The Drifter Ch. 06

As I drove along Route Sixty-six past various stores, restaurants, and billboards, we were both quiet, lost in our thoughts. I knew Avalon was about forty miles from the Black Mountains and that we'd soon be there. I saw a sign that announced we were entering Death Valley. Carla held my map on her lap while we drove past the sparse vegetation, mostly Joshua Trees, sagebrush and odd shaped cactus. Dusty bronze colored hills rose from the flat land. They created deep valleys and basins that looked like dried up lake beds. The sun was hot and the blue sky was cloudless. Large birds circled high above us and I wondered if they were eagles or hawks. I looked out at the mountains that seemed to be surrounding us. We were still on Route Sixty-six, but the highway was twisting down a steep hill deep into a valley, and then it became flat again with open barren land on both sides that were surrounded by ragged cliffs, high hills and dunes.

Carla studied the map, moving her finger. "Looks like Hesterville is not too far."

I knew that Death Valley was well below sea level. I looked out at the high cliffs and the changing vegetation. Only a few cars and trucks passed us going in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, I drove past a hand painted red and white sign that said, "Avalon Theater–five miles."

"Did you see that sign?" I asked.

"Yes. Looks like we're almost there," Carla closed the map.

Five minutes later we passed another brightly colored sign, "Avalon Theater--two miles."

Soon, I saw an old splintered sign that said Entering Hesterville in faded letters, but Hesterville was crossed out with a thick black line and above it Avalon painted in red letters.

I continued driving until I came to a crossroads and saw a small sign with an arrow pointing to the right that said, "To Avalon."

"Why do you think she changed the name of the town to Avalon?" Carla asked when I made the turn.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll find out. I think Avalon is connected to the King Arthur legend and has mystical connotations, but that's all I know. Anyway, it's strange, and probably illegal, to decide to change the name of a town."

Within minutes we drove into a town of dilapidated wooden buildings on both sides of the street. An old gas station with a dangling Esso sign was on the corner and it reminded me of Jim's gas station. I drove slowly down the street and saw it was one block long—not much of a town. Several old cars and rusted pick-up trucks were angled facing the sidewalk, a few with flat tires. Half of the buildings were boarded up, or had broken windows, but the street was not littered with trash, and it seemed like the sidewalks had been swept. I was surprised at how neat and clean the town seemed despite the faded and splintered buildings and broken down cars and trucks. One building was an old hotel with a torn awning and a sign above it with the word Hesterville Hotel crossed out and Avalon written over it. Next to it was Dot's Cafe. A small red sign on the door said closed. Next to the cafe was an old barber shop with one of those old red and white barber poles. On the other side of the street was Al's Hardware with a rusted bench in front and then, next to the store, an old bank, with rusted bars on the front door and windows.

Carla was quiet and looked at everything with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. As we drove passed the old, shabby buildings, I saw the town was one long block and wondered where we would find Anna. It didn't look like there were any people in the town, and yet it didn't feel abandoned. I was baffled.

"This is spooky," Carla said, leaning forward. "How could anybody live here."

"I don't know, but it looks pretty clean. Seems like someone is living here."

Then I saw a building at the end of the block that looked like a theater. It was brightly painted and almost glowed in contrast to the other buildings. It had an art deco appearance, a style that was popular in the thirties and forties. It was painted a bright yellow with green trim. It had a small marquee hanging over the sidewalk with the words Avalon Theater painted in bright red. When I parked in front of it, I saw a small ticket booth painted in the same yellow and green with a small sign on the window--Ticket Office opens at seven-thirty. In back of the ticket booth were two doors with shiny brass handles leading to the inside of the theater. On the front of the theater were two large posters of a woman in a graceful ballet pose wearing a short, pink fluffy skirt, white tights and pink toe shoes and the name Anna Polovna printed in bold black letters. There was also a large poster leaning on an easel --Swan Lake--Tonight at Eight."

I looked at Carla and could see her startled eyes as she read the signs and stared at the theater.

"I don't believe my eyes. I never expected to see this theater," I said.

"This is unreal.It's freaking me out." Carla's eyes were wide open.

"I wonder if Anna is inside." I was unable to take my eyes off of the posters.

"There's one way to find out," Carla said. "Lets go inside."

Just as I opened the truck door, an old dark skinned man with a bushy white mustache covering his upper lip came out of the theater. He was carrying a broom and started sweeping. A wide brimmed straw cowboy hat shaded his eyes. I was sure he was Mexican. He looked startled at first to see me walking towards him with Carla slightly behind me. He stopped sweeping when he saw us, then immediately started sweeping again, ignoring us and seemed strangely unconcerned that we were there.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a woman named Anna." I spoke softly.

"She's resting for her performance tonight." He glanced at me then continued sweeping.

"A friend of hers sent us to see her. It's important that we meet." Carla said.

He looked at Carla then at me and nodded. "I will tell her you are here and see if she wants to see anyone. She just finished rehearsing and is resting, but you can come inside and get away from the heat." He leaned the broom against the box office and walked into the theater.

I glanced up and saw there were many light bulbs lining the edges of the marquee and wondered if they worked. I imagined them lighting up the area around the theater at night.

When he returned, he waved us into the theater.

"What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Josh and this is Carla."

"Miguel," he answered and glanced again at both of us but didn't say anything.

We walked through the narrow lobby covered with a bright red carpet. On both walls were dozens of photos and posters. Many of them were glossy, theatrical photographs of a young ballerina with dark hair in a bun, a narrow face with her arms, hands and fingers extended gracefully. The colorful large posters advertised the names of various ballets performed by Anna Polovna. I was dazzled as I looked at them. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Giselle, Don Quixote, Romeo and Juliet. Each of them had pictures of Anna Polovna either solo or with a male partner in tights. Several said Carnegie Hall, Boston Opera House, Radio City Music Hall, La Scala and many other theaters in foreign countries. I saw a few framed posters of faded newspaper articles. One headline from the New York Times read, "Anna Polovna Thrills at Sold Out Performance."

What was a famous ballet dancer doing in a ghost town? How did this brightly painted theater appear in Death Valley? I was mystified and remembered Jim warning us she was a character.

"I don't believe my eyes," I said and turned to Carla after reading the article and then looked around at all of the posters that lined the lobby.

"This is amazing," Carla said, looking at everything. "I don't get it."

Just then Miguel came back from inside the dark theater and waved to us. "Come, Senor with me. Anna will meet you." He held the large door open and stood aside as we passed him.

When we entered the dimly lighted theater and stood at the rear, we saw a wide center aisle that descended to a stage. On both sides of the aisle were fifteen rows of seats that were upholstered in a dark maroon material. There must have been a hundred and fifty seats that looked in excellent condition. A red carpet leading to the stage was immaculate and above the auditorium was a large chandelier.

"Look." Carla stopped and pointed.

Painted on all of the walls above us was a balcony that circled the theater with a wide variety of men and women painted on the wall. The men wore tuxedos or suits and the women had gowns with sparkling necklaces. Some wore glasses or had small binoculars in their hands. Some of the women wore large fancy hats with feathers. The balcony had a painted brass railing and the front was colorful and intricately detailed.

I was stunned.It was beautiful and bizarre mural that went all around the theater. Someone had spent a great deal of time painting it. Carla's eyes and mouth were wide open as if in awe.

Miguel waited for us in front of the stage. After a few minutes, we continued walking down the aisle towards the dimly lit stage which was draped on both sides with long maroon velvet curtains. At the rear of the stage in the pale light was a huge painting of a lake, trees and several swans which I assumed was the set for the evening performance of Swan Lake.

"What a beautiful theater," I said to Miguel when we stopped at the front. I looked back at the red upholstered seats, the chandelier and at the painted audience in the balcony, unable to believe what I was seeing.

"Who painted the balcony and all those people?" Carla asked.

"Mosa," Miguel answered. "She is from the Mojave tribe. She is an artist and she painted the people for Madam Anna."

"Madam Anna," I repeated.

"Yes, Madam Anna."

We followed Miguel through a heavy curtain on the side of the stage and walked up a narrow stairway to a door with a big yellow star painted on the dark wood and Anna Polovna written in gilded letters above the star. He knocked and waited.

"Come in, please." Her voice was low, somewhat husky and reminded me of what is called a whiskey voice. I detected a European accent.

When we entered, we saw a thin, fragile looking old woman leaning back on a small green couch with her legs extended the length of it. Several colorful pillows were behind her. She was wearing a green satin kimono covered with large painted flowers. Her high cheekbones were colored with pale pink rouge. Blue make-up covered her eye lids which were lined with mascara, but nothing could hide the dark bags under her eyes, or the wrinkles lining her face. I noticed her hands were bony with blue veins and long thin fingers with the nails polished bright red. Her hair was dyed black and tied in a bun. I guessed she was in her sixties.

"And who may I ask are you?" she asked in a deep, husky, accented voice.

"I'm Josh and this is Carla. Jim told us to come here. He has an old gas station neat Oatsville."

"Ah yes, Jim, a dear man. He helped me when my car broke down several years ago."

"He said you could help us," Carla said.

"Help you?" She narrowed her eyes.

"It's a long story, but the police are after us because they think Josh kidnapped me, but he didn't. I ran away. He's helping me."

"Ah, so you want to hide here, is that what you want?" She nodded and glanced at me.

"Yes.They have pictures of me on television and they know our license number. We have to stay out of sight. It's all a big mistake."

While Carla spoke I looked around her dressing room and saw a small dressing table with light bulbs surrounding a mirror and silver containers of makeup, but I also saw a bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass.

"Would you like a drink?" She noticed where I was looking. "I could use a drink. Then we can see how I can help you."

"That sounds good."

I stood up and walked over to the table and asked Carla if she wanted any. When she nodded no, I poured the bourbon into Anna's glass and into one I found on top of a small refrigerator.

"There's ice in the refrigerator," she said.

"You have a beautiful theater," Carla said.

"Thank you, my dear. Yes, I love my theater."

I found the ice cubes and put them in our glasses and noticed several empty bourbon bottles on the floor next to her dressing table.

"Thank you so much," she said when I handed her the drink.

I raised my glass to Anna in a gesture of good luck, but we didn't click glasses or say anything.

"I'm so delighted that you like my theater. I am performing Swan Lake tonight. I hope you can attend, although I believe we may be sold out."

She took a sip of her drink.

"We would love to," Carla said.

"So you're running away, young lady. May I ask why."

"It's hard to explain, but I was being forced to be someone I wasn't. I felt trapped trying to fit everyone's expectations. I had to get away. That's why I took off with Josh when he was working at my grandparent's ranch. I've never done anything like this."

"And you, Josh what's your story?"

Before I could respond, Anna had finished her drink and held her empty glass out to me. "More."

I was surprised by her demand and could see she was used to being catered to. I took her glass and refilled it. When I handed it to her, she smiled but didn't say thank you.

"Now tell me your story."

"My story is not that interesting. I'm just taking a trip...working my way to California...taking one day at a time, then I met Carla a few days ago and here we are."

"Yes and you have found Avalon and my theater."

I glanced at Carla who was staring at Anna as if she was looking at an object in a museum.

"I saw all of your pictures in the lobby and read the newspaper articles about you. You were famous. A big star." Carla's eyes were wide with fascination.

"Yes, I have had a wonderful career and still do. I was on my way to Hollywood to become a movie star. I wanted to be on the silver screen and dance for the whole world."

"But why are you here? This is a ghost town." Carla leaned forward. "I don't understand."

"I know it must seem strange to you, but I was inspired. You see, I was on my way to California when my car broke down again. I ran out of oil and my wonderful Buick just wouldn't go any farther. I had all of my savings with me. I made a great deal of money as a ballerina, but I don't trust banks. My father lost a fortune in the Depression, but that's another story. I am world famous, as you know, but I was now competing with younger ballerinas and that's why I decided to go to Hollywood. But my car broke down in this town. I was stranded in Death Valley. There was no one around and no telephone. I got out of my car and walked up and down the street to see if I could find anyone to help me and then I saw it--this old theater. I still don't know why, but I decided to walk in. It was unlocked which I took as a sign. The theater was dirty and filled with spider webs, but suddenly I knew I wanted to stay here. It came to me like a bolt of out of the blue and I knew I was meant to bring this theater back to life. It was as if God spoke to me and that's what I have done thanks to Miguel and Mosa and a few other people who believed in me. I've never been happier."

"But this is a ghost town,"Carla said. "I thought you wanted to perform for the whole world...that's what you said."

"I still do, but I fell in love with this theater. I followed my dream to have my own theater. I believe the world will come here to Avalon to see me perform."

She took a deep drink and emptied her glass, then looked down at the ice cubes, and then suddenly swung her arms out wide. "See, I have made a beautiful theater where I perform all of my favorite ballets to wonderful cheers and applause. All of my performances are sold out. Often I take a dozen curtain calls. You will see me perform Swan Lake tonight. I will leave tickets for you at the box office."

I looked at Carla who was still staring at Anna. We were both spellbound, but I was also concerned about the police finding us. I wondered how she survived when her car broke down and no one was around, but put that thought aside.

"I'm fascinated by your story, but is it possible that we hide here for awhile?"

She narrowed her eyes and looked at me and then at Carla. "Yes, of course you can hide here. The police won't come here. They think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I know exactly what I am doing. They're angry that I renamed the town Avalon, but now they ignore me; however, my fans adore me and that is all that matters."

"Good, you seem happy."

I glanced at her empty glass and remembered the empty bottles I saw on the floor next to her table.

"I am happy...very happy. What could be better than having one's own theater...This is a dream come true."

She finished her drink and handed me the glass. "Just a little more."

"You're lucky," Carla said. "I hope I can make my dreams come true."

"Just don't let anyone or anything stop you," Anna said. "They will try, but you have to defy them...that's the test."

"Test?" Carla asked, narrowing her puzzled eyes.

"Yes, of your determination and character. Nothing must stop you."

I refilled her glass and listened. I knew what she meant because I had been tested many times.

"Where can we hide?" I asked, anxious to find out.

"There's an old trailer in back of the theater. It's empty now but clean. That is where the carpenters I hire stayed. My trailer is next to it. You can stay there for as long as you need to. Miguel will show you where it is, but now I must rest."

"That sounds great," I said and finished my drink. I stood up, then put the glass on the dressing table, "Thanks for the drink. I needed that."

Anna nodded and took a sip of her drink. Though she had been drinking a lot, she did not seem drunk. She sure can hold her liquor, I thought and realized I was a little woozy.

"I'll leave tickets for you at the door. You will be my guests."

"Thank you. I look forward to seeing you perform tonight."

I stood up and put my empty glass on the table and glanced at myself in the mirror. I needed a shave and saw my shaggy long hair was almost to my shoulders. I straightened my faded baseball cap.

When we left her dressing room, we walked through the theater. I looked up at the mural of a balcony filled with painted people, at the chandelier, then saw Miguel dusting the arms of the seats. He was moving through one of the rows of chairs towards the rear of the theater. I could hear him humming. At first he didn't see me, but then looked up when I interrupted him. He glanced at me, then at Carla, but did not stop dusting.

"Excuse me, Miguel, can you show us to the trailer out back. Anna said we could stay there."

"Si, senor," he said, but continued dusting.

"Would you mind showing us. We've been on the road all day." I know he heard the insistence in my voice, but continued dusting.

"I don't need to show you. Drive your truck around the corner and you will see a pink trailer. Next to it is the old workers' trailer. It is unlocked. It will be hot, but there is an air conditioner. I have too much to do to get the theater ready for tonight." He took a weary breath and went back to dusting.

When we got back into the truck, I sat and looked at the theater, then at the poster of Anna Polovna. I looked back at the empty street and the boarded up buildings, the scattered old trucks and cars, then glanced at Carla who was looking out the front window, deep in thought.

"Well, here we are." I reached for her hand.

She turned and squeezed my hand. "My adventure is getting pretty weird. I never thought I'd see anything like this."

"Me either, but at least we have a place to hide."

"Do you think she's nuts?"

"Probably, but so what? She has her own theater and she seems happy. That's more than I can say for a lot of people."