Part 3: 11 - Pinball
2018, Barb makes a friend
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 3: 10 - Expanding • Dani finds she has something to give
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
11 - Pinball
Barb Ames
April 10, 2018
La Mesa, California
A hummingbird met Barb at her car and led her to the front porch, then hovered away to its quarry, a healthy patch of red salvia in the flowerbed. Barb’s tiny square of lawn shone bright on the sunny Spring day. She kept it green, mowed, and weeded. The inside of the house was another matter, but the yard always looked like a damned Disney cartoon. She smiled to herself. The landscape irrigation she learned back at Allen Haven still paid off.
What didn’t pay off was her roommate-slash-ex-boyfriend. She hadn’t kicked him out because he had nowhere to go, but he was always over a month late on the rent, sometimes more.
Ain’t life funny? Barb had become both of her parents. She lived in a rented house blocks away from the house where she grew up. She worked two jobs, and in-between those jobs she bitched about money. At least there was no wedding band, no kids to pass along this cancer-torch.
As she let herself into the house, the first thing she saw was the flashing glow of the TV screen from the den. “Serge!” She yelled.
He was in his usual spot, the wooden rocking chair in front of the TV, game controller in hand, but he was not alone. A small dark-haired boy of about ten or twelve and a smaller girl looked up at her from the couch, brown eyes wide.
Serge looked surprised. “Barb. . .”
“Hello,” Barb said to the two kids, trying to sound more friendly. “I’m Barb. . .” No response. They just stared at her, frozen, like frightened mice cornered by a cat. But sensing no threat, they soon returned to watching the game. Now we have zombie children. Nice.
She directed her gaze to Serge. “Whose kids?”
“I’m just watching them overnight. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. I thought you were working both jobs.”
“Surprise,” said Barb flatly, her eyes squinted in irritation. “I am working both jobs, but I have a few hours. You wouldn’t happen to have your half of last month’s rent money, would you?”
“Oh, actually yeah. I do.” Serge pulled his wallet from the pocket of his sweatpants and handed her a small wad of bills. “Here’s half of it, anyway. I’ll give you the rest tomorrow.”
“Cash, huh? What did you do, rob an ATM?”
“Very funny,” said Serge. “My friend gave me money to watch the kids until their uncle comes by to pick them up tomorrow. His flight was delayed. He was desperate.”
“Musta been,” said Barb, cocking her head to one side. “Well, I’ve gotta go. I’m meeting Charlie at his new digs before I go to work tonight.”
Barb ducked into her bedroom and changed from the peach and white polyester cafe uniform to the black button-up she wore at the cook-your-own-steak dinner club. As she went to the front door, she yelled back to Serge, “There’s ham and cheese in the fridge. Don’t forget to feed them.”
“Of course not,” came Serge’s reply.
As she drove, her thoughts churning, the more it seemed wrong. It was never unusual to have extra kids for the weekend when Bubba was young, but now that Bubba was grown and doing his own thing. . . Serge wouldn’t have been her first choice to watch kids if she had kids. Not that he was dangerous or anything. It was just weird. It grated on her.
There in the house she paid most of the rent for—let’s be real, most often all of the rent—her roommate was playing video games with some rando friend’s kids while she worked two jobs like a damned dog. He didn’t even pick up a dish. Something had to change and she knew it wouldn’t be Serge. Barb sat straighter at the wheel and tightened her jaw. No more slack.
Halfway through El Cajon, Barb’s phone buzzed. Charlie. His text said: Sorry Sis. Gotta cancel. I’ll call later.
Barb sighed. Ha. No little brother’s new house tour today. What to do?
Faced with either going back home to help babysit—Uh. No. Or sitting in her car for two hours, she just kept driving. Before she knew it, she was going past the old Circle K and then turning left at Blue Haven Lane.
She parked off the highway at the bottom of the hill. A little exercise? It was a good enough excuse to walk up the hill and check the status of Allen Haven Ranch. She wished she had remembered to fill her flask. She could sit under that tree and have a sip or two. It was a beautiful mild afternoon.
Barb reached the pepper tree at the fork of the road, huffing and puffing like an old lady. To the right was the Allen Haven Ranch gate. Not much had changed since the last time she was there. It still looked like the gate hadn’t been opened in ages, but new green weeds were threaded between the steel bars.
The old list scrolled out in Barb’s mind: What if Dani hadn’t followed me that day? What if she hadn’t been abducted and murdered? What if the murderer hadn’t buried her under this tree? What if, What if, What if.
Looking at the overgrown gate, Barb saw what once was, a neatly maintained gravel drive that wound around the hill and opened onto a paradise better than any that ever existed in her world—or ever would. For the best four years of her life, she had the horses. She had Fancy. It seemed like some kind of hallucination now. She had the Allens. She had friends. Everything was gone so long ago. Now she only had memories, bittersweet but savored all the same.
She walked up to the tree, touching the rough bark and admiring the willowy branches and their pink pepper corns. Did it still seem to shimmer more than other trees, or was it just because she noticed it more than other trees?
Suddenly, a rustle in the brush caught her attention. Something black, a sharp shadow bigger than a squirrel, hit the tree. She could hear the quick skitter of claws clutching the bark on its way up. It ricocheted like a pinball bouncing and bumping from limb to limb. A cat. She couldn’t see it, but it could only be a cat.
Out on the hill behind a creosote bush from which the shadow had shot, she spied two sets of tan pointed ears. Coyotes. “Looks like you missed your meal, guys.” She stomped. “Pshsssh! Git! Go eat a rabbit or something.” They disappeared up the hill, but she was sure they would be back.
Barb shaded her eyes and peered up into the waving branches. Glowing green eyes stared back at her. It was a black kitten, maybe six months old, just old enough to get into plenty of trouble. “You’re out of your league, kid. You might have been dinner.”
A space opened inside Barb’s heart. She had never made time for a pet, but in the next beat she was already planning her route to CVS for cat food and a litter box. Barb reached up into the tree, as if the sleek little creature would jump into her arms. “Come down, silly.” But the cat didn’t move a muscle; its glowing eyes barely blinked. Barb reached a hand closer. The kitten hissed.
She heard something behind her and looked back to the lane, startled. A skinny old man in a cowboy hat was standing there, also looking up. He smiled. “Pobre gatito!”
One tooth was missing on the edge of the smile, but it was somehow disarming rather than frightening. He tipped his head toward the tree and asked, “Is that your cat?”
“No,” said Barb. “And I don’t need a cat.”
His head tilted back and he laughed, “Somebody thinks you do!”
“I would hate for her to be dinner for coyotes,” said Barb. “But I’m not sure how to get her down.”
“A ladder?” The jovial fellow asked.
Where did this guy come from? He looked familiar though. She was pretty sure she had seen him walking down the highway more than once over the years. She touched her phone and thought about calling 911, like she was living a scene from Lassie or something. Nobody actually calls the fire department for a kitten up a tree, ya big dork.
Barb looked around, realizing it might look odd that she was up here with no one to actually visit. “A ladder could work, but I don’t have one. I don’t live here.”
“I might be able to help,” said the man. He stuck out a hand, “Kiko Gonzalez.”
She shook it, “Barb Ames.”
“I think I’ve seen you here before,” said Kiko. “Did you know Dani?”
Barb felt her eyebrows tense. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a while. “Uh. . . You mean Dani Cartwright?”
He nodded at the tree.
Barb said, “She was my neighbor. Did you know her?”
“Not really. . . Pero, you know they found her body here?” He was pointing at the base of the tree.
Barb felt a chill for a moment when the breeze picked up. “Yes. I know.”
Kiko gestured to the drive on the left and said, “I know the Vasquez family. I can probably borrow a ladder.”
“Are you sure?” Barb wasn’t used to people offering help.
He shrugged. “It’s no trouble.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward standing there while the wiry old man walked away up the drive. She stayed by the tree, hoping the kitten would not leap back down into the jaws of the coyotes that were no doubt waiting nearby.
Not ten minutes later, Kiko returned with a lightweight aluminum ladder under one arm, and a dusty cardboard cat carrier in the other hand.
Barb said, “Oh, good thinking. Thank you!”
“De nada! Pero, la señora is the thinker. She told me she saw the litter of kittens and tried to catch them all, but she must have missed one.”
Even with the advantage of the ladder, it took a while, and plenty of cooing and coaxing, before Barb was finally able to get a hold of the kitten by the scruff. She hauled it down and pushed it gently into the box, claws scraping against the cardboard walls.
“Now what am I going to do with you?” Barb said to her captive, who had already begun complaining loudly in the box.
Kiko laughed, “You have kids?” He asked.
“No,” Barb said, then remembered the silent visitors, “Well, I guess I do, temporarily.”
Kiko shrugged the ladder under his arm. “They will like this gatito.”
Barb walked with him up the drive to return the ladder. Still feeling uncomfortable, everything came out at once to fill the space, “My roommate is watching two kids, but just overnight. . . I mean, it wasn’t unusual to have extra kids on a weekend when his son was small. But now all of a sudden, in the middle of the week, these two kids are in my den watching him play Bubba’s old video games. It’s just a little weird.”
She stopped talking. This old guy doesn’t care about my personal problems. When they reached the shed, Barb helped Kiko hang the ladder back on its hooks. Then he closed and locked the padlock.
Heading back down the lane, he asked, “Did you talk to them?”
“The kids?” Said Barb. So he was listening.
He nodded.
“I tried. They wouldn’t speak to me. Two mute kids.” Barb let out a chuckle. “I was only there for a couple minutes though.”
She took a few steps before adding, “Now that I think about it, my roommate didn’t speak to them, either. He says he’s watching them for a friend whose flight was delayed. The parents must have been desperate.”
Kiko put a hand to his bearded chin. “Do you think maybe they don’t speak English?”
“I don’t know.” Barb thought about this. They looked like regular kids from the area, brown skin, hispanic background. But they were awfully shy.
“My friends tell me a lot of kids are getting sent north from Central America right now,” said Kiko. “Sometimes they don’t have their parents with them. It’s dangerous. They don’t always get where they’re going.”
“Oh, I never would have thought of that,” said Barb.
Kiko turned to look at her, “You have to protect the kids.” His eyes had turned dark and serious under the brim of his white hat. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t mean that’s what’s happening with your roommate. Pero. . .” His voice became pinched and shaky, “You have to protect los niños. They cannot look out for themselves. If the kids are in trouble, you gotta tell somebody.”
As they reached the fork of the road, the two turned to face each other. Were those tears welling in the old man’s eyes, or was that just his age? Barb said, “Thank you for your help.”
“De nada,” said Kiko, waving it away, “Find out with the kids.”
“I will,” said Barb.
He turned and walked toward the fire road that curved around the hill behind Allen Haven.
Barb stared at the pepper tree for a moment to watch a breeze whistling a wave through its long branches until the kitten brought her attention back with a long howling meow from the box. She carried her unhappy new friend down the rutted lane to her car while wondering if any other kids had stayed at the house with Serge without her knowing. It might be time to file that eviction notice—if not for this, for so many other reasons. She glanced down at her watch. There was a lot to do before the dinner shift: questions to address, innocents to consider.
She set the box down on the passenger seat. The kitten immediately went to bouncing around inside, toppling it sideways onto the floorboard. She set it upright, then looked into an air-hole at the bright eyes shining back at her. Innocents—like this tiny acrobat. Bouncy little shiny thing. Like a little pinball.
Pinball. Barb decided that would do for a name.
Next
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
12 - Face the Music
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
I know I am skirting a serious issue in this chapter. This is not the first time I have done this. It will not become a focus, but the smuggling of unaccompanied children from Central America is historically accurate and happens to align with both Kiko’s and Barb’s situations and storylines.
As protective as we all are of our children, it is hard to imagine the vulnerability of unaccompanied minors in a smuggling situation, and the desperation that would put them there. I think of innocents like Dani. Both light and dark themes must be threaded into the weave of this tapestry. This is one of the dark themes.
Speaking of weaving, the last few weeks I’ve been giving the end of my outline a hard look and revamping some chapter notes. Small things have changed along the way that have mounted to bigger divergences as the story continues. I needed to make sure everything was still lining up for a safe landing in Part 4, and what I hope will be a satisfying end to your journey.
I feel much more confident having made these adjustments. More than that, I’m excited all over again to write and share what’s next.
Hang on tight. Only 13 more chapters to go!