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By chris Date: 2008 Mar 04 Comment on this Work [[2008.03.04.20.56.22878]] |
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Jake was a refugee from New York - a suburb of New York City, to be more exact. Like many who flee from that part of the world, he harbored a special affection for it - but only when at least a thousand miles away. That's the way it was for him. And he would describe it in those words, too, if he had anyone to talk to. But he did not. He was entering his fourth month alone on the ranch as caretaker. The real owner was frolicking somewhere down in far south Texas among the pink grapefruits and blue-haired old ladies, not to return until spring. Everyone had left Montana for places that were warmer, places where the sun shone more than a couple of hours each day. That's how he felt. It was on that first day of this fourth month that Jake became convinced that spring would not come that year. Something terrible had gone wrong with the normal passage of time and that was that. The snow came down. And then the snow came down. Nothing melted, even during the day. The surrounding mountains, the open range - all were unrelentingly white. Jake believed a new range had a appeared just over the northeastern curve of the horizon sometime over the preceeding months. He was now surrounded by mountains. He was distressed for a quite a while over all this. One night he even ran out to the barn with no shoes or socks on - his exposed feet and legs immediately numbing as they sunk deep into the white powder - and started the snowmobile in a blind panic. But just as calm must follow hysteria, he quickly calmed down upon realizing that he would never be able to tell direction in such a landscape. The roads and fences were all covered. There were no landmarks. Leaving the ranch meant cold death. So he stayed. He built roaring fires in the big fireplace, mixed martinis with the wealthy rancher's liquor, and began to appreciate his situation. Since spring wasn't coming, he realized that this had in fact liberated him. He read volumes of Byrd and Abbey and London and Lake from the ranch house library. He wrote long letters to ex-girlfriends, employers who had once fired him, his friends... And it snowed. One morning he woke up earlier than his usual ten-thirty and could see, through the bedroom doorway, a glow coming from the main living room. This wasn't unusual most of the time because it typically took all night for the fire to burn itself out - but he didn't make a fire last night. He stepped out in his bare feet, over the bearskin rugs that lined the hall, and into the huge room with the stone fireplace at the very center of the house. In front of the raging fire, sitting on the rug, was the figure of a woman. Naked. From the back he could see her long, luxuriant brown hair and, even in the poor light, the outline of a scorpion tattoo in the small of her back. "What the hell?!" But he must have thought this because no sound came out of his mouth. She wasn't from around here. This much he knew. Her curves shone prominently in the shadows. He found himself getting - what was it? - excited, in spite of himself. Jake's history with women was more spotty than a certain American President's foreign policy. Or China's human right record. He loved them but didn't know how to stop being a jerk. For the first several months of a relationship he could play the nice guy role to a t. Then he'd blow it - as predictably as snowmelt in May. She wasn't from around here. No, this wasn't another anorexic white chick from the University. All he could think of was something sleazy - the blurry memory of a hooker in Juarez. Too much tequila, too much sun. Too much time on his hands back then. She turned and faced him. Her eyes - also brown - stood out like big, dark marbles. Her features were as bold; her expression bespoke amusement, as though she'd planned this moment for a very long time. "It's me, papi." She smiled, knowing damn well he wouldn't recognize her. "Who?" Her eyes turned downward, her smile turned upward in the semi-dark. "I was sent for, no? Word got out that you were goin' loco up here," she laughed. "That you were gonna do something crazy, esse. They always send for me when that happens." His mind raced. Tulsa, OKC, Dallas, women he barely remembered, jobs he got then lost before the paperwork could even be processed. The glorious wreck of his life. He was almost proud of it. Then he knew who she was. The night in Albuquerque five months ago. The hitchhiker he picked up, the party he got invited to, the girl he promised to take away from there. Was it really a lie if you believed it? "Now you know." She smiled. Her accent made him melt. Albuquerque...yeah, Albuquerque. He made a note to himself to move there someday. Oh wait. He already did. Got fired from the call center job and split town. Shit, never did get that apartment deposit back either. But those Spanish chicas...fuck. Too many gorgeous women, too little time. "Well whatta you gonna do?" She was asking him a question. "Huh?" "I come here to take you back, papi!" "Back where?" "You know." "You're naked. And it's too early to start drinking. Stick around and help me with some things around here. Later we'll party, girl. I got booze for days." She just laughed. "Jesus, Maria y Jose!" She was getting exasperated now. "I ain't goin' outside if that's what you mean. You do know this is Montana in the winter, right?" "Really? Better look again." He walked to the window and parted the curtain. Even before he could take a good look he could feel that the glass was warm. Light flooded in. Outside, everything had changed. In one corner of the window appeared the hulking mass of mountains. Different mountains. Watermelon mountains. Three stubby black volcanoes dotted the seemingly limitless horizon to the west. "Es magnifico, no?" Panic gripped him, then he knew it was all going to be alright. All doors had suddenly opened for him. "They were open all along, esse." She answered the question he didn't ask. Magnifico... * * * * Jake's body wasn't discovered until very late that following spring. The rancher returned and found most of his alcohol gone (along with caretaker Jake) but otherwise everything else seemed fine. Or as fine as it could be. He discovered Jake's body along a drift fence not all that far from the road. There were the usual procedures to be followed, of course, but it was pretty basic. Went crazy, no doubt, he thought. Then he didn't think of it again. |