by Brad Manuel
“Well, getting beat up by a girl in front of you helped.” He chuckled, “but it’s choices, you know? My life has always been about choices and roles. When I lived at home, I had good parents, father and mother, two little brothers and a little sister. We were poor. I made some bad choices, hung out with the wrong kids. I could never bring that home. When I was in the house, I had to respect my parents, and I loved my little brothers and sister. When I was at school, well, I had to be the guy you met. When my family died, I didn’t have the family role anymore, I didn’t need to show respect, and I fell into the bad group I had from school. They lived longer, they helped me steal food, they helped me stay alive.” Antonio looked at the tray of food Todd readied for the grill.
“Dude, are we eating canned ham?”
“Um, yeah, is that okay?”
“If that’s what we have, that’s what we eat.” He stated. “Anyway, I’m with this bad group of kids, stealing and doing bad stuff while all hell is breaking loose around the Bronx. I guess I just stayed in that mode. I thought being a badass was what kept me alive. When Sol slapped me in the face she told me in Spanish, ‘this is your family, you don’t disrespect your family, you know that.’ And she was right, I did know. Family kept me alive this winter, not being a badass.”
“Jamie told me you were always good to the kids.”
“Well, yeah, I mean, what kind of dick is mean to little kids? I’m gonna watch them starve while I have food? Ahmed? He’s a grown man. He needs to find food, but Cameron and the girls? They can’t get food. I’m not going to let them starve. That’s just evil, dude. There’s a difference between badass and evil.”
Todd nodded. “So what do you think we should do about Sal?”
Antonio’s face, which up to this point was cheerful, became serious. “That dude is evil. I’m sorry, but he’s mean. I’m not saying you haven’t known mean people before, but you probably haven’t. I have. There was this one guy in my gang? He liked to torture shit, animals, fish, anything that he could see suffer. It’s like, if he could make something else’s life suck more than his, he was making his own life better. I don’t know, that’s probably giving this dude too much credit, like he knew why he was being evil and shit. Anyway, he was evil. You wanted something really bad done? You go to Edgar. Dude sent shivers down my spine. I avoided Edgar.” Antonio noticed the cans of baked beans and picked one up. “Dude, I love baked beans, sweet. You pour them over the ham. The sweet with the salty, that’s a great meal.” He put the can down.
“Sal is a little like Edgar. Sal’s snapped, he doesn’t give a shit about anyone. He’s at his apartment right now, probably high as a kite, not giving a crap about us. That dude is stone cold evil. He hasn’t dropped a damn pound since I met him. He’s been eating food and keeping his weight up, watching that little girl Bridget go from a fat little obese girl to skin and bones.” Antonio saw the look on Todd’s face. “Yeah, you didn’t know? She was a fat little girl, one of those kids you would look at and be like ‘why is a five year old so heavy?’ Look at her now? She’s what? 35 pounds? Sal? He didn’t care a bit. He would stroll into the seminary, high, full of food, talk about doing this, helping out with that. Bernie would get excited about how Sal is finally coming through, and then poof, Sal would be gone again. He doesn’t want to work. He doesn’t want to be around other people. He is trouble.”
“So what do you think we should do?” Ahmed, who walked up to the fire, listened to Antonio’s assessment of Sal.
“Me? I’d leave his ass. I’d put sugar in his gas tank, put him at the back of our caravan, and watch his car sputter and die while we keep on driving. Ain’t no room for a guy like that in our group. He don’t want to be in the group anyway, so why pretend? Cut him loose.”
Ahmed patted the kid on the back. “Can you help me get some pots for the beans?”
Antonio nodded, and they walked towards one of the RVs.
“Ahmed, Tony, wait a second.” Todd walked to them. “You two are in charge of the Mac and Cheese. We have oil instead of butter, and you have to use the goat’s milk, but please make five boxes. People are hungry. Let me know when you put the noodles in the boiling water and I’ll start grilling the SPAM. I can heat the beans in a pot on the grill.”
“You got it.” Ahmed replied. “We’re on it.” He turned to Antonio and started talking about the Ellis Island trip. The boy nodded and engaged. It was their first conversation in all of their months together.
Jamie and Peter were back in their chairs as Melanie, Kelly, and Bernie set the tables for dinner. Solange, Avery, and Emily talked as the younger kids played soccer.
Todd lit the second fire pit. Peter and Jamie still had the first one blazing near their chairs.
“I see where you are going with this, Todd. I like your idea. May I borrow some of your wood pile?” Peter stood from his chair to help.
“Absolutely. The sun is going down and the temp is going to drop a bit, let’s have both fires going, and we can eat around them and my kettle grill.”
Jamie stood. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to do something today.” She followed Peter to the back of the trailer.
Todd opened the ham using the flat key on the side, working it around the tin container. He cut thick burgers from the loaves. He set a pot of beans on the fire to warm. The beans boiled and sputtered within minutes, sending a sweet smell of brown sugar and bacon into the air. Ten minutes later the tribe enjoyed an old fashioned cookout, sitting on blankets or chairs next to fire pits. It was fantastic evening, capping a fun and memory filled day.
Solange tried the SPAM, and after smothering it in beans, agreed it was a fine meal. The s’mores were the highlight of the night.
Everyone opted to sleep at the camp. It was late, and the seminary would be cold. There were more than enough beds around. Kids and adults scattered between the two king beds, pullouts, and couches in the RV’s, as well as the four rooms in the Plaza.
Todd sat next to Emily by the fire after everyone was gone.
“And just like that, we’re alone.” Emily said to her husband, holding his hand next to the dwindling fire. “Are you ready to start our new adventure tomorrow?”
“I’d like to think we’ve been on an adventure for a few months.” He chuckled back.
“Yes, but tomorrow we are getting to Hanover, at least I hope we get there tomorrow. Anyway, that was your plan, get to Hanover and start a life. Tomorrow we’ll be there.” She pulled their clasped hands towards her mouth and kissed the back of his.
“I know. Tomorrow is the start of a new life.” They sat by the fire, talking, and enjoying the quiet of each other’s company before walking into an RV and the last remaining bed.
38
Sal left his meeting with Peter and walked to his apartment across the park. He swallowed his favorite mixture of pills and vodka, and he passed out. He awoke from his stupor as the sun was going down. The reds, oranges, and yellows were a beautiful scene outside of his west facing window. There was a small balcony at the front of the apartment, more of an awning than a balcony. Sal opened the window, unzipped his pants, and urinated. It was one of his favorite things to do, pee straight onto the New York City street. He felt the warm temperature outside, and left the window open to let fresh air into the tiny room.
He looked at his stash of food and grabbed a can of beef stew. The can had a pull top, and Sal ripped the ring to expose his dinner. He enjoyed eating cold stew from a can. It reminded him of his early days in construction, when he kept cans of stew in his truck on job sites. It was a time before he met his wife, before his kids, when he earned cash bonuses for putting up the most drywall or framing out the most rooms. Cold soup reminded Sal of the days when his wallet was fat.
He sat in his chair and stared at the sinking sun. Sal picked an apartment looking straight down 71st street, unblocked by high rises. He liked to watch the sunsets each night, when he was coherent enough to see them. The west facing apartment also minimiz
ed the stench from Central Park.
After the sun went down Sal decided to go back to the camp and meet the new people. He put on his coat and shoes, and walked towards 59th, crossing the park on one of the old pedestrian sidewalks. As he approached the east corner of Central Park South he saw the campfires, smelled the food, and heard the laughter. He paused, assessing the situation before he made his entrance. There were a lot of people. Sal felt uneasy. He could intimidate Ahmed and the women, but there was that tall older man, Sal could not remember his name, and there appeared to be at least one other guy. There were a lot of kids and women too.
It looked like a party, fire pits blazing, people laughing and talking. Sal was reminded of how his life used to be and the parties he had at the shore. He stood in the dark and watched. Sal was aware of his current reputation. In a bizarre act of kindness he decided not to spoil the party. “Let them have their fun.” He mumbled. “I’ll come back tomorrow for some breakfast, meet the new neighbors.” He chuckled to himself, “meet the new neighbors.” He liked that line.
Sal stayed for another ten minutes, enjoying the scene as the little kids toasted their marshmallows in the fires. The last time he saw them, they were frail and weak. The New York group had four good meals in their bellies and renewed energy. “It looks like the gravy train has pulled in tah’ tha station.” Sal thought to himself. “I won’t have to hide food. I can just eat all of theirs. People will bring things to the table for me, instead of me havin’ to find it myself.” He turned and walked back to his apartment. “Enjoy your last night of solitude, Sallie, tomorrow you join the group.” He whistled as he made his way back to his studio.
When Sal got to the apartment, he was bored. When he was bored, he drank and took pills. He used to smoke things, but he ran out of those types of drugs long ago. Sal mixed different combinations of pills with Vodka, Goldslager, or whatever he could find. An hour after he walked through his door, he was looped and laughing at nothing. He sat back in his recliner giggling. His laughter filled the studio and echoed out of the open window for 20 minutes before Sal Torvale passed out for the night.
Sal picked the west facing apartment because he enjoyed sunsets, and because he did not like morning sun through his window. He slept late, another benefit of his new life. Today his eyes opened at 6am because the window he left open had his room temperature in the 40’s. Sal stood up, peed out the window, shut the window, and curled on his large leather sofa under several blankets. He popped a quick pill to stave off the headache he felt forming, and drifted back asleep.
His eyes opened again at noon. It was still cold in his apartment, and he did not have wood for a fire. Sal sat up on the sofa, letting the covers fall onto the floor. He was fully dressed. He rubbed his forehead and eyes and looked at his watch. “Let’s go see if the new neighbors have a decent cup of coffee.” He chuckled again at his new neighbors line. Sal stood, steadying himself by placing his hand against the wall. When the room finished spinning, he made his way towards the apartment door.
It was a solid fifteen minute walk to the campsite from Sal’s apartment. He used the time to shake out the cobwebs lingering in his brain. Whatever pills he mixed, he could never remember the next day, had been a brutal cocktail. They knocked him out. He was still groggy. He was looking at the ground when he walked right off the curb onto Fifth Avenue. Sal stopped. The RV’s were gone. The trailer was gone. There was a small SUV on a car flatbed sitting where the RV’s used to be.
“Holy smokes, Sallie, what have you gotten yourself into now?” He panicked. He looked around frantically for the RV’s, thinking that if he looked back and forth a few times, they might appear. Piles of trash, neatly stuffed into old cans, were all that remained. Ashes lay in the spots where the fire pits burned brightly the night before.
Sal walked around the empty campsite. He looked to the spot where he and Bernie parked his car. It was still there. He ran over and noticed a piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper.
He pulled the paper from under the wiper and looked at it: “Hanover, N.H. Highways 95N to 91N to Norwich, VT Exit”
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” He roared angrily.
“I helped those people survive for six months and they leave me a cryptic damn note? Are they out of their goddamn heads?” Sal dropped the paper on the ground while he thought. “Okay, Sallie, let’s get things under control.” He walked over and sat down on the steps of the Plaza Hotel. He put his head in his hands and rocked. He burst into tears, crying uncontrollably. “You really did it this time, Sal. You really screwed up. This is like losing the house all over again. You messed up bigger this time.” He began to scream. “God dammit, why did this happen? Why can’t you do things right?” He rocked back and forth crying and screaming. Suddenly he stopped and lifted his head.
“Stay calm, you can figure this out.” His head was fuzzy, still fighting through the drug haze. “They left, but they gave me a note with directions. I can just follow them when I want to go.” He looked around the campsite again, hoping there might be something else. Sal was alone. The RV’s and people were still gone.
He became enraged again.
“I was bored with these people anyway.” Sal said to himself. “I didn’t need them, they needed me. I can do better without extra mouths to feed and that stupid seminary. Find the silvah lining.” He thought. Sal stood and used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face and the snot from his nose. He walked down the steps to his car. He turned the key and the engine zoomed to life. He peeled out of the parking spot next to the plaza, leaving thick black tire marks as he headed back to his apartment and his sanctuary.
The piece of paper Sal pulled from his windshield blew down Fifth Avenue.
Three weeks later Sal was in a parking garage to siphon fuel into his car. He tried to open his gas flap, repeatedly pushing a button on the dash to pop the latch. When it would not open, he walked to the back of his car to inspect the flap. As he wiped dirt and grime from the car, he noticed a smiley face along with an A and P etched into the paint. As much as he tried, Sal could not pry it open. Antonio had glued that tank flap shut the night of the cookout, sealing the threads of the gas cap below for good measure. The teen left his initials to let Sal know who had done the deed, a final insult from the people who left Sal behind.
39
Bernie gave her last service in her beloved, New York, seminary at 10:00am. She did not expect people to attend, but the entire tribe was there. She was touched by their gesture, giving a brief homily about Noah and the great flood, comparing the RV’s to her personal rainbow. God’s sign for her to leave the old world behind for the new one He created. The adults cried. The kids were restless.
The tribe divided between the RV’s by 10:45. Ahmed volunteered to drive the RV without a trailer, and Todd sat behind the wheel of the RV pulling the storage locker. Todd honked his horn twice, and there was a loud cheer from the cabin. The vehicles pulled away from the seminary and were across the GW bridge towards their new life before Sal’s eyes fluttered open at noon.
Todd was awarded the “girls only” RV with Bridget, Wendy, Casey, Meredith, Avery, Solange, Kelly, and Emily. It was a peaceful vehicle filled with coloring, crafting, and a princess movie. Ahmed’s RV was the “boys rule mobile.” Loud music, wrestling and video games were promised. Jamie and Peter loved the action of the boys’ RV. Melanie lost the coin flip with Solange, as did Bernie with Kelly. They sat on a sofa in the boys’ car. Antonio sat next to them. He was tired, and not ready to join in the fun.
“Let me know if you need to stop, otherwise, Hanover or bust.” Todd’s voice crackled through a walkie talkie.
“The boys are already screaming. I might need a cold compress on my forehead in about a half hour.” Ahmed shot back.
“We should think about stopping in a few hours, maybe on the other side of Hartford, Connecticut. We’ll grab lunch and walk around. Talk to you then.” Todd accelerated out of New York.
Book Three
40
The Dixon brothers walked from their childhood home on Choate Road to Webster Cottage. It was in the low 40’s. The road, thawed to the pavement in several spots, did not re-freeze over night. The sun was up, and the sky was clear.
It was a beautiful late winter day in Hanover, New Hampshire.
They stomped their feet on the mat outside the cottage, and opened the mudroom door to a house busy with activity and conversation. Rebecca was showing Craig how to make the beds, and explaining to him that it was “required” at the cottage. Craig nodded, but the look on his face said “really? Every day?”
Matt and Greg were in the kitchen laughing. John waved good morning to Craig and Rebecca, hung his coat on the coat rack, put his shoes in the boot bin, and walked back to see what the laughter was about.
“What’s going on back here?” John gave Greg a hug. “I still can’t believe we found you safe and sound. I bet you’re in better shape than when we dropped you at Hightower this summer.”
“Good morning, Dad. Coffee is hot in the pot. Squirrel hash is in the oven.” Greg’s cheeks were red from laughter. “Matt was telling me about all the things you fed him. You know, before Matt kind of took over the cooking.”
“You mean the month of tuna mac? Is that what you’re laughing about? Me keeping you alive?” He scoffed in mock anger towards Matt.
“Month? Really, Dad? You think it was just a month of tuna mac? If I see another can of tuna mixed into macaroni and smothered in Italian dressing…” Matt could not contain his smile.
“Well, it’s what we had, and I changed up the pasta when I could. There was tuna spaghetti, and tuna rotini, and tuna penne. There were a lot of tuna pasta’s. That’s how I kept it fresh.” He shook his head as he poured his coffee. “And you make fun of tuna mac but say nothing about squirrel hash? That’s not fair.”
