He reconstructed the first box and pulled clothes out of the closet. He was tempted to shove everything in as fast as he could but he needed to use care to make it fit in a single car-load. What had Ester said about this place…kinda sad?
He rolled his clothes into tight bundles. When he'd moved in, the pared down approach seemed advantageous. Now, all he could think about was Ester's look of pity when he told her how easy it would be to move out.
No matter how great their thing was, this ending was inevitable. Ester was never going to end up with a guy like him. She thought he was okay now, but it was only a matter of time before she realized how little he had to offer.
He checked the time. He needed to call his mom and tell her what was going on but hadn't figured out what to say. She would be crushed to learn he dropped out. He'd done his best, and this was how it ended. Any ideas for the future were drowned in the thought of everything he was running out on. His lease wasn't up until summer. Jess would be left without his most reliable mover. Frenzy's would need a new bouncer. Plus, quitting school now meant he was giving up the classes that he was actually passing.
He filled the box in front of him, then pushed it aside and assembled another.
He spotted a scrap of black fabric balled up on the floor and grabbed it and shook it out. A pair of Ester's panties. Any other woman and he would assume she'd left them on purpose, but not Ester. Now she had one less set of matching underwear.
He paused with them in his hand, not sure what to do. He couldn't throw them in the trash. Tossing them in the laundry didn't make sense. He threw them on the bed; he would figure it out later.
He was shoving things into box number three, when his phone rang. There was no one he wanted to talk to, and it was too late in the day for a moving job. It was a surprise to see Arnie's name on the display.
"This is Theo."
"Bad time?" Arnie said.
It's all bad time, Theo wanted to say but instead he said, "Not really. What do you need?"
"I'm in a pinch. It's not a great job, but the pay is good."
Theo had no interest, but he asked anyway, "What is it?"
"I need an intern coordinator."
Theo tried to imagine what an intern coordinator might do and what skills Arnie thought he had that would lead him to call. "You called me?"
"You did great with the other work. It's National Association of Tribal Governments. It's a great networking opportunity for you," Arnie said.
It was like Theo had stumbled into someone else's conversation. Arnie had the wrong idea if he thought Theo was a guy with something to network about.
The unpacked boxes leaned against the bed, ready to be filled and loaded into the car. "I can't—"
"The timing is terrible, I know. You've got school and all your jobs. It's enough money to cover some of your jobs. It'll be a time sink during the conference but we can accommodate for school as needed. School is the priority."
Those were Ester's words. School is the most important thing. When she'd said it, he'd taken it like she was scolding him. When Arnie said it, it was a bitter reminder of what people expected from him.
"I appreciate the thought but I wouldn't have the first idea how to—"
"You think I know what I'm doing?" Arnie laughed. "I've been faking it for over a decade. Common sense and confident words can take you far. There's an intern meeting tomorrow night. I'll text you the details. All you need to do is show up."
"You're not going to let me say no," Theo said without humor.
Arnie laughed again. "I'm not. See you then."
Theo stacked the packed boxes against the wall and put the unassembled boxes back behind the dresser. Arnie bought him some time to figure out what to say to his mom. Maybe he could make some calls about job training so he would be set up when he got there.
His books still sat on the kitchen table. In his head he'd already given up on school, but now that he was going to be in town, might as well finish the quarter.
30
Ester rode her bike in a slow circle around the neighborhood, regretting her decision to take off. The sky had grown dark and she had no money for a motel. She didn't want to bother Rayanne, and Margie would give her a place to stay but Ester wasn't in the mood for explaining. She thought about hanging out at a coffee shop all night. She could worry about the rest later, except she didn't want to be in a coffee shop. Elder lunch had produced some great film clips and she wanted to work on her film. She rode to the office. Campus was deserted for the night. She spotted two people on the path from the library but otherwise it was quiet.
Once inside, the florescent lights glared bright at the late hour. While her computer booted up, she considered making coffee but didn't want to keep herself up all night. Instead, she heated a pot of water. Linda always kept tea in her desk and she searched around until she found a packet of something fruity that said no caffeine.
She glanced at her phone. She and Theo had gotten into the habit of talking on Sunday nights. He would call and tell her about his rides and how much homework he'd caught up with. She would tell him the latest on MacKenzie or talk about her progress with her film.
"I am not thinking about him," she said. Her voice sounded small and shaky in the empty room. The phone battery had dwindled, so she dug into her backpack for her charger. Instead she found the thumb drive Theo had given her. He’d never told her what was on it. She stuck it in her computer and found an audio file.
Her finger hovered over the mouse button. She wasn't certain she wanted to hear it, whatever it was. What kind of sound file would Theo give her? She left it on the desktop and opened her film project. If only the computer lab were open at night, it was so much easier to work on the better equipment. She fussed with new clips from lunch, uncertain about length and the best places to cut. Theo always had good feedback when she needed a fresh pair of eyes.
"Don't think about him," she said, saying the words out loud to solidify her determination.
She added the new clips to the work in progress, weaving comments Linda had made about the center with images of the elders. She waited for long stretches while the software ground away on the old computer. She talked herself through the process, explaining her choices and acting like it was normal to be at the office late Sunday night with nowhere to go and no one to talk to.
When she could no longer resist it, she clicked on the file Theo had given her.
"I did a couple of versions to give you some ideas," Theo said on the recording. Then, with a different inflection, he began:
Community. Family. Tribe. Home.
Everyone wants a place to belong.
We gather for support, culture and identity, finding comfort in a place filled with our own.
A single tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away. He'd taken her description of the project and arranged the words into a story. His warm and familiar voice was reassuring as he talked about the center and all the things they wanted to do.
She listened to both versions before bringing her film back up, her eyes glued to the work. She broke down each step down, and reviewed each cut and effect. It was tough to resist the urge to listen to his voice again.
The office door rattled with a key. She practically jumped out of her seat. Tommy stood at the door.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his expression troubled.
"What are you doing here?"
Tommy shook his head. "I asked you first."
She started to make a joke and say, Problems at home, except the words choked at the back of her throat, so she shrugged and made a pointed look at the computer as if that would answer his question.
"Do you need a ride home?"
The image of MacKenzie rooting around in her closet and drawers made her stomach flip. She shook her head. She mustered every bit of calm and sincerity she had in her. "I'm fine."
"Is there someplace else you would rather go?"
Ester nodded and then the tears c
ame. "Sorry," she said, trying to hold back.
Tommy came over and touched her arm. He wasn't usually demonstrative and her heart was wound up so tight, this gesture of tenderness took her by surprise. She sobbed for real. "Sorry," she repeated.
"It's okay," Tommy said. He patted her on the back with the awkward sort of pats that you'd get if you burst into tears in front of a doctor or a UPS driver.
She gulped a few times and calmed herself. "I know you hate dealing with this."
"Not true. I grew up in a family of alcoholics. This is nothing. You're coming with me." Ester was too upset to object. She saved her project, and they sat there while the computer creaked and hummed.
"It's slow," Ester said, wiping her hands over her face.
"I know how it feels," Tommy said.
He waited for her to pack up, then he led her to a beat-up Toyota with the back crunched in.
"Did a giant truck use you to stop?" she asked. Her throat hurt and she ached with exhaustion, but she already felt better now that she was with someone she trusted.
"Something like that," Tommy said. "The trunk won't open so put your bag in the back seat."
"I always picture you driving the bus now," Ester said, once inside. The car smelled like old coffee but it wasn't messy.
"I love the bus, but the fuel gets expensive," Tommy said. He turned the radio to something quiet and Ester relaxed. Tommy didn't ask any questions. Friendships that didn't require a lot of talking were underrated.
Tommy lived in a shabby duplex just off a busy street. Inside, he sat her on the couch and gave her a fleece blanket with a cartoon character on it. He returned from the kitchen with a glass of apple juice. "Do we need—?" He pretended to dab at his eyes.
"Are we talking now?"
"Only if you want to." He set a box of tissues on the arm of the couch.
"What's at the office late on a Sunday night?" Ester asked. She'd still never told anyone about seeing him on the spy cam.
Somewhere in the apartment a door opened, accompanied by a sound like weeping.
"That's why," Tommy said. "My cousin."
"I had no idea you lived with anyone."
Tommy ran his hand through his hair. "I don't."
A creaky voice came from the other room. "Do you have a friend over?"
"Excuse me," Tommy said, rising from his seat. Two hushed voices came from the hallway but she couldn't make out what they said. The other voice rose in distress but eventually quieted again.
When he returned, Ester said, "Is everything okay?"
Tommy sighed. "I'd like to keep this private."
"Who would I tell?" Ester said.
"Work. Everyone would be supportive but I want to keep it to myself," Tommy said.
"Keep what to yourself?"
"Tommy's halfway house," He tried to sound upbeat as he swept his arm around the room. "I shouldn't joke. Not long ago my uncle wanted to sober up, and since I've been successful, Mom suggested he stay with me. She doesn't understand why that's a terrible idea. Sobriety is more than not drinking. But, surprise, he succeeded, so then he sent his daughter. Her case is a little more serious. Sometimes, when I need to be alone, I go to the office and watch movies on the computer."
"Isn't it good, you're helping people?"
"Do you want to be the sober house for your family?"
"I guess not," she said, trying to reconcile this Tommy—serious and responsible—with the guy who had carved out a job where his main duties included playing basketball and driving a bus.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"I got proof Dennis's girlfriend steals from me; our dumb job—what are we even accomplishing?—and now it's show-time with Arnie and Professor Stone's movie like that's going to save us; I'm always stressed about money; oh, and I got mad at Theo and he broke up with me." She choked back a sob.
"It's okay not to be fine, Ester."
"It's exhausting."
A quiet moment passed. Tommy's apartment was surprisingly normal. He had a big TV and a gaming console. A tall bookcase with a full shelf of Tony Hillerman in hardcover stood in one corner. Another shelf bowed under the weight of giant cookbooks.
"Those all yours?" she asked.
Tommy's gaze followed hers. "Yeah."
"All this time I pictured you living in a tree house or a secret bunker. Something mysterious."
Tommy smiled. "Keep thinking that."
"How did you do it? Quit alcohol. You were so young."
Tommy fiddled with his sleeves, pushing them up to the elbow and then pulling them back down again. The cuffs were stretched out like bell-bottom pants. "It's hard to explain," he said. "If it was easy to change, to quit, to stop destroying yourself, people would do it. But that's how it happens. You get to the point where you decide. You decide to ask for help. You decide not to fight the help you think you don't want. You decide you're tired of feeling miserable and disappointed in yourself. Yeah, I was young but I could see my future and I didn't want it. So I did one thing, then I did the next thing. Parts of it were miserable."
"You decided. You don't have a box of magic here somewhere?"
"I do," Tommy said. He left the room, and when he returned, he presented her with a closed fist.
"Nothing alive?"
"No," Tommy said. He opened his hand to reveal a smooth gray stone. "This is a sacred rock of my people. It will give you whatever you want. Well, in the realistic realm of the world you live in and the problems you have to solve."
"That's quite a qualification for a magic rock," she said, taking it from him.
"It's not magic, it's sacred." Tommy sat back down.
"You're making this up," Ester said.
Tommy shrugged. "Talk to the rock and see what happens."
"I am. For science." Ester yawned so hard it hurt her face. "I'm sleepy."
"Me, too. I want you to sleep in my bed," Tommy said. "Lock the door."
Ester couldn't hide her alarm.
"She won't hurt you but she might come in and try to talk to you. She has trouble sleeping. If I stay out here on the couch, she's more likely to pester me."
"When we joke about how mysterious you are, I envisioned it as being something more fun," she said. "Thanks for rescuing me."
When she got to his room, she set the rock on his bureau and told it, "More courage. For all of us."
31
Theo hiked through the conference center, searching for “Manzanita.” The rooms didn't have numbers, they had names like Cedar and Ponderosa, which didn't help when everything was beige walls and brown doors. As soon as he found Arnie he was out of there. Arnie would just have to deal with it. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous the proposal sounded. He had no idea how to coordinate people, especially for a big event. It was better to show up as a grunt worker and follow instructions while the rest of it was up to someone else. Arnie needed to find someone better suited for the job.
He rode down an escalator and walked under a banner welcoming people to a convention for the flooring industry. A hand-lettered sign that said “NATG,” directed him down another hallway.
Ester would have made a joke about the Ind'ns being an afterthought stuck into the worst corner of the events center. He couldn't stop thinking about Ester. Something that great shouldn't have ended so badly, but dealing with disappointing people was wearing him down to nothing. He still hadn't told his folks or his grandma he was leaving school. Ester was supposed to be his refuge, not another person to let down. She'd said the words: she didn't want him. It was best to leave it alone.
He should probably talk to Professor Stone, too. For what it was worth, she was right. She had given him a chance. Lots of chances. It wasn't her fault his situation was so precarious. That was his own decision.
"Theo!" Arnie's shout echoed down the corridor. He struggled through a heavy door with a crummy hand truck, one arm looped around a stack of boxes that wanted to slide off. Theo ran over and grabbed the door un
til Arnie pushed the cart through.
"These things come out of the factory half-broken." Arnie kicked the wheels with the toe of his boot.
"It's overloaded," Theo said, picking up the top box and hoisting it onto his shoulder.
"Story of my life." Arnie reset the rest of the boxes and pointed ahead. "I'm glad you're here. I forgot how squirrelly college kids are. You get a half dozen in a room and their hormones go ballistic."
"I'm a college student," he said automatically. Soon that wouldn't be true.
"You don't have a squirrelly bone in your body," Arnie said. "You're going to be the one to reel them in."
"I wanted to ask you about that," Theo said.
"One sec," Arnie said. He nodded at another door. Theo held it open while Arnie pushed the cart. Inside, four young men and five young women waited. Once again, Theo found himself in a room full of Indians. He set the box down on the table.
Arnie said, "You all have better things to do, so we'll make this quick. Theo, these are nieces, nephews and friends from the rez. Guys, this is Theo. He's the one in charge of wrangling you. Introduce yourselves later. You all are the latest in a long history of successful interns who began their careers making packets." Arnie gestured to the stacked boxes. "One of each item per folder. Put the finished folders in the empty boxes. Start now, while I talk. Tomorrow morning there will be more people to help finish them up."
Arnie searched his pockets with growing frustration. Theo reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, which he held up with a questioning eyebrow.
"That's it," Arnie said. "I must have left mine somewhere."
Theo set two tables end-to-end and then cut open each box and lined up the conference materials on either side, assembly-line style. It didn't take long to catch on to what Arnie meant. The guys sized him up one way and the women in another. The ladies elbowed each other until one of them went to great pains to catch his eye. This was Arnie's family. Theo made a point of returning his most paternal smile and gestured they should come up and get started. They assembled packets while Arnie talked about the days ahead.
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