Dreams of arcadia, p.12
Dreams of Arcadia, page 12
“Traffic shouldn’t be this bad, Roscoe. Not on a Saturday.”
Roscoe gave him a sympathetic look from his perch in the passenger’s seat. A truck behind him honked, and Nate jumped. Traffic was moving again. He drove on, not breathing easier until finally exiting the freeway two miles later.
He planned to spend the night with his mother before visiting the girls on Sunday, but he first went by and checked on his house. The front yard was overgrown, although not as bad as he expected. He mowed the grass, hoping this was the last time it would need mowing until spring, and then he edged along the street. The house was a mess when he moved out, so he tried to do some cleaning, but his heart wasn’t in it. The place demoralized him, and he couldn’t wait to leave.
Nate ate dinner with his mother that evening on her patio. When she asked him about his new life, he tried to be positive. He didn’t want her worrying, so he didn’t mention Willie Petru, Harold Lubojasky, Wink, or his brush with Tiny’s cow.
When they had finished eating, she took their plates inside and brought back glasses of wine. It was dark by then, and moths circled the dim glow of the porch light. On the drive in, he had decided to ask her about the accident, even rehearsing what he would say, but his resolve evaporated. His exhaustion from the last few days didn’t help.
“Have you seen the girls lately?” he said.
She frowned. “Not as much as I’d like. Your ex-wife is a real bitch, but I guess you know that well enough. I took them to the zoo a few weekends ago, the first time I’d been there since you and Sarah were little. But most weekends they’re running around too much. And she won’t bring them here. I have to go get them.”
This wasn’t surprising. Caroline and his mother had never been exactly chummy. The mention of his sister reminded Nate he needed to send her his new address.
“Have you talked to Sarah lately?”
“Not for a couple of months.”
Nate detected a touch of bitterness in her voice. Sarah was married to a career military man. She had three kids, ranging from seven to fourteen, and the family had moved from one air force base to another over sixteen years, most recently to Qatar. His mother and Sarah had been at odds since her troubled adolescence. Sarah fell in with a rough crowd and barely managed to finish high school. Other than Christmas cards and the very rare phone conversation, Nate had no contact with her. He wished they had a better relationship.
After a few more minutes of halting conversation, his mother said, “It’s getting a bit chilly. I think I’ll go inside.”
Nate followed, wishing he hadn’t mentioned Sarah.
They spent the rest of the evening quietly. His mother read a novel, while Nate half-heartedly tried to watch a baseball playoff game and paged through a magazine. He couldn’t keep his mind off his lunchtime conversation with Ruthie. If his mother noticed he was distracted, she didn’t mention it. There was a palpable tension in the room, but neither of them would acknowledge it.
They took the dogs for an early walk the next day, enjoying the cool morning air. With few cars out and the Victorian homes lining the streets, it was easy to imagine what the neighborhood looked like back in its heyday. The Heights was once on the edge of town, a fashionable area for the city’s up-and-coming, connected to downtown by streetcar. Like so many old neighborhoods, it suffered from neglect during the post-war era as families moved to the suburbs. Gentrification over the past couple of decades had brought many of the old homes back from the brink.
Nate left Roscoe with his mother for the day and picked up the girls just before noon. After stopping for lunch at Sal’s, they headed south to Galveston. The island had been a favorite spot for family outings when the girls were younger. Nate thought the water might be too cool for swimming, but he told the girls to bring their swimsuits anyway. Marianne rode in the front and talked the entire trip, while Emma stared out the rear window.
When they reached the island, they first explored some shops on The Strand. Nate remembered his father telling him about their Holub ancestors arriving in Galveston from Europe. The city was one of the largest in Texas before the hurricane of 1900 almost wiped it off the map. A few downtown buildings survived the storm, and as they walked the streets, Nate wondered if any of them were standing when those early Holubs stumbled off the boat.
They got back in the car and drove down to Seawall Boulevard and the beach. The water was surprisingly still warm, and Marianne stripped down to her bathing suit and was soon crashing into the surf, urging Nate and Emma to join her. Nate hadn’t even brought his trunks, and Emma just frowned.
Nate took off his shoes and socks, pulled up his pant legs, and walked up to the water. The wet sand felt good on his feet. Emma reluctantly followed, and they started walking along the water’s edge. The briny sea air echoed with the shrieks of gulls and the laughter of kids farther down the beach.
Nate stopped and looked at Emma. “Everything all right? You’re being really quiet.”
Emma looked down, rubbing her big toe on the opposite heel, holding his arm for support. “You know me, Dad. I’m the quiet temperamental one.”
They started walking again, and Nate looked over his shoulder at Marianne. He began to yell to her not to go out too far, but he hesitated, knowing she was an excellent swimmer. He turned back to Emma. “So how’s your mother doing?”
Emma was squinting at a fishing boat bouncing over the waves far on the horizon, and the squint became a scowl. “She’s turning positively weird, Dad, I swear. She obsesses over things so much.”
“Like what?”
“First, it was our clothes. She thinks we can’t be seen wearing anything less than designer labels. She takes us to the Galleria about every other weekend. Marianne likes to shop, but you know me, I’d rather be anywhere than the mall. And now, it’s my friends.”
“What’s wrong with your friends?”
“It’s like they’re not good enough for her or something. She’s threatening to put me in a different school. She’s flipped since the divorce, Dad. She really has.”
“Aren’t you still friends with Allison?”
“Allison? We changed schools, remember? Plus, she moved to Florida last year. I know a couple of girls from the cross-country team.”
“They’re good kids?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re just nerds like me. We go to movies or just hang out mostly.”
Nate wished he had been keeping up with her social life better. Their email and phone conversations were mostly about her classes and cross-country meets. He was worried about her grades slipping since the change of schools. She had always been an A/B student but was making Cs in algebra. He should have been asking about her friends as well. She could be running around with drugged-out crazies for all he knew, getting tattoos and body piercings, dyeing her hair green.
Nate looked back again to check on Marianne, but he couldn’t see her. Taking Emma by the hand, he turned around. “Come on, we should head back and see about your sister.”
He picked up the pace, looking nervously at the waves until he spotted her and saw she was safe.
The fragility of life terrified him, at least where his daughters were concerned. The line between happiness and despair is razor-thin, and all it takes is a sudden shift in the wind or a moment of inattention by the driver in the other lane to turn life upside down instantly.
He turned back to Emma. “And dare I ask…what about boys?”
Emma scowled again. “Can’t help you there, Dad. You need to talk to my fair sister. She has that market cornered.”
Nate cringed. Oh God, just help me get through these next few years.
They walked back, sat down on the sand, and put their shoes back on. Sunlight shimmered on the gentle swells beyond the surf. Marianne was playing with some kids who were body surfing with inflatable rafts. They let her ride one, and she shrieked when she took a spill, her limbs flying wildly into the air. Nate laughed and glanced at Emma, but she was sulking.
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
She turned her face away.
He gently pulled her chin toward him and saw tears running down her cheeks. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Don’t cry, honey. Please don’t cry.”
He rocked her softly, her head against his cheek, watching the ebb and flow of the surf on the dark wet sand. “What is it? What can I do?”
She pulled away and looked up at him with wet eyes, sniffling, and shook her head. Then she leaned back against him and took his hand in both of hers. “This is enough.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He wanted to keep holding her, to protect her from a cold uncaring world, but he felt powerless to do so, as though she were on a boat headed over a waterfall while he watched helplessly from the shore.
After Marianne finished her swim, they left the beach and went to Moody Gardens. One of Marianne’s friends had told her about the penguin exhibit, and she wanted to see it. The penguins’ antics made even Emma laugh, and Nate was glad to see her mood improve. They watched an IMAX movie about the Grand Canyon and then went to Gaido’s for some seafood.
On the drive back to Houston, Marianne again rode in the front. Nate couldn’t believe how much she had changed in the few weeks since the move. Her hair looked darker, her face fuller, her movements less awkward and more self-assured. They were growing up so fast.
He turned down the radio. “So what’s this I hear about boyfriends?”
Marianne turned around and glared at Emma. “Well…despite what you may have been told, there are no boyfriends. I have some friends who happen to be boys, but that’s all.”
In the rearview mirror, Nate saw Emma roll her eyes. He hesitated, shifting in his seat. “You uh…just be…um…you know—”
“Dad, don’t worry. Mom has given us ‘The Talk.’” Marianne mimed quotation marks. “She’s on top of this stuff, she really is.” She patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. Then she pointed at him and laughed. “You’re blushing. Look Em!”
Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, no I’m not. Just got a little too much sun today.”
They drove on in silence. On their left, the sun was low on the horizon, and soft golden light lay over the coastal salt flats. A gentle north breeze stirred the marsh grass, creating ripples along the water’s surface. A great blue heron stepped gingerly in the shallows, patiently eyeing the water for fish and crab, while a flock of newly arrived geese rose from a distant inlet and became lost in the sun. Development was still relatively light along this stretch of the interstate, the threat of hurricane flooding having kept all but the most intrepid developers at bay. As they drove north, however, those few remnants of the once vast coastal marsh gave way to an inland sea of housing around La Marque, Dickinson, and League City.
Nate pondered his role in his daughters’ lives. Even before the divorce, he felt them slipping away, moving just beyond his grasp, to a place where he wasn’t really needed or maybe even welcome. That feeling intensified after the divorce, and his reach for them had started feeling more like a desperate lunge. But Emma had shown him he was still needed, that he still had a role to play. He knew he had to visit more often. He also had to bring them to DeLeon County once his spare bedroom was furnished and the house tidied up.
Assuming he lasted that long.
They passed the exits for Clear Lake and were soon immersed in the cacophony of the city. It seemed like he had been gone much longer than a few weeks. Houston had been his home all of his life, but it now felt strange to him, the chaotic buzz of the place unsettling. He felt disconnected…adrift…unable to get his bearings.
On the interstate driving back that evening, somewhere west of Houston, Nate realized his life was balanced between two very different worlds, just as his father’s had been. Maybe they shared something after all.
Then later, as he neared Hadlow, it dawned on him how different their situations really were—for his father, one of those two places had felt like home.
Fourteen
Life in DeLeon County had developed a rhythm by mid-October. The long hot summer had finally ended, and football season was in full swing. Store windows throughout town were painted with slogans to cheer on the local high school heroes—the Hadlow Armadillos.
When Nate got to the clinic one Friday morning, he walked into the waiting room and saw Irene sweeping the floor. She wore a purple sweater over her usual flannel shirt.
“Hey, Irene. Jennie in Vegas for a three-day weekend?”
She stopped sweeping only long enough to look up. “No, just taking the day off.”
Try as he might, Nate had yet to make her smile.
He checked the appointment book. He was scheduled to go to Henrietta Kovar’s house right after lunch to vaccinate and deworm some dogs. When he had told Everett about the appointment, he said, “Henrietta? You better take Russell and be prepared for anything. I’ve had some real rodeos out there.”
Everett planned to recheck Myrtle Hamilton’s lame horse that morning, and then he was headed out to Sandy Oaks to palpate cows.
Nate turned to Irene. “How’s Zach doing?”
Irene had started opening up a bit in recent weeks. She had told him Zach was having trouble in school. Since her husband Clint’s death, Zach had been prone to angry outbursts. He had a fight with another kid at school recently and was suspended for three days. Nate also learned that Irene moved to Hadlow from Austin that spring to live with her mother, who had lupus and was frequently bedridden.
Irene walked over to the reception desk. She rested her arm on the counter and frowned. “There haven’t been any more fights, but his grades still aren’t very good. I try to help him, but I can’t spend as much time with him as I’d like.”
Nate leaned on the counter, his legs crossed behind him. Now that Irene was standing close, he could see how tired she looked. Instead of the usual ponytail, her hair cascaded down her shoulders, flaming like a sunset. She twirled a strand of it around her finger.
“Hang in there,” he said. “Once he meets more friends, he’ll start doing better. It’s always tough for the new kid.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Irene’s eyes were hazel. There was kindness in them, maybe even a hint of playfulness beneath the layers of worry and grief.
Nate felt impulsive. “Hey, is Zach a football fan? Everett invited me to the big game tonight. Why don’t you meet us there?”
Irene shuffled her feet, looking down at the countertop. “I don’t know.”
“Come on. It might do you both some good.”
“Maybe.”
Nate gently grasped her shoulder, feeling the plush sweater, her soft hair on the back of his fingers. “You really should come. It’ll be fun.”
Irene fidgeted and ducked her shoulder, and Nate quickly withdrew his hand. She turned and went back to sweeping, and he walked toward the office, his face burning.
That morning was as busy as any Nate had experienced. The town buzzed with energy about the game, and people were on the move, running their errands. With Everett on the road, Nate struggled to keep up. Trailer after trailer pulled into the drive. Between the large animal jobs, Nate ducked inside to catch up while Russell waved the next trailer back to the loading chute. They had a cow with a cervical prolapse, calves to vaccinate and dehorn, and a cow with an abscess on her jaw.
While Nate was lancing the abscess, Russell said, “Don’t look now. Mr. Sunshine is here.”
Russell could tell the Lubojasky brothers apart better than Nate, and Nate grimaced when he realized Harold had stepped out of his truck and was walking their way.
“Hey there, Harold,” Russell said, grinning. “Isn’t it a great day to be alive?”
“Where’s Dr. Templeton?”
Nate was flushing the abscess with a large syringe of saline. “He’s out on the road. Won’t be back until after lunch. Can we help you?”
Harold scowled and shook his head. “I got a lame cow…bad lame. Dr. Templeton needs to see her. She’s one of my best cows.”
Nate bit his lip. Of course she is. Bovine royalty, no doubt. “We’ll put her in the pen. He can take a look at her later this afternoon.”
“Later this afternoon? You said he’d be back right after lunch.”
“I’m not exactly sure when he’s getting back, but he’s got some surgeries to do after lunch. He’ll get to your cow when he gets time.”
“Surgeries? What…some mutt needs its balls cut off?” He laughed. “Shit, I thought that was your job.”
Nate turned his back on Harold as he drew up an antibiotic injection. He took a slow deep breath.
Harold hesitated, then stormed back to his truck. He sat down in the cab with the door open and made a phone call.
“Don’t let that asshole get to you,” Russell said.
Nate tapped the cow’s neck several times rhythmically with the back of his hand before popping the needle in. He attached the syringe and gave the injection. They got the cow back on the trailer, then Nate went inside while Russell helped Harold unload his cow.
In the office, Nate slipped off his coveralls and went into the bathroom to clean up. A few people were waiting—a woman with an itchy cat and an elderly couple with a dog needing its anal glands expressed. It was just past noon by the time he finally caught up.
Nate and Russell headed to Henrietta’s house after stopping for lunch at El Guapo, a Mexican restaurant on Highway 34 North. She lived eight miles from town on Holloway Creek Road.
On the way, they drove through “The Flat,” a low flood-prone area near the river where many of Hadlow’s poorer residents lived. Sagging ramshackle houses lined the streets, and rusting wheelless cars sat in overgrown yards. Shady dirt side lanes snaked back into wooded areas where other homes hid from view. They passed a public housing development of tan brick duplexes with paint peeling from the eaves and screens falling off the windows. The only businesses were a barbershop, a couple of bars, and a funeral parlor. Nate had never been through this part of town and seeing the despair of the place did nothing to improve his mood.
