Traveling Light

by Thalasinos, Andrea

  “I’m not mad.” Paula shook her head.

  “You seem very quiet, not like usual.”

  “I’m just shocked.”

  “I tried to protect you—”

  “And you did, Mom; you did.”

  “I didn’t want people to say bad things about you.”

  “Mom, they didn’t.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Me too,” Paula said. “Let’s go back.”

  * * *

  It was pitch-black by seven. Eleni was snoring softly on the futon before the local weather report was even over. Paula turned off the TV, locked the door and grabbed the ziplock bag with Fotis’ old collar and leash from the top of the TV. Fotis trotted past her up the stairs to the loft, racing for a place on the bed. He jumped up and circled before settling into his sleeping position. She took the collar and rope leash out of the bag and set it down on the covers. She looked at him. “Do you still miss him, good boy?” Fotis stretched his nose and sniffed. His pupils dilated. He then tucked his nose back into his tail and closed his eyes.

  She placed the folded leash and collar on the pillow beside her, inhaling their musty scent. What Theo must have lived through—she’d wished she could have helped him, gone to see him. She’d have gone looking for him. It wasn’t right for Eleni to have kept it all secret; Paula’s heart felt fractured with a break that might be impossible to heal. Impossible to go back and be the daughter he might have needed or find the father she’d so desperately longed for. And yet maybe he’d done just that, summoning her during the last few moments of his life.

  Tears leaked out of her eyes as she drifted off. Just as she’d begun to doze into the peacefulness of that knowledge, Eleni’s voice woke her.

  “Paula?” she called up the stairs. “Paula.”

  Paula jumped up out of a deep sleep so fast she became nauseous.

  “Someone’s at the door.”

  But before Paula could get to the stairs, she heard the door open and close.

  “It’s just Panagiotis; I let him in,” Eleni announced.

  As Paula peeked over the railing, Sigmund looked up, victorious. Her mother was chattering on in Greek as the bird kept turning his head like he understood.

  Paula sat down on the top stair, her chin resting in her hand. Thinking back to all the years she’d spent being angry—each man who’d failed her. But curiously, she wasn’t angry with Roger. With a heavy heart she climbed back into bed and fell asleep. She dozed off but quickly woke after having a weird dream that she couldn’t recall, feeling around behind her for the surety of Fotis. The bed was empty. “Good boy?” she called. Standing up, she crept over to the rail and looked down into the living room. In the dimness of the hall night-light she counted three forms on the futon. Sigmund and Fotis briefly looked up at her.

  “Oh forget it.” Paula turned and climbed back into bed.

  CHAPTER 14

  October brought peak autumn color toward the end of Eleni’s second week. Neither woman had mentioned a return ticket, since both knew it would only take Eleni back to a life of isolation. The days had settled into a comforting routine, and the longer the visit went on the more they avoided the topic. Paula dreaded watching the weeks of her NYU leave of absence tick down toward Roger’s return from France.

  Eleni had fallen in with a regular coffee group of women who met at the Oklahoma Café. Marvelline would pour a cup of coffee, sit down and help herself to the latest gossip. Eleni would laugh, listening to stories about people she didn’t even know, recounting the tales back to Paula in great detail. And while it heartened Paula to see her mother so invigorated, it also saddened her, knowing that such camaraderie would come to an end once Eleni stepped foot on an eastbound plane. Their relationship had grown in a way Paula had never thought possible. She swore to herself that once back in New York she’d visit Eleni more often.

  * * *

  Just before noon they’d started food prep inside the raptor ICU with Eleni slicing up a deer heart that a bow hunter had dropped off the previous day. Both had noticed Rick pacing outside and arguing with someone on the phone. They’d caught bits and pieces of conversations, since the morning was pleasant enough to leave the windows open.

  “E fonie tou exchi alaksi,” Eleni said.

  Paula agreed that his voice did sound different.

  “Is this the Jailbird’s food?” Eleni’s nickname for the barred owl. She lifted the tiny pile of meat, handing it over to Paula to be weighed.

  “Yep—the Jailbird.” Paula chuckled, entering the gram weight into the computer. Another sharp verbal exchange made both women turn toward the open window.

  “Ti epethis?” Eleni asked in Greek.

  Paula shrugged, “Den Ksero,” not knowing what it could be. She’d never heard Rick so agitated.

  “Pigo exo.” Paula pointed toward the door.

  He’d just ended the call as Paula stepped out. Leaning against the aviary enclosure, he played with his upper lip, thinking. She didn’t get the sense it was “love” problems with Ms. Kate.

  “Everything okay?” Paula approached him.

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “A lot.” His phone rang.

  “Is there something I can do?”

  He looked at the number. “Excuse me; I’ve got to take this.” He crossed his arms and hunched over, walking away from her in measured strides, talking in guarded, hushed tones.

  Paula looked at her mother through the window screen, shrugged and made a corresponding I don’t know face. Both watched a few moments longer before Paula stepped back in to check how much the barred owl had eaten. The bird had just begun eating solid food and seemed to be gathering strength.

  “Faiee olli to faito. He ate it all.” Eleni was so excited about the owl eating that she said it in two languages. Paula looked inside the box.

  “Hhh—hey, little one, you’re feeling better, huh?”

  The owl swiveled his head toward Paula’s voice.

  Just then Rick burst into the treatment room. “Hey, Paula?” he called, and sank into the green armchair in the corner near the desk lamp. His hands scrolled through his hair in a troubled way. “I’ve gotta take off for a while; I’ll be back later.”

  She stopped. “What? Are you all right?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You don’t look okay.” She sat across from him on the computer chair, rolling it closer. Eleni pulled the ends of her cardigan together and stepped next to her daughter.

  “Would it help to tell me what’s going on?” Paula asked.

  He sat quietly for a few moments and then looked up at her. “Do you know what a puppy mill is?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve been trying to put this guy out of business for the past few years. He’s been reported to the USDA. Numerous violations. Their regulations are a joke. Enforcement is an even bigger one.” He stood up and began to pace. “Now he wants out.”

  “Well, isn’t that good?” she asked.

  He looked at her. “It would be except for the fact that he’s got maybe fifty-five adult purebred dogs stacked in cages that no one wants. Now he’s threatening to set the barn on fire and walk unless rescue groups cough up seventy-five bucks a dog to buy him out.”

  The image was so horrendous it stopped her breath, the wind knocked out of her. To burn down a barn full of caged animals? Dread settled like a sick aftertaste; she wasn’t aware that she’d clenched both her fists.

  “Dog brokers are up to their eyeballs in puppies; they don’t take adult dogs except to sell as breeding stock,” Rick explained. “I wish I could say this wasn’t typical. They sucker rescue groups by threatening to burn down their operations,” he said bitterly. “After they cash out, they start up again in some other godforsaken state. Now he’s headed to Iowa, land of the free market.”

  “This is the legislation you’ve been working on?”

  “Part of it.” He blinked and looked down into the
creases of his hands.

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  He sighed and rubbed his face as he stood. “I’ve been arguing with rescue groups all morning. You give the son of a bitch a penny, you give him carte blanche.”

  She winced. “But then what about the dogs?”

  Rick headed for the door. Eleni was silent.

  “Rick,” Paula called, following him out. “Let me come with you,” Paula raised her voice.

  He climbed in and started his truck. “Stay here,” he called, turning the truck around in the driveway.

  “Pa meh.” Eleni grabbed Paula’s arm and pulled her toward the Escape. Sigmund appeared from nowhere. The bird flew up at Paula, excited by her agitation.

  “Get lost.” Paula waved his wingtips away from the top of her head.

  “Ciga, Panagiotis, ciga.” Eleni motioned with her hand for him to back off and he did. Eleni climbed into the passenger side.

  Luckily, the keys were in the ignition. Backing around, Paula raced down the gravel driveway, skidding a right turn onto Highway 62. She realized she didn’t have her purse but floored it anyway.

  The back of Rick’s truck became visible as he crested a hill. “There.” Eleni pointed.

  * * *

  It was about a fifteen-minute drive. Tall columns of gray smoke were visible long before the turn. Trucks and cars were parked along the sides of the road; Paula followed toward a dilapidated white barn that had more bare spots than paint. Smoke billowed in unnatural cloud formations.

  In all the commotion she lost sight of Rick. People ran in and out of the barn, their arms loaded with shivering dogs. Someone had dragged a garden hose and was spraying inside the barn door.

  “Ekei.” Eleni pointed. Paula spotted him, too, racing past a group carrying large dogs. She parked, flung open the car door and ran after him.

  “Paula, wait!” Eleni yelled after her.

  Thick gray smoke billowed out the doorway. The cries and screams of dogs were deafening; her skin prickled all over. The smell of ammonia hit her like a vapor barrier as she entered. The urine smell was so strong it seared her nostrils.

  Fear gripped her as flames climbed like creeping vines up a corner pillar. Wire cages were stacked into three- and four-high walls of animals separated by narrow aisles. The front third had been emptied, their doors standing open. But as Paula raced deeper into the barn, she found cages jammed with dogs, several packed in each. Spotting three dark figures huddled against one another in the back of a cage, she unlatched the door. “Come on,” she called sweetly. The dogs didn’t move. “Hey, let’s go.” She felt for a collar. She then pulled his scruff and the dog yelped. The bottom of the cage was covered with feces and urine, which was also matted in the dogs’ fur. “I’m sorry, but you gotta get out of here,” she explained, and grabbed the dog by the torso, pulling him away from the other two. He cried out and then braced his feet against the cage, leveraging against her effort.

  “Come on,” she grunted, easing up to gather the dog’s front paws and pull him out. The others followed with no resistance. Someone beside her took the dogs and ran.

  The fire began making a humming noise that made her body hair stand on end. Flames snaked up the side wall. Her fear felt like dark fingers flittering in her chest. The urge to tear out of the barn was overwhelming. She fought it and turned to the next cage. Unlatching the door, she climbed in and pulled out three more dogs, pointing them toward the sunlight. “Go, run.” Someone behind bent over to lift them.

  From the next crate she dragged out three small wiry-coated dogs and set them down. They stood mute, as if it was the first time their feet had touched ground. “Go.” She turned them, pointing them toward the door, and gave them a shove. They all shrank back. Thankfully, someone behind her scooped up all three and ran. As she went deeper into the barn, the whoosh of flames crackled and popped as she opened cages and lifted dogs down. Toward the back she saw walls of caged dogs. Paula knew there were far more than the fifty-five Rick expected. Water from the fire hoses began sprinkling like rain through a missing corner of the roof. And while the fire on one side hissed and steamed in defeat, the other side flared into a fury, consuming the dry wood.

  She crouched just below the smoke line, crawling toward the back. Smoke was obscuring the outlines of objects. Opening door after door, she turned in to a machine, reaching in, grabbing dogs. Just moving, acting and racing against the fire that had become her rival. The metal latches were hot to the touch. “Go, go,” she yelled, shooing out dogs into the arms of others. The dogs were paralyzed with fear. “Shit. Go, damn it!” She crawled into each cage, kneeling across months’ worth of accumulated feces and urine.

  “Paula.” She looked up. Rick was kneeling on top of the stack with two large dogs in his arms. He had his T-shirt pulled up over his nose and she did the same. She reached up to take the first dog.

  “I’ve got her.” She grasped a large husky, the dog’s underside heavy with milk, and handed her off to another person. Then Rick passed down the second.

  “You got him?”

  “Yeah.” Someone else took the second one.

  “Here.” Next Rick handed down a litter of six puppies, each no bigger than Paula’s palm. “He missed some,” Rick said bitterly. Paula transferred them to someone behind her. She followed Rick, taking and lowering dogs while simultaneously working the lower tiers, unlatching cages and pulling out the frightened animals. She looked up. The whole back section of the barn was still loaded. One litter of puppies was isolated in a cage; she picked each up, tucking them into the hem of her sweatshirt. A tall husky in the cage beside them shrieked. Paula opened it, and the dog jumped out, sniffing furiously at the puppies in Paula’s sweatshirt. She knew it was the mother. “Come on, Mama,” Paula said as she handed them all off. “This is their mother,” she said to the person who took them.

  A man’s voice yelled from the back of the barn, “Everyone out; it’s gonna collapse.” Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. The dog screams were deafening.

  She wrestled free and ran toward the animal sounds. She caught a glimpse of Rick again, scrambling up and down the top stacks of cages, lowering dogs.

  “Rick,” she yelled. “These are tied.” She pantomimed scissors. He tossed his pocketknife. She slashed the ropes and opened the cage doors.

  “Out,” she yelled. “Go, go!” she hollered, automatically crawling in, dragging out resistant dogs, shoving them into the aisles, tails so tightly glued under their bodies in fear it looked like they had none.

  “Paula,” Rick yelled from on top of the stacks, his arms filled. She climbed up to the bottom empty cage and took them one by one, lowering them toward the barn floor.

  She climbed up two stacks, lying down on the cage tops to bend over and open the doors. Heat from the metal wire burned hot through her jeans. The cages were up too high for the dogs to jump.

  “Aren’t there ladders?” she yelled to him.

  “He probably took ’em all.”

  “Motherfucker,” she cursed him, reaching in to pull legs, scruffs, whatever she could get ahold of to lower the dogs down. Some thumped to the ground, yelped and then took off running. She looked over at the aisles; most of the cages were empty. Rick was down on the floor. “Get this one,” he yelled. She opened the cage and leaned in and pulled out a husky by the front leg.

  “I can’t get him.”

  “Just pull the other leg,” Rick yelled.

  She was able to get ahold of the dog’s front to pull him out. Rick knocked over a stack of empty cages and climbed up to reach her. He bent in and grabbed the two adults. She followed Rick’s form; the smoke had gotten so thick she could no longer see daylight.

  “Let’s go,” Rick yelled. The din of people calling one another was drowned out by the roar of the flames, hissing from the water and the thud of collapsing beams.

  Just as Paula was about to leave, she spotted a small, dark form through dozens of empty
wire cages, obscured by the smoke. Alone, the dog was sitting quietly in a corner cage that everyone else had missed. He was serene, his head slightly lowered as if he had already surrendered to his fate. She knocked over empty cages and climbed up to reach the dog. She opened the latch and reached in. “Come on; come on,” she coaxed. The dog looked at her but didn’t move. She then reached in, grabbed a hunk of skin and pulled him out under his arms, lowering herself with the dog clutched to her chest. The ceiling was rippling in coils of fire.

  A beam came crashing down from the barn ceiling, to her left. Paula jumped down onto the ground. The back wall of the barn started to cave.

  “Rick,” she screamed. The dog’s nails clutched the skin beneath her sweatshirt. Rick jumped down from the top cages, his arms loaded with small dogs. They crawled down the darkened main aisle. She felt disoriented, clutching the brown dog and following the soles of Rick’s shoes.

  “Paula,” she heard her mother shriek as she emerged. She rolled over, gasping, trying to get her lungs to fill with air. Eleni pried Paula’s hands from the small dog. Her head pounded, her eyes burned and she began retching. Someone picked her up and carried her off, laying her down on the ground and placing an oxygen mask over her face.

  “Now take some real slow breaths,” a young man instructed.

  She shuddered. Her arms throbbed. The smell of burning hair filled her nose.

  “Just relax and try to breathe,” the voice instructed.

  She opened her eyes expecting to see someone, but all she saw was the blue of the sky. “Are they all out?” she rasped, her voice muffled by the masks. Her throat burned like she’d swallowed embers.

  “I hope so.” It was Rick. He began coughing.

  “You lie down, too,” the paramedic directed, placing a mask over Rick’s face.

  “Paula.” Her mother was crouched over her, crying. “Paula.”

  Paula grasped Eleni’s hand. She breathed in the oxygen though it burned and made her cough.

  Dozens of others were lying down or kneeling, breathing in oxygen. A loud crash made everyone turn and look. Half the barn collapsed. The fire crew had just arrived. After checking to see that everyone was out they gave up the barn for lost, letting it burn itself out.