Years ago (2008 to be exact) Lil Jay started a thread for fragments (
viewtopic.php?f=29&t=35872 ). My fragment has grown since then and here it is:
Diego had been waiting for hours. This was not unusual. Diego spent a lot of time waiting. For rides to the grocery and liquor store. For contractors to decide that they needed one more worker. For his wife to come home. This time he was sure it would be different. The message was clear. Be at the big rock at the top of the hill. Be there at 11:00 AM. He had nothing else to do, so he got to the big rock at just after daybreak. He had no watch, so he thought earlier was better than later and he could wait here as well as at home. The empty home that he now shared with no one. Barely a home. More like a place with a cot and a chair and table and a fireplace and a small propane stove and a faded red metal cooler that rarely had ice in it. The room that he had shared with his wife and the room that had belonged to his son he had closed off so there was less space to heat. He had left the rooms just as they had left them. Clothes neatly put away, except the few they took with them. Tidy beds made up with worn patchworks quilts. Now dried flowers in a mason jar on the dresser. Rusty toy cars with no paint lined up on the windowsill. He went in to empty the mouse traps and sweep the dead flies up off the floor. But he never looked around. Just kept his eyes on the floor and his broom and the small deaths. There was one time he looked up and caught himself peering out of the mirror above the dresser. It was his father’s eyes that looked at him. Tired and angry and a little crazy. It had scared him. Now he kept his eyes down.
Diego sits in the shade of the rock and waits. The handwritten note had not given a name, but it did not need to. He recognized the handwriting. Anyone would have. It appeared on enough checks in the county that everyone was familiar with the scrawl. The question was what did he want with Diego. Diego was not popular or dependable or wanted. It could even be said he was disposable. Of course, it had not always been so. But the past didn’t matter. What mattered, with the heat rising, and the lizards skittering past and the ghosts behind him at all times, was the present.
A vehicle came bouncing up the dusty track. Diego knew it was not the one he was waiting for, so he ducked his head and pulled his hat farther down over his eyes. However, he was not surprised when the car slowed and stopped.
“Diego!” said a voice, deep and strong enough to compete successfully with the full blast Mexican rap erupting from the battered pick-up. Diego tipped his head back.
“Manuel.” he acknowledged.
“You going somewhere? Need a ride?” Manuel called.
“Nah. I’m waiting.”
“OK, man. Gonna get hot soon, though.” Manuel stated the obvious with great authority. The truck slowly pulled away. Diego was touched by Manuel’s consideration in not raising more dust than necessary.
Ah, said Diego to himself. I should have asked the time. Manuel always knew what time it was. Manuel had a watch. He might even have a working clock in his truck. Diego had never noticed, not in all the times he had gotten lifts with Manuel. Time had not been important to him. It should not be important to him today, either, but it was. For the first time in a long time he had to be at a place at a certain time. The time was irrelevant, anyway. He would wait until it was no longer necessary to wait. But he wanted to know. Diego tipped his head up and squinted at the sun. He had not tried to tell time by the sun since he was young, walking to the dusty reservation school, or walking home in the evening and gauging how much he could drag his feet without running into trouble from one of his aunts. In those days time stretched out in a long dusty road, the terminus obscured but intriguing. Somewhere along the way he had stopped carrying about what was over the next hill or around the bend and how long it was going to take to get there.
Another plume, this time to the south. That would be it, he was sure. Yes, a black pickup. No one with any sense got a black pickup if they could help it. To hard to keep clean, too hard to keep cool. If you were up to no good, they were also too obvious. They stood out in the sere landscape like a black boil. Geraldo did not care about any of that. He had people, to clean and to do his dirty work. He had money some acknowledged, some not. He had influence, so his big black pickup got respect instead of eye rolls. Diego wasn’t sure he really wanted to meet that truck, but what the hell else did he have to do? He watched from under his hat as the truck approached. The tinted windows gave no clue as to who was driving and the dust would have obscured them anyway. The truck rolled to a stop and the throaty wasp-like hum of a power window filled Diego’s ears.
“Diego. Get in.”
“Yessir.”
Diego went around, heard the locks pop open. He knew the exposed chrome would be so hot it would burn, so he pulled his sleeve over his hand before pulling the door open, carefully touching no metal surfaces. A truck like this always made him feel short and small, like a child climbing into the back seat of the station wagon. The step helped, but he still felt like he was scaling a hill. Geraldo had that look, half amused, half false concern.
“I should have opened the door from the inside, but it is a far reach, even for me.” Geraldo was tall and rangy, more cowboy than Pueblo. Diego grunted neutrally and sat on the black leather seat, feeling a little dizzy and disoriented from looking down on the road. His feet barely touched the black carpeted floor. Not caring that Geraldo was not wearing his seatbelt, Diego reached over and pulled the belt over his lap and adjusted it. Geraldo half laughed and pulled his own seat belt on.
“See, this is why I wanted to talk to you, Diego. You are a good man. Decent, responsible at your heart. You have been sidetracked. I want to get you back on track. I need your help.” For a second Geraldo’s polished exterior cracked a bit, but quickly healed without a trace. Geraldo looked forward and stepped on the accelerator.
“I know you can talk to them.” Geraldo’s voice was flat.
Diego stared. He blinked. He was not sure if he wanted to laugh, vomit, throw himself out of the truck or attack Geraldo. All of the options flashed through his brain in the time it took him to blink and turn his head. “Yes.” he said. “I can.”
Talking ran in the family. His father could. His father’s father. And so on back to the crossing, most likely. Or maybe even before, if there had been gods on the steppes. Mostly it was men, but not always. Every generation had a talker and a talker in training. It tended to run in families. Diego was sure that his son would be a talker. He was also sure he would not be trained. It seemed that the talking was ending, after many thousands of years. The gods had become mad. The gods were angry. The gods were lonely. The gods were vengeful. The gods were jealous and envious. The gods had taken everything away from him and left him empty. And still they talked to him. And he could not help but listen. But he would not talk back.
Diego said “I can. But I won’t.”
Geraldo didn’t move, but the air thickened. He stepped on the accelerator just a bit more firmly and the truck bounced roughly on the rutted road. It was hard to have a conversation when the wind kept getting jostled out of you. Diego was just as happy to be silent.
Then the dusty track crossed a paved road. And turned left. Diego knew where they were going. It was exactly where he would go, if he could have whatever he wanted. A blur was on the horizon, but it was nearly half an hour before it resolved into a town and until the town became houses and businesses and life. In the center of the town was a diner. And in the center of the diner was Maria. He knew she would be there. He knew that as surely as he took breath. The gods whispered at him, taunted, teased, mocked. Yes, she would be there, her hair pulled back into a simple braid, the blue uniform snug across her hips and loose around her waist. Her brown eyes soft and caring.
Geraldo pulled into the dusty parking lot and waited a second for the dust to die down before he opened the door. Diego followed him into the diner. There was no point in putting it off, the result would be the same. He would go in. Maria would look past him as though he was not there. For her, he was not there. The gods were cruel.
Geraldo sat in the booth farthest to the back and Diego sat across from him. Maria came up with one menu, one coffee cup and a pot. She put the menu in front of Geraldo, filled the cup and left.
Geraldo was a little puzzled. “She knows what I order, I guess.”
Diego said “She does not see me.” Geraldo stared at him. “She does not see me.” Diego repeated.
“What do you mean ‘She does not see me.’ ?”
“She does not see me.”
“She is ignoring you?”
“No.”
“My god. What do you mean?”
“She does not see me.” Diego examined his hands, the creases and cracks and ground in dirt. He was suddenly glad she couldn’t see him. “Do you have one of those ear things? The tooth thing? The phone?”
Geraldo looked confused, then his face cleared. “Ah, Bluetooth. Yes. Why?”
“Put it on. That way you won’t look crazy. You won’t look like you are talking to yourself.”
Geraldo shook his head and decided to humor Diego. He pulled the earpiece from his front pocket and put it on. “OK. Now I don’t look crazy.” He snorted.
“She CAN’T see me. And neither can anyone else. For about 120 feet around her. I tested it. Billy Two Buffalo helped me. Of course Billy didn’t remember anything the next day, which worked out fine with me. He did spend the rest of that day thinking I was dead, though. I felt bad about that. Even knowing he wouldn’t remember, that sort of thing stays with you. He has looked at me funny since then.” Billy Two Buffalo had either fallen on a rock or been kicked in the head when he was a teenager, depending on who was telling the story. His memory could now hold about a day’s worth of memories before resetting. He was forever a teenaged boy, in the body of a steadily aging man. He could ride, rope, make change, make scrambled eggs and coffee. He could not remember to recharge a cell phone, use a computer or aim the satellite dish.
Geraldo stared at Diego. “The gods? Why would they do that?”
“I spoke to them. I told them things they did not want to hear. They knew it was true, but they did not want it to be. It had to be someone’s fault. My fault. And I couldn’t fix it, or them.”
Maria came up to the table with her pad, even though she didn’t need it. “Ready to order?”
“Cheeseburger, fries, coleslaw.” Geraldo looked at Diego. “I have a friend coming and I would like to order for him, too.” Geraldo looked into the distance and asked the air “I am ordering, what do you want?” Diego half smiled. “Anything?” Geraldo told the air “You can have anything you want. My treat.”
Diego did not have to think. “I want a steak. With onions, extra brown. A double order of fries and a salad. Ranch dressing. Ice tea.”
Geraldo repeated the order, Maria noted it down and left.
“I have to say, that is the weirdest thing I have ever seen.” Geraldo dumped sugar into his coffee and some ice cubes from his water glass. “What is going to happen when the food arrives? Will it disappear as it goes into your mouth? Will it float?”
“No. She just won’t look this way. And neither will anyone else. They won’t be able to focus their eyes on the place where I am, so their eyes just slide away. Oh, I am going to want pie and coffee for dessert.”
“Well, this is all very odd, but I have one more question for you. Why can I see you? I am within the magic 120 feet.”
This had not occurred to Diego. With Billy it had been different. An experiment. With Geraldo, he somehow knew that the magic would not affect him. And he suspected it had something to do with why Geraldo wanted to see him.
“I think we need to talk about why you wanted to see me.”
Geraldo grunted. “Yeah. My daughter is missing.”
Diego stared. “You don’t have a daughter.”
“Exactly. That is what everyone says. But I do. Angela. She is 5’5”, 125 lbs. She is 24 years old. I am the only person who remembers her. Her mother looks at me like I am crazy. Her brothers, born every two years, don’t wonder why there is 4 years between Emilio and Angus. Her friends pity me. But her clothes are in her room. Her photos are on the wall. I am the only one who can see them. I feel like I have one foot in the real world and one foot in a dream. A nightmare.”
Maria appeared laden with dishes. She looked mildly puzzled that Geraldo’s dining partner had not arrived yet, but placed the tea, salad and dressing in front of Diego anyway. “Steak will be right up. Should I have Cook hold it?”
“No”, said Geraldo as he prepared to tuck into his burger. “Bring it on out.”
Maria shrugged and went back behind the counter.
“How long has Angela been missing?”
“Two weeks. Three weeks on Monday. We were going to have lunch in town but she never showed. I am not exactly sure, I just know when I spoke to her last.”
“What makes you think I can help you?”
“Because of what she said. That she thought she was going crazy. That she was told she was replacing The Talker. That she was replacing you.” Geraldo looked down at his folded hands on the the table. Diego could tell that saying that had cost him. Geraldo was not a desert dweller. His face was pointed towards the city.
“Why can YOU remember her?”
“I tried to… shield her. To hide her. The gods knew. You can’t hide from them. And they tricked me, made me think she was safe. It was too late when I realized she was gone. But, maybe she isn’t gone. Maybe I just can’t find her. And no one else remembers…”
The steak arrived, hot, fragrant, the onions perfect. Maria looked at the plate a second longer than she should have, as though a thought had crossed her mind. Then she shivered a little and went back behind the counter to get the coffee pot.
Diego was rueful. “She knows she has forgotten something. She probably is remembering that this is my favorite meal.”
“Why would the gods take Angela? Why make everyone forget her? You talked to them, but they allowed you to have a life.” Geraldo had lowered his voice to a bare whisper. The gods might be in the next booth, or at the table next to the window. He knew that was foolish, but still had the strong need to be unheard by anyone but Diego.
“Until I defied them. Until I told them the truth. She may have told them the truth, too.”
“The truth.”
“They did not want to hear it. They can’t hear it. How would you like to hear of your end? And not a glorious end of fire and light, but a slow fading - a forgetting. The voice of the gods is being drowned out by static. The quiet place is full of noise. Full of distraction. Full of drugs that dull instead of enhance. The gods think the People have lost their way. They want the People to come back, but they can’t come back. They won’t.”
Diego had managed to plow through most of his steak and fries between sentences. He felt himself welcoming the food. Settling into the feast/famine place of his ancestors. He cleaned off the last few bites and finished off the salad. He was ready for pie. He wondered if he had room for two pieces.
Diego had managed a second piece of pie and Geraldo had covered for him. Maria must have wondered about the health of the diner who spent most of his meal in the bathroom, yet had a bottomless pit for a stomach.
“Geraldo, I appreciate your thinking of me, but I am not exactly sure how I can help you.” A third cup of coffee was hot between Diego’s hands.
“I want to take you to where I last say Angela. Maybe you will have some insight. It is all I can think of. Retracing my steps may bring me closer to her’s.”
“You tried to hide her. I can’t do that. There is no place the gods won’t go.”
“There is a place. Many places, actually. In plain sight, in a way. Are you finished?”
Diego was, but he was reluctant to leave this place. It was almost normal, being well fed, having Maria nearby, the hubbub of diners and dishes. “Yes, I am finished.”
The sun had slid a bit more towards the western horizon, enough to be uncomfortable if you were heading that way. Fortunately Geraldo headed south. And then, unfortunately, Diego got a knot in his stomach.
“The mission. You took her to the old mission.”
Geraldo was surprised. “Yes. It seemed logical. New gods to hide from the old.”
“It might have worked. But the old mission… sacred places line up. New ones are placed on old ones. And the mission is on a very old one placed on an even older one. The gods live closely there and there are no secrets between them. It would have been better if you had taken her to the Baptist church next to the convenience store in the strip mall. They never would have seen her and she would have had cold beer. And internet.”
Geraldo’s skin felt icy and the burger churned inside him. Why had he not realized that? He should have! He thought he was so clever. Not for the first time he wondered if it had even been his idea. Talkers ran in families. Perhaps his ideas and thoughts were not quite his own. Even talking to Diego! What insanity! The man was ostracized and no one even knew quite why. Something about his wife leaving or disappearing…
A coyote suddenly ran across the road and Geraldo slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid hitting it. He was glad Diego had put on his seatbelt, inspiring him to do the same. He had had a thought, though, and had lost it. Something about Diego and his wife, perhaps. It had been an odd experience eating with a man that was essentially invisible. He did not know how Diego stayed sane.
The mission appeared ahead, halfway up a low hill. A stream, currently dry, snaked between the hills. Joshua trees and cacti dotted the landscape. The mission was still used, but not every Sunday. Old timers liked to be buried on the hill and some liked to be married close to family, even if the family couldn’t attend. A glimmer of beads, a bottle of beer, plastic flowers and flags decorated some of the closer graves. The air was oppressive and still.
Geraldo and Diego sat for a moment as the truck clicked and whirred. The air conditioning started to wear off almost instantly and the air in the cab was suddenly thick. Simultaneously they opened the doors and slid out. It was so very quiet. No chitters or squacks or rustles from low animals. No people. No other cars. The door to the mission was not locked. Not surprising. The relics were more intangible than valuable. The cross was painted tin. The carved Jesus over the altar was a mass produced plaster version. The original carved Jesus and gold cross resided in the modern chapel in town. Despite the lack of storied artifacts, there was a feeling of peace, of serenity, of age, of ceremony interrupted. Diego could feel the impressions of all the feet that had walked the aisle and hear the shuffling of bodies. The smell of adobe was comfortable and familiar and the dry air was cooler than outside. A box sat in the corner.
“I left her with groceries, water, a sleeping bag. She had her car. None of it is here now. The box has more supplies, but she wasn’t here.”
Diego went to the box and opened it. “It’s empty. She is still here.” He sat on the floor, back to the dusty wall. He let his vision blur, his mind open to every sound and shifting shadow. The breeze brought a few bars of music, something lively and modern. Diego listened, trying to find the source without moving. A figure sat against the wall just at the corner of his eye.
“Angela?” Diego’s voice sounded, to his ear, as though the walls were right around him. The sound didn’t seem to carry, but a voice responded.
“Yes! You can see me?”
“Almost. Only if I don’t look at you. You are playing music?”
“Yes. I have some cds. Almost out of batteries, though.”
“Your father should have left you with a solar charger.” Diego grinned, despite himself, imagining what Geraldo was hearing. “The world has forgotten you. I have forgotten you, but your father remembers. He just can’t see you. What did you do to anger the gods?”
“I don’t know! I just told them I wanted to go to school. I don’t want to live in the desert and listen to them all day. I didn’t even really believe in them until they started chattering at me. All the time!!! I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t go out with my friends. They were driving me crazy! They wanted me to dance and drum and burn stuff. Geez!”
“I told them this. They did not believe me. I am sorry. This is my battle, not yours. I will talk to them. I will get you your life back. There is a price, but it is a small one. Maybe you can get your friends to help.”
“Anything! What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. The gods, though. They are lonely and afraid. They need to know they are not forgotten. You and your friends need to go out into the desert from time to time. You need to thank the stars and the moon and the coyote and the eagle. You need to burn some sage and some mesquite and dance in the light of the fire. Bring a drum. I can help you with that.”
“Okay. I will do it.”
“I am going outside now. I will talk to the gods of this place and we shall see what we can do.”
Diego stood and braced himself against the wall for a moment until the dizziness passed. He forced his eyes to focus. Geraldo looked concerned, hopeful, puzzled. Angela was still unseen, but he could just hear the music.
“Stay here. I will be right back.” Diego headed to the door and had a thought. “If I don’t come back it is possible that I can’t. If Angela is here and you can’t see me, don’t wait. Take her and leave. If you CAN see me, then give me time. I will return if I can and I don’t want to walk home from here.”
Geraldo nodded. He followed Diego as far as the doorway and leaned against the door jam as Diego walked up the hill. He carefully kept Diego in sight. It seemed important to not lose sight of him, as though it would be an anchor. He tried not to blink, even when the sun glared and the dust stung.
Diego reached the top of the low hill. He could see the start of the true desert, the tree line on the mountains rising to the north and, if he concentrated, the faint smoky wisps that marked the village. Many of the People had propane stoves now, but the old timers still like the wood burning stoves. They usually used dried cow pats for fuel, paying the youngest kids a dollar for a burlap sack full. The tendrils of smoke were comforting and centering. Diego concentrated on them as he opened his mind to the voices that were never quiet. At first it was like trying to find the right part of the conversation in a crowded room to listen to. Voices wove around, faded and shouted. He was listening for the most familiar of them all, the one he called Shaman. Shaman always seemed more like an Elder than a God. S/He wasn’t as demanding and needy as some of the Gods. Shaman had a pragmatic wisdom. Finally he heard a wisp of a voice, no more substantial than the distant smoke.
“Boy. You have returned.”
“Yes. I am sorry I was gone so long.”
“I understand. Sometimes you need to walk in the Hollow World to appreciate the Solid World.”
“The world is more hollow than it should be.”
“Yes, I know. I am sorry for that. It was not my doing, but I am not as respected as I once was. I see they have made it more hollow for someone else.”
“Yes. I am her advocate. You need to let her return to those who love her. Let her be seen and be remembered. In return she has promised to remember you. She will not speak to you. But I will. If she is returned.”
“I did not want it to be like this. I wanted you to see your own way back to us.”
“I never left you. And I didn’t turn away from you until you took everything from me.”
Shaman was silent. Diego suddenly realized that all the other voices were also silent. He stepped forward involuntarily. It was as though a force he had been pushing against had been removed. He took a deep breathe and as the air filled his lungs he felt his soul lighten. The silence was so open. It wrapped around him, soft and sweet. Some distance away he heard the grinding voice of a crow. Smaller bird voices sang from the top of a pine tree. A snake rustled over dry leaves. Diego had not been aware that he had shut out so much of the world when he tried to not hear the voices. He had pushed everything away and shut himself off. Now he opened himself up to all the sound around him. The voices were still there. They murmured. Intently. Heatedly.
A streak of black swooped by Diego. A crow. It landed just down the far side of the hill. The crow looked at Diego and out of its beak came the multitude of voices that usually filled Diego’s brain.
“We have accepted your offer. She is returned.”
“And what of me? Am I returned?”
“You did not ask for that.”
“I didn’t know I had to.”
The crow tilted its head. Diego thought it had shrugged, but you could not really tell with a crow. With a loud caw the crow leapt into the sky and faded into the distance.
When Diego turned around he saw Angela and Geraldo in a tight embrace. So, the crow had spoken truly. That was something, anyway. By the time he reached the mission, Geraldo had the truck packed and Angela in the tiny back seat. Diego thought that was a nice gesture to not make him sit back there, even though, truth be told, he most likely would have fit more easily. Angela had inherited her father’s long legs.
“Thank you, Diego. I am in your debt.”
“It was my problem. I am sorry your family was hurt by this. Until now the only family hurt was mine. The gods got what they wanted. I will talk to them, and more importantly, listen.”
“Will your wife come back?”
“That is the thing. She didn’t leave. She thinks I left. She couldn’t see me. She did not want to wait in the middle of nowhere for me to return. She had no idea why I left and blamed herself. She went into town to survive. To get a job, to be closer to the school. It would have been kinder if she had forgotten me."
Diego climbed into the pickup. His feet dangled. For a moment he felt as though his whole body was dangling, lifting, flying. The gods were capricious. They saw the world differently than the People did. They had more eyes. They had more places to see, this world and the others. That would make anyone a little crazy. As the sun flashed on the horizon, the purple and green streaks fanning over the sky Diego, for just a moment, saw one of the other worlds. One with tall green grass, trees heavy with fruit and buffalo black on the hills. There were no People in this world. There never had been so the gods came here for quiet, a respite from demands. But while they had lounged and feasted the People had stopped asking and the gods had not noticed. By the time they did it was too late. The People were diminished, herded onto poor land, stopped from following the paths that led them to the gods. The gods blamed each other and then they blamed Diego. Diego was suddenly saddened to his core, the loss more than could be borne. And then the sadness was gone. He heard faint laughter.
It was Shaman. “We have learned something, and that is not a usual thing. We saw into the Other Chosen, the one we returned. She is the New People, isn’t she? She speaks to many and many speak to her in magical ways. She can speak for us and not know it. She can dance and invite others to dance. We are not dead yet.” The laughter faded. The silence descended.
Geraldo drove Diego home. A lantern was lit in the house. In the bedroom that Diego shared with Maria. The windows were open and snatches of music skittered through the air. A bad moon was on the rise. Diego smiled. He did not know what awaited him, but he thought his own waiting was over.
edited to remove a completely unnecessary chapter heading
