Johnson Junction

by J. W. DeBrock

  “That doesn’t make me feel much better,” I said.

  “Maybe not, but it’s the truth. Some of us got lucky and only went up there once.”

  “Once is enough for me.” Bry tried to skip a stone across the unsuitable surface of the water. I looked at my friend. “How the hell does he get away with all the things he gets away with?”

  Donna leaned back a little, a thoughtful expression on her face. She waved her hands around. “Chica, look where you are. There’s nothing here. Not many people, very little law, no one cares what goes on around here. People get a paycheck and that’s all that matters to them. The guys who work for Bertie are happy to have a place and a job.” She drained the rest of her beer and reached into the cooler for another. “I heard that when the Waverlys came here they just took over, everything. Changed everything. You gotta know,” she continued after a sip, “it wasn’t always like it is now. A long, long time ago this was a respectable place. When they first came here they were still married, her and him. They lived together in the apartment upstairs. But then, he had a chance to get hold of the House.”

  “She didn’t move into it with him?”

  “No. There’s always been something wrong with the House, and I think Mrs. knew it, or felt it. She feels a lot, you know.”

  I nodded. “I do feel that – feel it myself.”

  She took another draw of beer. “Mr. Waverly knew that lawyer friend of his for a long time, even before he took over the Junction. The Waverlys had a house in the city before they came here, too. Mr. Tony used to do regular legal work for them, I heard.” She munched thoughtfully on some chips.

  “Things around the Junction began to feel different,” she continued. “After Mr. Waverly moved into the House, Mr. Tony came and stayed with him a lot. He’s not married, y’know. Heard his wife died.” Her second beer was half gone. “This must have been, maybe four or five years ago. Then talk started going around that Mr. and Mrs. were getting a divorce. And Mr. Tony was handling it.” She stopped talking to watch the children, who had wandered a little further. I finished my beer and retrieved another from the cooler.

  “So – that went pretty fast. Talk was that Mrs. gave him anything he wanted just to get out of it. I think you know, even though you haven’t been here very long, that the Junction makes a lot of money?”

  I laughed, thinking of the daily receipts I took in. “Yeah, I’d say so!”

  “Yeah. Well, the Waverlys get a large cut of that for sticking it out here in the middle of nowhere and keeping things running smoothly, y’know? Anyhow, like I said, as long as there’s cash coming in and some of it going back east to that place who owns us, nobody really cares about much else.” She ate a few more chips and had another sip. “So – like I said, now he’s in the House, Mr. Tony hanging around all the time, she’s in the apartment. Life goes on for the rest of us. I think, that year, we all even got a raise.”

  She stood up from the table and stretched, and felt in her jeans pocket for the scrunchie she pulled out. She wound her long black hair into a knot at the back of her head and secured it with the tie. “There, that’s better. Gettin’ a little warm.” She sat back down on the bench. “Pretty soon, those two guys Manny and Rafe start hanging around, mostly at the House. We’d see them sometimes in the restaurant. That Rafe really makes me feel creepy.”

  “I guess I have not met them yet,” I said.

  “You know the van?” I nodded. “Manny drives the van all the time.”

  “Oh.” I nodded.

  She continued. “So then, not too much longer and one day Mr. Waverly calls a meeting after work for all of us who are in the gift shop side. And guess what, he fucking fires almost all the girls!”

  “What!” I cried.

  “Yeah,” she said. “The girls were locals, chica. And not always good girls, either. Some stealing, some never showing up when they were scheduled, that kind of stuff. Anyhow, he fires them one day and the couple of us who were left – me and the manager, mostly – we’re wondering what the hell we’re going to do. Another beer?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay. So, the very next day, me and him open up in the morning, and guess what – Mr. Waverly shows up, that stinking van pulls up in the front, and three or four new chicas come inside. The Mr. says that we have to show them what to do, cause they are the new workers.” She sighed deeply.

  “Damn,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Oh wait – here’s the good part. Those girls turn out to all be pregnant – a couple of them can’t stay out of the bathroom long enough to make a sale, puking all morning, yeah.” She nodded in emphasis. “Puking up their guts. I’m standing around, thinking what the fuck, while they are puking.”

  I shook my head as I reached into the cooler.

  “Yeah. And then – you won’t fucking believe this – more girls come in a little while. The first ones that came start their bellies growning out, then the next ones are pregnant too, until before you know it we got about ten or twelve of them bitches, all pregnant, and no one else for working in the shop.”

  I sat up and stretched. The pit of my stomach ached as I listened to her story. “And it’s still like that, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Been like that ever since. The girls come, and the girls go. I never see any of them again after they have the babies. None of the girls ever talk about their homes, except for sometimes they say they have family up here with them or back in Mexico. They don’t even say which towns they come from. I hear stuff, but I don’t know about it. I see that Mr. Tony around some of the time, and then that Manny is around all of the time – but I see him treat the girls with respect. He seems like he looks after them. Never bothers the rest of us, just says good morning or whatever.”

  I thought about the housing at the Junction. There was the row we lived in, which was filled with the gay guys, two to a room, except for the ones Donna and I lived in. There were a couple of regular houses, small ones, off to themselves – but I’d been told that the gas station managers lived in them. The ladies I worked with in the office were locals, and I knew that the few kids who worked in the convenience stores were also locals and drove in each day. There were two other nicer house trailers, kind of set off to themselves from our area, that were home to Bertie the restaurant manager, and another unknown. “So - where do the girls live? I haven’t seen cars for them, just seen them driving around in the van.”

  “The girls live up at the House.” Donna pressed her lips together tightly.

  My stomach sunk, unpleasantly. “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. Mr. Waverly lives up there, his housekeeper Guadalupe who you will never see in the Junction, and the girls. I’ve counted that as many as twelve must be up there.”

  I sighed and stared at my friend. She looked me in the eye and then away.

  “Well,” she declared. “I don’t wanna talk about this shit any MORE today. Let’s see what happened to the kids.” We got up from our seats and walked down to our children. I felt relieved that the conversation had ended.

  Later after lunch, the kids had tired of playing with rocks and water. They’d investigated all of the other pavilions, which were deserted. They’d checked the steel drum trash cans, found several nice sized pieces of cholla for sticks they could use as crutches, and then came to us and announced they were all hungry. I dumped the small bag of charcoal we’d brought with us into the grill at our site, and since it was the kind where you just ignite the bag, Donna fished though her purse for a lighter. I lit the end of the paper charcoal sack and we watched it flare up and then toast the briquets.

  Donna had brought along several old wire hangers, and she helped the kids unwind them and fashion them into tools on which to cook the hot dogs. They had great fun skewering the wienies, and when the charcoal was ready they jostled each other for the perfect cooking position. Donna and I laughed as they cooked for us – the first one Bry made me was a little cold in the middle, but I lathered it with ketc
hup and ate it anyway. He wanted mustard on his, and a little cheese. We all ate until there was no more to cook, and the girls took their wires over to the trash can.

  Donna and I were putting away the condiments and closing up the bags of chips. The girls were fishing though the cooler for another soda. Bry still had his coat hanger, and was poking around in what was left of the coals in the grill.

  He wasn’t any more than three feet away from me, and when he screamed I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  In poking through the briquets, a small one that had plenty of fire left in it had flipped out of the grill and landed right on top of his foot, just above the tongue of his tennis shoe. It immediately burned him, badly. Third degree in an instant.

  I dropped what I was doing – we all rushed to him. I snatched him up and shook him so that the live coal fell from his foot. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, and I held him on my lap while Donna bent down and pulled off his shoe. The coal had burned right through his cotton sock, and left a huge red hole in his skin. I stroked his little head and tried to comfort him.

  Donna looked up and cried, “Jessie, get me a paper towel and put ice in it from the cooler. Julie, throw the stuff in the car. Andale!” The girls rushed to meet her command.

  She stood up and looked at me. “Chica, this is very bad. We gotta get him back to the Junction right away. There’s a doctor there.”

  “A doctor?”

  “Si, chica. The one who takes care of the girls.”

  I carried Bry to the car, and he sat cradled in my lap on the ride home. He’d calmed down a lot – I was proud of him for being so stoic – but I had seen the burn and cringed when I thought of it. I’d peeled off his other shoe and sock and he tried to keep the ice on the injury as much as possible while Donna drove. From the back seat, the girls tried teasing him to make him laugh, and take his mind off his problem.

  Donna drove as fast as the old road and her aging car would allow, and we did make it back to the Junction faster than we left. She drove around the far side of the restaurant and headed right past our own rooms, pulling up in front of one of the newer mobile homes – the one I was unfamiliar with. She jumped out, and ran up on the small front porch and banged on the door. Jessie and Julie jumped out of the back seat and came around to help me get Bry out of the car. I carried him to the porch about the time someone answered the door.

  “Auggie,” cried Donna, “you gotta help us. This little one got a terrible burn on his foot.”

  A very large man I’d not seen before came out of the door and looked at me, and then looked down at Bry and his wound. “Oh dear,” he said, “please come inside. Let me have a look at it.”

  Donna followed Auggie inside, and I carried my son. The doctor indicated the sofa saying, “Please, sit down. I’ll be right back.” He went through a door that I assumed must have fronted a bedroom, and we could hear him rummaging around. He returned quickly with a bottle of cleansing antiseptic and a stack of guaze.

  He kneeled before Bry and me. “Well, now. What’s your name?” he asked my son.

  Bry sniffled a little. “Bryan Brown.”

  “Well, Bryan Brown, my name is Doctor Blackburn, but everyone calls me Auggie. I’m going to fix this right up for you. Would that be okay?” Bry nodded his head. “Okay. The first thing we get to do, though, is take a pair of scissors and cut off the rest of your sock – it’s got a hole in it anyhow, now, so that makes it no good.” He smiled at Bry, who nodded more vigorously. “Donna, love, would you fetch me a large bowl from the kitchen?”

  Auggie snapped on a pair of blue gloves, took his scissors and gently cut the rest of the sock from Bry’s foot. Donna brought him a large stainless steel pan. “Thank you, love. Now, Bryan Brown, I’m going to dribble this over your foot, and it’s going to feel very cold. Can you tell me what you were doing when this happened?” He began pouring the antiseptic and Bry stiffened in my arms but did not cry.

  Bry sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm. “We were cooking hot dogs.”

  “Very well then,” said Auggie. “I need to wash your foot to make sure there aren’t any hot dogs stuck in it.” Bry giggled, and I smiled.

  The doctor gently poured the rest of the contents of the bottle over the wound. I hugged Bry tightly as he stiffened a couple of times more. “There now. No more wienies.” Bry giggled again. Auggie glanced up at me. “I do have a wonderful salve that I swear by, to put on this, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” I answered. Auggie stood up, towering. “I’ll fetch it.” He went back into the bedroom. Donna and the girls hovered around us, making caring little noises and comments.

  The big man returned with a small blue jar, and knelt back down in front of us. “This is going to feel very cold, too, Bryan Brown. Can you be a big tough guy?”

  I felt Bry rise to his full stature and then some. “Sure. I can take it.”

  Auggie chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Here goes.” He tenderly touched the salve from his fingers to the wound. Bry cringed, but held fast to me. “Wonderful.” He patted Bry’s knee. “We’re almost done here, but I’m going to cover this with a nice, big bandage. Give you something to show the ladies, eh?” Bryan giggled again, both at the bandage and the reference to girls.

  The doctor gently secured several layers of gauze over the wound with medical tape. He rose up with a little groan and declared, “Bryan Brown, I pronounce you cured.” I let Bry slip from my lap and he stood up on the doctor’s carpet.

  “Feels pretty good. Can I walk on it?”

  “Oh yes – but your mom will have to find you something else to put on your feet besides tennis shoes until you heal up.”

  Julie spoke up. “I think I’ve got something that would work – we wear about the same size.”

  “Excellent!” pronounced Auggie. “The patient is saved!” We all laughed at his big voice booming through the trailer.

  Donna put her hand on the big man’s arm. “Thanks, Auggie. I’m so glad you were here.”

  He smiled. “You’re most welcome, Donna. How have you and the girls been?”

  “Pretty good. School’s going well. Other than that, same old.”

  I stood up and offered the doctor my handshake. “I’m Bryan’s mother, Maddy Brown. I can’t thank you enough.” The big man took my hand, and as we connected our eyes met. Immediately my heart lifted, my brain light.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you, Maddy. Is that short for something longer?”

  I felt myself blush – something that had become an unfamiliar sensation. “Madeleine.” He continued to hold on to my hand.

  Donna said, “She’s been here about three weeks, Auggie. Works for Evelyn in the office.”

  He continued to hold my hands and eyes. “Wonderful. I didn’t think I’d seen her before.”

  I reluctantly parted my hand from his. “Can I pay you for helping us?”

  He laughed, a rich and hearty sound bouncing off his walls. “Lord, no. It is my pleasure.” He looked down at Bry. “However, young Bryan, you and your mother must come back to see me every day for a week, so I can change that bandage for you. You’ll see to it, won’t you?”

  Bry stood as tall as he could. “Yes sir, I sure will.”

  Donna and the girls said goodbye to the doctor and headed out to the car. Bryan limped a little as he followed. I felt the big man touch my arm as I turned to leave. “Madeleine?”

  I paused, smiling in spite of myself. I couldn’t help it. His eyes were so very blue and kind. “Yes?”

  “Please, bring Bryan back each day, really. That truly is a nasty burn and we must keep it very clean and be vigilant with it.” He offered me his hand again and I took it. It was warm, so strong, so masculine. My knees felt a bit weak.

  “I will. Can I bring him over as soon as he gets off the school bus – it is okay for him to go to school with it, isn’t it?”

  He continued to hold my hand. “Yes, certainly. I recommend sending a note to his teacher – let
me know if I can help there – excusing him from recess. Keep it clean and absolutely dry. Don’t let him wash it in the shower for now, you know.”

  I took away my hand, again against my own will. “Sure. Well, we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Thank you so much again.” I nearly tripped going down his porch steps. Grace. I watched him watch us as we backed out of his drive.

  Donna parked in front of our rooms; the girls got out and started carrying the picnic things into their room as I walked Bry into ours. Donna asked me, “So, that’s Auggie. What’cha think?”

  I failed to disguise my feelings with her. She laughed at me as she turned away and headed to her own home.

  12

  Tony Lozano owned a gorgeous, very expensive home in the city. He viewed commuting with great disdain, and converted his den into a sumptuous office space. Single – widowed – Tony had come from rather humble beginnings, and he was delighted to afford a highly rated interior designer and decorator to fashion his life. His several years’ association with the Waverlys had raised his standard of living substantially and he worked long hours to make certain his current run of luck would continue.

  Lozano was a master of the Internet, and a superlative marketer. Conveniently he possessed very few scruples. Moral fiber was not found in his diet. He was a man of his times, surfing the web like a Beach Boy, playing one against another for profit. He derived absolute satisfaction from his efforts and was proud to call himself a workaholic. His bank balances reflected his efforts.

  Waverly had been in touch. It was time for him to shine forth once more with his dog and pony show.

  He’d dismissed his housekeeper for the evening. He smiled when his front door chimed at precisely the chosen hour of six o’clock, and as he rose from his leather desk chair he straightened his tie and dusted a bit of cigarette ash from his jacket.

  The leaded glass of the front double doors revealed two figures behind them as stippled reflections. Tony grasped the door handle and cleared his throat. He swung the door back. “Good evening, gentlemen! I’m so delighted to meet you in person. Please come in, and welcome!”