filis resolved to like it, since it was the best for the present. There were certain aspirations indulged in of the future, now hopefully, now utterly disheartened, that Filis was so far away from their realization. These were of fame, moreover fame as a scientist. Whether it was the true genius stirring within her, or that most unfortunate of all things, an unconquerable desire without the talent to rise above mediocrity, time alone could tell.

  But the other world in which Miss Filis Gastelum Ballesteros lived was very different from this electronic heaven; the world bounded by the confines of a bedsit at Miss Fuencista Chávez Lara’s. It must be confessed that there are more pleasing views than a line of flapping sheets, but it was better than nothing.

  Perhaps, too, there was more agreeable company possible than Ms.Wereburga Peres Munguia.

  Therefore if not sharing in the computer-world of Miss Gastelum Ballesteros, loneliness, plus the unpleasant sensation known as ‘depression’ that seemed to go with this were not uncommon to Wereburga. Sometimes this threatened to overwhelm her so that chemical support was needed. Hospitalization had been resorted to although ECT blissfully was avoided thus far by Wereburga.

  Miss Munguia, who, although in reduced circumstances, boasted of certain royal traits inherited from dead/ gone ancestors—who perhaps would have been surprised could they have known at this late day how very genteel they were in real-life—rented a flat in Hotel Miramontes, on the ground floor, of which was let a solitary apartment; not on account of the weekly emolument received therefrom, ah, no! but ‘for the sake of having someone for company’ which seemed reasonable enough for none of us should be always alone.

  In this respect Wereburga was truly a contrast to the hefty Mrs. Heidi Acosta Santana, who lived in the remaining suite of that floor, who let every space down to the last closet that possibly could be in order as it was frankly confessed to ‘earn an honest living’. For a constant struggle with the ‘ways/means’ whereby to live had quite annihilated any superfluous gentility Mrs. Santana might have had. There were practical expediencies that must be taken care of-there was nothing that could be done.

  Miss Filis Gastelum Ballesteros was despite still being of tender years what they sometimes call a spinster—not because this was liked, but on account of circumstances over which there was no command a life-mate had never been met now probably never would-as was their dread—her principal aim outside of the never-expressed, but much considered-of one of finding her blind-date to end all blind dates, was to keep watch/ ward over the affairs of the occupants of neighboring apartments, see that they conducted themselves with the propriety becoming the neighbors of so very genteel/ unexceptionable a person as Miss Gastelum Ballesteros. In pursuit of this occupation Gastelum was addicted to sudden/silent appearances at windows opening into the hall, plus entrances carelessly left ajar much after the manner of the seances that were held here sometimes. Those that claimed that this was somewhat scary were told that Gastelum was, however afflicted with a chronic flu, that somewhat interfered with her ability to become a first-class listener on account of its producing an incessant sniffle plus spasms of violent sneezing for which a box of tissues were kept constantly at her side.

  Miss Ballesteros upon going home to her bedsit, found herself still going over the probable significance of an e-mail anticipated between a Mrs. Deonilde Loera Zelaya to a Naiara Madrid Archuleta at the Shirley Baca Candelaria Catholic Home For Old Ladies of a Gentle Disposition. The contents were difficult to discern but the gist largely was that someone known only as Thiago Alves Ferreira had been duped regarding the dual nature of something called Oestrogen JHW acedia of which there was an A plus a B version. Thiago Alves Ferreira had been given the A but the presence of the B had not been mentioned. Nothing was mentioned regarding the significance of this-so that the interceptor was allowed to draw what inferences they could. Whether the omission was malign in intent or pure indifference was not made clear.

  As the gas heating in her room was turned up full, Filis went over not of these things that were so often hers to turn from different angles but instead scolded herself for caring whether that distant individual was man or woman. What mattered it to a young lady who felt herself above such seeming
flirtations?

  The miserable atmosphere that seemed everywhere did not lessen when the tenant beheld Miss Munguia standing in her lintel. For Miss Ballesteros did not, to speak candidly, find her landlady a congenial presence, only remaining upon her premises because being there was a lesser wickedness than living in that most unhomelike of all residences, a boarding-house or worse homelessness.

  "I called on the off-chance you were in," the unwelcome visitor remarked; "I have been lonesome to-day. I usually run into Mrs. Santana in the afternoon, but Heidy has been out-shopping no doubt. I can't make out where everyone can have gone! not that such is just the company I desire. She has never been used to anything above the mundane but is better than no one, and at least can see in others the culture/ standing never attained herself," then Miss Munguia sneezed, glancing at Filis with an expression that plainly said her lodger would do well to imitate, in this last respect, the lady in question.

  "I am very little acquainted with Mrs. Santana," Filis replied smugly. "Her lodgers like her very much, I believe; at least, Holguín speaks of her in the highest terms."

  Filis could never say or here ‘Lodger’ without picturing the cover of the David Bowie LP of the same title with a man who seemed like having fallen from a roof.

  "Holguín!" repeated Miss Munguia, with a sniffle of contempt. "A blundering, awkward man, who is always doing or saying some shocking thing!Then has the audacity to ask to be excused afterwards."

  "I know that H is neither elegant nor talented, is often very awkward, but is honest-even dare I say it- kind, one is willing to overlook other deficiencies for such rare qualities," Filis replied, a little warmly, "and so Mrs. Santana adheres, I am confident."