The Outsider Ch. 15

"Gerardo was the only one who could keep Alex under control. For whatever reason, Dad doesn't want to deal with him. But now...you know...with the baby and everything...Gerardo doesn't have any time to worry about him either...and Dad's worried about his job...so he doesn't have any time...and Alex is getting himself jammed up at school..."

"You've tried talking to him about it?"

"Talking? To Dad? Are you kidding? Like Dad's gonna listen to me about Alex? Like he's ever listened to me about anything? Like he ever will?"

The two women snuck sips from their glasses before setting them behind their backs. Rosa sighed and changed the subject.

"So, what do you think about what happened to Emilia Asfura?"

"Emilia? What happened to her?"

"You didn't hear about it? It was all over the news."

"No. I don't watch TV in Davenport. Don't have time. So what happened to her?"

"She got shot. It was a hit. Her boyfriend was late with a drug payment or something...and so they sent this guy up from Mexico to shoot her...you know...to send his group a message."

"Shit... So they know who did it?"

"Yeah, but as soon as he pulled the trigger he went back south. He jumped across the border and called up here from Nogales. They even e-mailed a picture of her...with her face all blown up...you know...to her boyfriend."

Ruthie did not know how to respond. She had known Emilia from sitting with her in several classes. Emilia had been a student with more promise than most of Ruthie's other classmates, but towards the end of Ruthie's senior year she started dating a member of the same gang that Alex was hoping to join. She was a year younger than Ruthie, which meant that she couldn't have been any older than 17 when she was killed.

Rosa picked up her glass of tequila and drained it with a single swallow. "You're lucky you got that scholarship and got out of here. You are so fucking lucky. You don't have to deal with this shit everyday like I do."

"Then you need to get out too, Rosa. Tell your dad to fuck himself and just get out."

Rosa paused, but finally decided to trust an important piece of information with her cousin:

"I am. I am getting out...but you can't tell this to anyone...what I'm about to say to you. Promise?"

"I promise."

"I joined the Army. I'm leaving for boot-camp right after Christmas. I am getting out of here. I was thinking about doing it anyway, but it was what happened to Emilia that made the decision for me."

"But...the Army?"

"I'm going in for six years. I've had it...with my dad...with Alex...with not having any money...I've had it!"

"But...aren't you worried about going to Iraq? ...or Afghanistan?"

"I probably will go there...one of those two places. The recruiter leveled with me about that. But right now I don't care. I just want out of here."

Ruthie sighed, because for her the pending departure of Rosa was another piece of rotten news. Rosa was the one person in her family she felt had some common sense and some intelligence, and with whom she could hold a conversation. She would be very sorry to see her go. She also felt that Rosa was making a rash decision out of desperation and had not thought out what she was getting herself into. Yeah, Rosa, right now you might not care about going to Iraq...I bet you'll feel different about things once you get there....

Rosa looked at Ruthie's glass, which was still half full of tequila.

"Are you gonna drink that?"

When Ruthie shook her head, Rosa grabbed the glass and drained it with a single swallow. Ruthie knew she would have to spend the rest of the evening looking after her cousin, because it was obvious that she was drunk.

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As soon as Ruthie left campus, Mike got into his own car and drove to his father's house. He was not thrilled about the prospect of yet another tense Thanksgiving, but he knew that he owed it to his parents to spend time with them. He also wanted to see his sister and get an update from her on what was going on with Mr. Sinclair. His father did not look too good on Sunday when he brought Ruthie to the house.

The Sinclairs were the type of family to whom traditions and holiday rituals were extremely important. While some families facing crises tended to drift away from traditional activities, that was not how Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair chose to deal with the financial collapse brought about by the loss of the family business. Instead, holiday rituals, like flying the flag and wearing a tie every day, were ways that Mr. Sinclair could hold on to portions of his old life and stay connected to the family's roots. As always, there would be the traditional Thanksgiving turkey, complete with a stuffing recipe and a pie recipe that were unique to the Sinclair family and had been part of Thanksgiving dinners since the family came to California in the 1930's.

Still, Mike's time away from home and his education allowed him to observe the deterioration taking place in his family's house. It wasn't just the physical deterioration of the residence, but also the psychological toll on his parents. The Sinclairs were not having any open fights, but it was clear that the loss of their financial status had finished off the emotional bond between Mike's parents. Just like holidays, they went through the motions of their marriage just because there was nothing else for either of them to do. But, just as living without his business was wearing down Mr. Sinclair, Mrs. Sinclair's morale was declining because her husband was distant and unresponsive. She did not feel that she really could talk to him, nor did she feel there was anyone else she really could confide in. She knew a couple of the neighbors and a few women from church, but they had their own problems. Even if Mrs. Sinclair did feel she could confide in the women in her life, they would have listened out of courtesy, but not really cared what was going on.

To a very limited extent Mr. Sinclair did confide in Mike's sister Colleen, so if anyone knew what was going on with Mike's parents, it would be Colleen. Mr. Sinclair had rented a storage unit in Colleen's name, and little by little was moving various items from the house that he felt were important for the family. When the lender foreclosed, the items in the storage unit would be out of reach because they were in Colleen's name, not Mr. Sinclair's. Colleen told her brother that from what she could tell, foreclosure could not be too far off because the storage unit was almost full. Mike could observe that the house had a sterile look to it, the family photos and heirlooms were gone and the only items remaining were furniture and appliances to which his father had no emotional attachment.

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There were the usual prayers before the Thanksgiving dinner. Out of respect for their parents and the history of the family Mike and Colleen went along, but they exchanged glances during the prayer...both thinking...what in the hell do we have to be thankful for? Like God's gonna turn things around for us? Like God's gonna make Mega-Mart and the blight they brought into our lives just vanish? Like God's gonna show us some sort of alternative?

As the family ate their silent joyless dinner, Mike wondered how many other families across the US had done the same thing, have a prayer for the final Thanksgiving dinner they would ever eat in their own home...praying to an indifferent God who had turned his back on them...and on an entire nation.

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One of the few family pictures still on display in the living room showed Mike and Colleen with Mr. Sinclair and their grandfather standing in front of Lincoln's home in Springfield Illinois. Mike's grandfather had died shortly before the Pharmacy closed. In fact, Mike suspected that his father had borrowed some money just to keep the business open a few extra months so that his grandfather would not live to see it go under. Mike remembered that the family had not taken any of their road trips since the pharmacy closed. It would seem obvious that the trips ended because Mike's grandfather now was dead and his father no longer had much money, but he knew that was not the real reason. Mr. Sinclair changed when he lost his business; it seemed that the life went out of him, his curiosity about the outside world buried under a pile of financial problems.

As he watched his silent moody father, Mike felt that in a way he already was dead. The Sinclairs' world was disappearing, and Mr. Sinclair was a part of that dying world.

Mike was a product of that vanishing world as well. And yet, much of mentality of the lost hopes of the US middle-class remained with him, especially the anticipation that through personal action he could change where his country was heading...that if enough people resisted, maybe Mega-Town would be prevented from totally taking over. The Sinclairs' world had included hope, which the past four years had not been able to completely extinguish in Mike...in spite of everything that happened to his parents.

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After they finished eating, Mike and Mr. Sinclair spent a couple of hours watching a football game. Football never held any interest for Mike whatsoever, mainly because he always hated the obnoxious thugs who played it. But, once again, out of deference to tradition, he went along, vaguely wondering how many more chances he would have to sit with his father.