“Is this Hannah Manchell?” the voice asked.
“Yes,” Hannah responded.
“Good,” the voice said. “I called Abigail by mistake the first time.”
“No. You had the right number. This is Abigail’s old apartment, and I still haven’t gotten around to changing the message on the machine,” Hannah said sheepishly. “I was in the shower and couldn’t make it to the phone in time,” she added, feeling that if she didn’t give an explanation the voice would know that she’d let the machine pick up because she was afraid to talk to him.
“I see,” the voice said then added nervously, “Abigail gave me your number and said that I should call because maybe you’d want to go out sometime. I’m free tomorrow but if that’s not good for you then maybe Sunday. Abigail said that you would be expecting my call.” The voice paused. Hannah assumed that he needed to catch his breath.
“She said that you’d call,” Hannah said calmly trying to reassure the voice on the other end of the line.
“So how’s tomorrow evening?”
“You can pick me up at 6:30,” Hannah suggested. “Let me give you directions.”
“You’re staying at Abigail’s old townhouse, right?”
“Yes.”
“I know how to get there. I’ll pick you up at 6:30 then.”
“Great,” Hannah said and hung up the phone. She paced back and forth in the living room before lying down to go to sleep. She didn’t sleep though. She wondered what the voice looked like, and she tried to imagine what it would be like going out on a date again.
“How long has it been?” she asked herself. “I haven’t gone out on a first date in . . .” she remembered how long it had been since her last first date. She remembered every detail, everything that she’d said, everything that he’d said. He seemed too perfect and she remembered everything with perfect clarity. “But that was twelve, almost thirteen years ago, and besides that wasn’t really a date,” she told herself. “I’m a different person now than I was back then, and tomorrow won’t be anything like that. I’m single now.” Nevertheless, she lay awake under the covers trying to imagine what the next day would bring.
* * *
When Lewis’s troop got to the trailhead, they unloaded their backpacks from the trailer and went to work pitching their tents in the campsite adjacent to the parking lot. It was already dark, so the first thing Lewis had to do was dig his flashlight out of the bottom of his bag. They were supposed to sleep with two people in each tent, but Lewis’s patrol had five boys, and he ended up as the odd one out. He rolled his tent out and staked down each of the four corners. He pulled the two poles from their bag and paused to think. It didn’t take him long to remember that the end of each pole fit into the grommetted holes in each corner of the tent. They had all practiced pitching their tents, but it had been light then and Lewis had had a partner.
He spent several minutes trying to get the first pole set up. He could put it in the first hole next to the stake, but as he bent it to try and fit it into the hole in the opposite corner the pole always popped out, and he would have to start the process over again. He watched as the other boys worked together. James Guthrie held his end of the pole in place while Michael fit the other end into the opposite hole. Lewis looked on as their tent transformed from a square patch of nylon into a three dimensional structure that could provide shelter from the elements. Lewis wanted to ask for help but not from James Guthrie. He fidgeted with the pole and tried a few more times to fit it into the second hole while he waited on Doug and George to finish unrolling their sleeping bags.
In the end, one of the older boys, whose name Lewis didn’t know, must have seen him struggling because he came over and held the pole in place so that Lewis could finish pitching the tent. Lewis, though grateful to have his tent set up, felt ashamed and embarrassed that he had needed one of the older boys to come help him. Panic momentarily overtook him, as he realized that he couldn’t make it on his own. Knowing that all the other boys had had a partner to help them didn’t change the fact that Lewis felt like he should have been able to take care of his responsibility by himself. He pulled his mat and sleeping bag from his backpack and unrolled them inside the tent before joining the other boys who had already started a fire and gathered around it.
“I can’t believe that we’re actually going to sleep out here,” one of the older boys said casually as Lewis sat down next to Doug and George.
“Why not?” Michael asked.
“You really don’t know?” Another of the older boys said.
“Know what?” James asked.
“About what happened out here,” the older boy answered.
“What?” Michael asked.
“I don’t know if we should tell you.”
“Tell us what?” James said impatiently.
“There was this couple who came out here a while back to make out, and while they were fooling around in the backseat they heard a rustling in the bushes, and then something thumping on the side of the car. The guy told his girlfriend to lay down low on the floorboards and wait for him. He got out of the car and a minute later the girl heard something dripping on the hood and her boyfriend never came back. The dripping continued all night, but she was too afraid to get out of the car to see what it was. In the morning she woke up and got out of the car and saw that her boyfriend’s body was hanging from the tree and that it had been his blood dripping onto the car. It was that tree there, right by the trailer.”
“No it wasn’t,” another of the older boys said. “It was the oak tree next to it.”
The older boys argued back and forth over which tree the body had been found in before Doug asked, “What happened to him?”
“That’s just it, nobody knows for sure,” one of the older boys answered.
“The police report said that the convict that escaped a few years ago did it,” another of the older boys chimed in.
“But everyone knows that the police were just trying to come up with an explanation,” said another of the older boys. “Nobody really believes that the convict did it, even though he is supposed to be somewhere around here.”
“Why not?” George asked, and Lewis found the skepticism in his voice comforting.
“Because all the girl heard was dripping, and a convict couldn’t get a man all the way up in that tree without making some kind of noise. Look how high the first branch is from the ground. That’s how I remember that it was the oak tree.”
The other boys confirmed this, and even the ones that had argued that the boy had been found in the tree by the trailer now said that they had been wrong and that they now remembered clearly that the body had been found in the oak tree.
Lewis had enough sense to know that the older boys had fabricated the whole story to scare them. He’d almost believed it when one of the boys mentioned the police report, but as all of them clamored in agreement that the body had been in the oak tree, Lewis realized that even something as official sounding as a police report could be made up to make the story seem more credible.
“You don’t believe that story, do you?” he whispered to George.
“They’re just trying to scare us,” George confirmed.
Despite being completely convinced that the story had no truth in it, Lewis couldn’t go to sleep that night. He lay awake in his sleeping bag and listened attentively to every rustling in every bush. He didn’t believe a word of what the older boys had told him, but he didn’t have to believe for the fearfulness that the story had evoked to overcome him. The story had been real in the sense that Lewis had looked at the oak tree and pictured a mangled body hanging from its branches, and as he lay awake he couldn’t get the image out of his head.
The thought of something killing him in his sleep didn’t scare him, but he couldn’t help thinking about what could possibly account for a body being lifted up to the tree without making a sound. The mystery terrified him. In his head he knew it was a lie, but the veracity of the sinking feeli
ng that came with the unknown and the unexplainable had managed to seep into a deeper part of his consciousness. That deeper part of his consciousness kept him awake and made him jump every time the wind blew through the bushes.
* * *
Peter got out of bed and turned on the television. He and Abraham both spent the night watching the flickering images, though not together. They each stayed up, each one alone, isolated in their respective dwellings.
Chapter 10
A Wall Away
Bread baking in the oven
a warm breeze blowing in the scent
of flowers through the open window
soft music in the background
it’s all enough to make her forget
that it’s a world away
from Home.
Somewhere in the simple beauty
cultivated and kept within the wall
she might catch a glimpse of Home
if she could only forget the world
outside the wall.
The maid sweeps the dust
that was tracked in from the outside world
back out onto the dusty streets,
keeping the footpath pristine.
Having lived a life in those streets
she sweeps happily, singing softly,
glad to serve—within the wall.
Outside the wall lies
a world at war:
disease, starvation, hopelessness;
a world in need:
hostility, quarreling, jealousy;
where so little goes so far:
love, joy, peace;
a hard reality.
But inside the bed is as soft
as the siren’s song:
The day is done;
take off your shoes; shut the curtain;
sit down; lock out the outside world;
don’t look out past the wall;
if you do, you’ll only see
one more.
There will always be one more;
it’s dangerous and it’s not your job;
come rest; forget the world and sleep;
don’t stay up wondering
if you could have helped
one more.
There will always be one more;
let someone else do it;
sleep now; I’ll give you dreams
of a better world.
Within the wall she begins to ask:
Have I done my duty?
But she does not find an easy answer
and so she settles into a house, into a bed,
into a world so far from Home,
and forgets the outside war.
She falls asleep early in the bed,
as soft as the siren’s song,
while the sun still scorches
the world outside the wall.
Lewis woke up when the sun had risen high enough to shine through the tent window that he’d left open. He looked at his watch and then lay awake in his sleeping bag waiting for 6:30. He heard movement from James and Michael’s tent and then shouting. He sat up to look out the open window and saw that their entire tent was shaking back and forth. It sounded like they were wrestling. Lewis felt relieved that he didn’t have to share a tent with James Guthrie. He told himself that he was glad to get an entire tent to himself.
A particularly loud holler came from James’s tent, and Michael tumbled out the open door wearing nothing but his underwear. Lewis wanted to know what had happened inside the tent, but he reminded himself to be content not knowing and not sharing a tent with one of the other boys. When 6:30 arrived two of the older boys made their way around the tents waking everyone up. Lewis had already gotten dressed and hurried out of the tent hoping that everyone would notice how prepared he’d been. The fire crackled from inside the ring of stones, and the adult leaders sat around drinking their coffee.
“Why don’t you guys teach the newbies how to cook pancakes,” one of them suggested to an older boy who happened to be walking by. The older boy called everyone over to the fire, and Lewis watched as he made pancake batter and spooned the goop out into the skillet, which he set over a bed of coals. The batter began to bubble, and he flipped it over revealing a golden pancake. Lewis wanted to explain that he already knew how to make pancakes, and he almost pointed out that his dad put a little bit of butter in the pan to keep the pancakes from sticking. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe his dad had been wrong about putting butter in the skillet. The older boy flipped the pancake again and then took it out of the skillet. He put a little bit of oil in the skillet before scooping two more spoonfuls of batter out of the bowl.
“Do you have to use oil?” Lewis asked.
“It keeps the pancakes from sticking,” the older boy explained.
“But is it bad if you use something else like butter?” Lewis asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried anything else.
“Butter can catch on fire if the pan gets too hot,” Lewis offered.
“Then I guess you shouldn’t use butter,” the older boy responded, obviously confused by Lewis’s train of thought.
Lewis already knew that he shouldn’t use butter, and he wanted to ask again if it were bad to use something other than oil, but he knew that nobody would understand what he was asking, and so he waited patiently until his turn to practice making pancakes finally came. He poured the batter and waited until he saw bubbles forming and then flipped the pancake perfectly. He didn’t break it or get batter all over the spatula like James Guthrie and Michael. Lewis tried to hide his sense of triumph but couldn’t repress the smile that crept across his face as he flipped the pancake onto the stack and sat back down to wait on Doug and George to make theirs.
* * *
When the fifteen passenger vans arrived at their destination in Mexico on Saturday morning, the exhaustion in every face indicated that nobody had gotten any rest the night before. A cheery white face stopped whatever it was that she’d been doing to greet the weary bodies as they filed out of the vehicles. Julia and Sara were the last to get out. The young woman with the cheery face had already begun to welcome everyone and to explain where they would sleep and where they could take their luggage. Julia, as worn out as she was, tried to take in her surroundings. When they’d crossed the border into Mexico she’d seen the change as clear as night and day: shanty cinderblock houses, maimed beggars, dusty streets and sidewalks.
She’d wanted to take it all in, not missing the slightest detail, but she’d leaned on Sara’s shoulder and let her eyelids shut. Now that she’d opened them again she didn’t know what to think. She stepped out of the van into an enclosed compound. The wall that enclosed the compound, though made of the same cinder blocks as everything else, was tall and covered with stucco and white paint that covered up the cracks and all of the places where mortar had been splattered during construction. Flowers and bushes lined both the courtyard and the building into which sleepy eyed youth carried their bags.
The building itself towered over all the surrounding edifices, despite the fact that it consisted of only two stories. Julia looked out past the gate where the houses made of unpainted cinder blocks lined the street. The cheery white face explained something in Spanish to a young Mexican girl, who held a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. The girl looked like she was about the same age as Julia.
Julia continued to survey the complex as she waited until someone unloaded her bag and handed it to her. She was about to step inside the building when she heard a woman at the gate shouting. Julia had to listen closely to pick out the syllables: “Medicina, medicina, mi bebé.” Julia left her bag by the door and went to the cheery white face.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I think that there’s a woman who needs some medicine.”
The young woman’s white face looked more exasperated than cheery.
“I told her yesterday that she needed to wait until the free clinic on Monday,” she said, though not nec
essarily to Julia. Then, looking back at Julia added, “thanks for letting me know.”
Julia went back to the door and took her bag inside. She found Sara standing next to a tile mosaic of a cross and a dove with an olive branch.
“Our room’s down here,” Sara said, and Julia followed her down the hallway and into a small room with bunk beds, a desk, and a thermostat to adjust the air-conditioning. Sara threw her bag on the top bunk and turned the thermostat down to sixty-eight degrees.
“I assumed that you would want the bottom bunk,” she said as Julia collapsed on the soft mattress and closed her eyes. Julia nodded her head in consent and had just enough time before she fell asleep to appreciate how soft the pillow felt under her tired head.
* * *
The hiking proved to be harder than Lewis had expected. The sun beat down on him as he trudged along behind Doug and George, but in front of James and Michael. When he came to a part of the trail shaded by a tree, he slowed down trying to stay in the shade for as long as he could before hurrying to catch up with the other boys. Cheese and sausage on Ritz crackers hadn’t been enough to satisfy his hunger, and he’d already sweated out almost all of the water he’d taken in. He wanted to quit and go home, and if that had been an option he would have seriously considered it.
But he knew that he couldn’t find his way back on his own, and even if he could, the vehicles wouldn’t be waiting for him in the parking lot. He knew that he had to go on, despite sore legs and a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He at least had to make it further than James Guthrie. He looked back and saw James and Michael walking side-by-side goofing off. They didn’t look tired at all, so Lewis tried his best to ignore the pain in his legs and keep moving forward.
* * *
The sun had just risen above the horizon when Clint pulled into the hotel parking lot. The drowsy passengers unloaded the van and checked into their rooms. Clint had made the reservation for two doubles and a single, not knowing that Jessica would find a date at the last minute. Thomas said that he didn’t mind and suggested that the hotel let him pay for a double and sleep on an extra mattress on the floor. The woman at the desk agreed, but when they got to the room Jessica indicated that the extra mattress wouldn’t be necessary. She sat on the bed while Thomas looked around the room. The accommodations left him far from impressed until he opened the curtains and realized that the balcony had a view of the beach. He turned to suggest to Jessica that they walk down to the ocean, but she had already curled up on the twin-sized mattress and closed her eyes.