tragicoptimist

the phone rings : she someone screams, crying. leon took the call trying to understand the sounds sputtering from the other side. he tapped his head and turned, what the fuck is going on, what’s wrong ? sarah was leaning on the front of the truck, half-emptied brandy bottle in hand. the bar had closed forty some minutes ago but they were still there, wasting outside under the dim stoplight intermittently flashing yellow.
in the dark parking lot hysterical shrills rose from the phone in pain. i’m fucking bleeding, valentina’s voice shrieked shallow through the speaker, i’m fucking bleeding. her screams pierced his ear repeating and repeating, i’m fucking bleeding. what ? valentina slow down, i can’t understand you, what happened ? but on the other side mats of black blood dripped down from her hair to her hand. he hit me, he fucking hit me on the head with a bottle. valentina’s cries began to drown down to agonized whimper. leon, agitated, paced through the parking lot. what ? who hit you honey, who ? brad did, brad fuller. she continued in broken phrases. he stopped me at an intersection and he. he blocked me in with his suv. he said cunt you cut me off bitch and i. i told him to fuck off and he told me shut up slut and he. he slammed a beer bottle on my head. i’m fucking bleeding leon, i’m fucking bleeding…
sarah was still standing against the side of leon’s truck, half hearing. she stared in confusion : what’s she saying ? leon turned away again, waving his hand in dismissal to concentrate on the conversation. brad fuller hit you ? yes, goddamned brad smashed a glass beer bottle on my fucking head, okay ? oh god my brain is bleeding. valentina was back to screaming, now more in anger than pain. vally, where are you at ? oh god i’m bleeding, i’m fucking bleeding. tell me where you’re at, damnit ! i don’t know, over on fourth street, near the monkey. the monkey was a popular pub where most of the small town’s young in-crowd hung out. overpriced beer and commercial dj music. hold on honey, i’m coming. leon snapped his clamphone shut and went to his truck. sarah get in, we gotta go. what happened ? get in the truck damnit, we gotta go. now. sarah jerked open the high door and pulled herself in. leon turned the key and floored the pedal. the rusty teal truck fired up and rage echoed in the deserted lot.
leon’s truck roared through the empty streets of the flat town. it was summer and the dry air pushed in strong through the open windows, smelling of summer wheat dust and hot tarred pavement. the interior was bare and warn like the rest of the vehicle. the thunder of the motor buried the world inside as it bellowed in through the rusty firewall and up from under the thin floorboard. the whole raw metal heap rumbled in anger. sarah could see the street racing by beneath her feet through the roughcut gearshift hole. leon commanded the wheel hard staring straight ahead. his jaws were clenched, his brow was low and he had the devil in his eye. she tried to speak. leon, what’s going on ? he responded unemotionally. you know brad fuller ? brad fuller the jock, brad fuller ? well, he fucking hit vally on the head with a bottle. leon’s voice scratched taxed over the motor after a long night spent smoking. is she alright ? is she alright – i don’t know, she’s fucking bleeding is all i know. an’ i’m gonna kill the pinche joto. tha’s all i know. leon didn’t look when he spoke. the wheels screeched as he turned up fourth.
leon was twentyfour. short and stalky, his deep brown skin and short black hair revealed his latin origins. his white father had left him as an illegitimate child with his chicano mother many years before. since then she had married another man and given birth to another little girl. leon grew up alone, separated by an invisible wall between him and the rest of his family. he always kept to himself and was a hard case. he had gotten by in school though never excelled. even before graduating he started worked as a diesel mechanic in the fields that surrounded the isolated farming town where he had spent his whole life. the dirt and hard work aged his body and mind, leaving him with strong arms, a scar that cut through his right eyebrow and a deep distrust of money. working under grease and iron he had seen how the field workers were exploited and ripped off by the landowning rancheros. one call to the migra and whole labor camps were chased off without pay after a full season’s work. for leon, brad fuller was another one of those. a rich gringo who fucked with anyone who crossed his path, protected by his wealthy father and his friends on the city council. he had been an all-star running back and continued playing throughout college on a football scholarship. after graduation he started managing a part of his father’s holdings but actually spent most of his time snorting coke and driving around in his thirtythousand dollar suv. the weekends were always the worst when he would stay out drunk and high with his circle of idiot friends terrorizing the town. this wasn’t the first time it had ended in blood. everyone knows everything in little towns but nobody does shit, leon thought.
his truck grumbled up and lurched to a stop across the street from the monkey. it was closed but there were still loud groups of people loitering under the bright lights of the brick façade. leon looked around and saw valentina’s sedan parked in the corner of the lot across the street. he slammed the door and ran over, sarah following behind. valentina was leaning on the side of her car holding a wet rag against the side of her head, partially held up by another dark figure that leon couldn’t yet discern. as he approached he saw that it was jack, a mutual friend. vally, leon stopped. she looked up and he saw her face and white blouse stained red. she reached out and put her arms around his neck, crying. jack, what the hell happened ? leon asked over valentina’s sobbing shoulder. jack pulled his hands from his ratty jeans held up by a heavy chain that doubled around his waste as a belt. man, i don’t know. i was over at the monkey and all of the sudden i heard some broken glass and when i looked over i saw fuller driving off and vally on the ground. so i ran over and i got some water for her. he pulled the dark cap from his head and wiped his brow with his hand. man, she was bleeding all over the place but i think it’s stopped now. leon could smell the whisky on jack but the sight of blood had noticeably sobered him. he arched back and lifted valentina’s head with a hand under her chin. you alright mija ? let me see. her face was tormented by the dull pain from her head and still damp from the cold cloth jack had prepared for her and the tears that were still glistening in her bright blue eyes. her doll cheeks were muddled with blood and smears of black mascara. jack, give me your lighter. he gently tilted her head to the left and pulled back a few mats of her wavy brown hair, thick with blood, and lit the bic in the air. she winced weakly as he tried to examine the wound. it doesn’t look too deep, he said, and it isn’t bleeding much anymore – heads just bleed a lot. he tossed the lighter back to jack and kissed valentina on her forehead. you’ll be okay, honey. you still have your car keys ? valentina reached over and opened her purse that was sitting on the coffin of her car. she took them out and held them in her open hand toward leon. he looked away. sarah, you okay to drive ? sarah didn’t say anything, she probably wasn’t in any condition to drive, but leon didn’t wait for her to answer. here, take her home he said. he stepped back holding valentina’s hands in his and said again you’ll be okay, honey. go home and take some aspirin and go to bed. i’ll come over in the morning, okay ? valentina didn’t like it, she cringed. but where are you going, aren’t you going to come with me ? leon looked at her in silence with his dark brown eyes. he took two steps back and turned without saying a word. leon, wait, where are you going ? valentina’s voice pleaded behind him. jack glanced at sarah knowingly and briskly walked past the two girls following in his direction. valentina slumped back against the car and sarah hugged her. she sobbed against her chest while sarah watched the two silhouettes cross the street and get into the truck. they sped off in the dark summer heat, most of the city sleeping.
brad fuller lived in an noble estate on the edge of town where the city stops and seas of wheat begin. leon knew this and he also knew that weekend afterhours usually finished there. jack knew this too and he knew what leon intended to do. neither said a word during the ten minute drive out. they didn’t have to. jack was no stranger to the silent war raging beneath the apparent civic peace that anesthetized his home. the idyllic calm of a small farming community, softly nestled in a green valley, with its wide-open spaces and recreational parks, its weekly farmer’s market and its downtown cafés, its homegrown pride and local baseball heroes hid the rigid social divisions that provided wealth and order to some and forced exclusion and violence to others. jack too was different. his family had moved out from an industrial suburb of pittsburg to live with relatives after his father had been laid off from a factory job. he was a city kid. he had shabby hair and road a skateboard, listened to punk music and read vonnegut. this was all before these things were sold as fashionable. but he paid for it. and even if he and leon belonged to different circles – jack with his band of rejects and weirdoes, leon with his vatos chicanos – they shared an unspoken affinity in their struggle for survival.
the truck skidded on the gravel at the side of the road outside. leon killed the engine and they heard the muffled sound of music contaminating the starlit hills surrounding them. they could see a handful of cars lining the driveway that lead toward the two-story brick construction at the end. leon looked over serious and after a brief moment reached down under the seats and pulled up a large dirty wrench from below. let’s go. his words were dense in the night air. they left the tattered truck and started up the way.
jack was following close behind leon removing his chian belt. without warning and without looking over, leon’s arm struck out armed with the wrench and disintegrated the window of one of the many cars parked along the right side of the long private drive. jack took two steps to the left but continued to shadow him. one by one, car after car, leon smashed windows in one swift motion. he never looked over, the deliberate rhythm of his march was never interrupted. and one by one, car after car, glass shattered and fell. shattered and fell. shattered and fell.
not two minutes later, but after nine smashed windows and windshields, leon and jack mounted the wide steps in front of the house. leon gave jack the same serious look he had given him in the truck a moment before without saying a word. the door splintered open with a single thrust of leon’s thick leg. it slammed against the wall and the bright light of the foyer stopped them momentarily in the doorway. a young blonde holding a red plastic cup recoiled against a short wooden table that displayed a porcelain vase below elegantly winding stairs. from her intoxicated eyes she saw leon’s wide shoulders heaving and his stern, brown face. before she could react leon entered and walked past her without giving her any notice. jack followed and she shrunk down in fear beside the table spilling the beer from her cup on her summer dress.
at the far end of the foyer there was another door framed in dark wood with an opaque crystal center. it was already unlatched but leon kicked it in with the same force he had used before. it swung open with a crash, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room despite the blaring sound system. inside there were groups of clean-cut, well-dressed kids in summer clothes holding cheap cups of beer, liquor bottles and wine coolers. they were strewed out among black leather couches, recliners and bearskin rugs. the walls were covered with shelves displaying trophies and family photos and there were bulky taxidermic busts of deer, moose and other dead animals peering out over the crowd. a decorative gun rack displayed several rifles above the mantle. at the far end of the room a sliding glass door opened onto a patio illuminated by the blue lights of an in-ground pool. no one was swimming.
leon looked around just long enough to identify the source of the glittery pounding noise. he made a beeline across the room and stood over the glowing stereo system while jack remained just inside the doorway. the people near the door who had noticed leon’s violent entrance were paralyzed and staring him like the animals adorning the walls. a few whispering confused questions to the ones next to them. the music from the stereo seemed absurd with no one moving anymore. one wide sweep of leon’s arm sent the stereo flying. the abrupt impact on the hardwood floor was the last sound it ever made. i fucking hate that song, he said as he stepped around to face the room. now he had everyone’s attention.
where. the fuck. is he ? his words were cadenced, concentrated. he scanned the room recognizing nearly all of the faces before him. a fucking high-school reunion, he thought. krystal and mary from the cheerleading squad, mark holdenbrook rodeo ringleader sporting the same wranglers in ninety degree weather ; all the various robbies and johns and nicks and courtneys, lauren in tommy hilfiger, brett in lacoste. and matt that fat kid always trying to fit in at the cost of being a joker to the royal court. they were all there like they always had been and always would be. only the people with a plan and a possibility got out of that town. those that remained either lived off their parents patrimonies, guaranteeing the survival of the species and social position or were trapped by economic impossibility and condemned to menial jobs serving the others. and the children of the have-nots would be made in their image, taking beatings in youth and suffering the humiliations of society proper in adulthood. they would spend their lives trying to get in, trying to find a piece of the american dream. and they too would work and toil so that one day their children’s children might make it, that they might have that off-chance they themselves never had. getting a full-ride to harvard or yale, that was impossible. but a government loan for the state university in the city, that was real. out, outside and up. over the sleeping valley hills, beyond the endless ocean of wheat fields, in another world where their hard work would be rewarded, where their talents would be recognized. a fighting chance to climb the social ladder. but these were american dreams and this was now. leon, in his dirty workclothes and his diesel stained wrench in hand, had given up on those dreams a long time ago. this was his world. facing this court, this jury of his peers. justice was staying where he should, holding his tongue. the silence of the noble savage as his tribe died long hours of hard labor. rewarded only the honor of the suffering and sacrifice of those who can’t. he was told this was leading a good life, living right, they said.
leon looked left and saw brad stride in from the pool patio. he looked calm and strong, confident. he idled at the other end of the room and stood with his legs wide and chest up. so now what, leon ? arrogance. behind leon another guest took a step in his direction, contemplating a rush. but jack stepped in front of him with his chain wrapped around his hand and dangling from his fist daring him to advance. don’t worry, they ain’t goin nowhere, are you now leon ? brad spoke without taking his eyes from him. leon took the invite and started to slowly walk in his direction. a natural path had formed between he and brad. the guests had instinctively shuffled aside to take themselves from harm’s way. and to have a better view of the show. so what, you come here to be a macho man ? you gonna come in my house. my house. and teach me a lesson burrito boy ? leon walked forward slowly, each step as deliberate as his five words had been. what, you all upset ‘cause i hit your bitch ? his words were mocking, unafraid. leon drew closer. and what you gonna do about it, vato ? where are the rest of your beans, taco ? leon come up under brad. he stood tall over leon, holding his arms apart and glaring down at the trash below him. whatcha gonna do now, hu ? whatcha gonna do ? leon stared cold. the world stopped. no one in the room moved, no one breathed. the heavy august air stagnated and the stars stopped shining over the fields outside. shit man, you ain’t gonna do a damn th….
brad’s body dropped without a sound. the wrench had past hard against his head, leaving him in mid-phrase. bright red blood flowed from his face to the floor. no one moved. leon spit down at brad. he turned toward jack and started back. still no one moved. then a rough voice came from the hall. police, freeze. leon saw the dead reaction in jack’s eyes. he was still holding his would be assailant by the front of his shirt with his chain clad hand raised in a fist and he pushed him to the floor to run in leon’s direction. he took no more than two steps when a gun shot rang out. jack stopped immediately. his face went pale and he lost all expression. he coughed feebly and a sputter of blood and saliva came from his mouth out on his lower lip and chin. he dropped to his knees.
instinctively, leon ran. he leaped over brad’s motionless body and flew into the night air under jack’s blank expression. the stone patio surrounding the pool gave way to a soft green lawn. it extended away from the house lighting and by the time he had reached the end of the natural green carpet he was in the dark. he heard the heavy footsteps of someone chasing behind him thundering against the warm stone. the equipment on the officer’s belt rattled after each step. stop or i’ll shoot. but leon wasn’t stopping. he knew that if he stopped there was nowhere to go. so he ran.
the soft lawn ended under his feet and he felt them sink into the familiar texture of a freshly harvested wheat field. the dry dirt crumbled under his speed and flew up behind him in a flurry of warm dust that dissipated quickly into the air. leon knew these fields. he had worked them temporarily a few years ago when the fullers’ regular mechanic had been sick. behind their estate, over the sloping hill and about a mile down, there was a dumping station down near the road. his last chance. as his robust legs thrust him up the first inclination of the hill he heard the scratching police radio fade off into the distance behind him. he turned to look, still running, and saw the fatigued figure of a man panting backlit by the house below.
leon came to the crest of the hill and saw the dim orange lights of the town smoldering behind him. the white august moon, half-full, glow quietly above him, illuminating the shadows of the valley below. just on the other side of the crest everything disappeared. there was nothing in sight but the rolling hills, combed dry in parallel rows like a zen rock garden. or ocean waves. leon had never seen the ocean but he imagined that it must be like this. the downward slope increased his speed and gave him the sensation of flying. he suddenly felt free and forgot why he was running. the last time he had run down the side of a field like this was a year ago, when he had first met valentina. with a fifth of tequila in his pocket he had driven her out to one of the fields he had been working on and drug her up a steep hill. they had spent a good part of that night drinking on the crest of the hill looking down at the town below. they had talked about who they were and what they wanted to be. and they had spoken with the joyful honesty that new lovers often speak with. in the end they ran down, hand in hand, laughing and shouting, free. reaching the bottom of the slope his memories faded. he jumped over a small irrigation canal and started up the other side. he stopped for one second when he realized he was still carrying his heavy wrench and threw it back into the canal. it made no slash and sunk out of sight.
once atop he saw the single streetlamp that created an eerie spotlight around the two low shacks along the road and intuited the round aluminum curves of the grain elevator against the sky. if he could reach it undetected he could wait out the night – tomorrow was sunday and these fields had already been cut – and make his way back to the truck. with any luck, the police would leave it there untouched since it was registered in his stepfather’s name. he could take it and drive. drive south. he could finally leave this open-air prison. yes, he thought, he would go south. to mexico. border patrol would only be happy to see another beaner go of his own free will. they wouldn’t even bother him about i.d.. and vally would understand. she might even come visit him. he knew his only possibility had finally arrived. he was going to get out. really, he had no choice. but this choice had been long coming. it was in his cards, dealt from birth. destiny, he thought, isn’t some inevitable path before you, some plan to be realized or god’s will fulfilled. destiny is the material force of the past moving against you, pushing you ahead from behind. the concrete wall of history that grinds in your blood and your bones, in the places you live and in the faces you see. the only thing that is impossible, after all, is changing the past. but that past determines your present, leaving you only a fleeting moment of freedom, one brief second when you can decide, when you can choose. and so he chose to run. he ran trying to outpace what was behind him. he ran from these people and this place. he ran from the police and from the two bodies that lay bleeding on the floor, maybe dead. he ran from his stained workman’s wrench at the bottom of the canal, his bond to that earth. he ran from that night and that life, he ran from who he was and who he was supposed to be. he ran from himself toward himself. he ran along the dark horizon to the only possibility given to him, the grain silo and mexico beyond.
there was single tree with a wide canopy that grew about fiftyfeet away from the dumping station, at the far end of the gravel lot. leon had lunched in its shade more than once. he stopped there and kneeled down peering out from behind the old trunk to make sure no one was there or coming. after a few minutes of catching his breath leon started low toward the storage shack. there was a minute window in the back that he could easily force open, slip through and pull himself inside. from there he could observe the street through another high window in the front and hold up for the night. he stared out over the crumble of the gravel lot. but halfway to the shack leon heard a car round the curve on the road that came around the hill from the fuller estate. his heart jumped and he nearly fell as the adrenaline doubled the force in his step and made him slip. he managed to keep himself upright with this hand but dove shallow behind the shack. he turned and rested his back squatting against the structure and tried to silence his breathing, begging the stars above him that whomever was in that car hadn’t seen him darting under the light. when he heard speeding car swerve in the lot and skid to a stop on the loose gravel he knew that hadn’t been the case. red lights began reflecting against the dull metallic cylinder of the silo and he heard the door open. one foot in the gravel and again, the same words. police, freeze. a bright spotlight now illuminated the side of the shack and the hill behind it on either side. chinga. seconds later another police car clamored into the lot coming from the other direction. he was trapped. you’re surrounded, throw out your weapon and come out with your hands on your head.
puta madre. leon exhaled heavily and dropped his head. he pushed himself up from his knees and turned around the corner raising his hands in the air. he chuckled as he stepped forward. alright, you got me you fucking pigs, you got me. blinded by the spotlight he saw the silhouette of the two cops behind the driver’s door with their arms tense and their revolvers pointed. and then he saw two flashes but heard nothing. he fell back onto the ground and the sharp gravel felt warm against his arms and shoulders. he lay there with his head back staring at the clear sky over the hill behind him and felt nothing. there was only the dry summer air around him and the stars shimmering far above.

Tagged America