< for email readers, please click on “view entire message” for full story >
“When I can no more stir my soul to move, and life is but the ashes of a fire; when I can but remember that my heart once used to live and love, long and aspire — O, be thou then the first, the One thou art; be thou the calling, before all answering love, and in me wake hope, fear, boundless desire.” ― George MacDonald
He appeared on the family farm in 1979 the way a young cowboy appears to want to ride a bull with no experience. He was wild, too confident and extraordinarily handsome. Susana was helping her mom hang laundry one afternoon when she first caught sight of Tony. The way he leaned on his truck, his cowboy boots, the firm handshake, the gorgeous smile when her dad called them over to meet him.
It began with a lot of staring and grinning. He was like a Tom cat. She, was just shy, awkward and naive.
Then one day, after a painful month of flirting, just as the sun was setting over the farm, he asked her if she’d like to go line dancing. “Sure, why not,” Susana said as if she had nothing better to do. He was on his way home, wherever that was, and she was walking past him with the folded laundry. And that. Well. That was it. The flame that ignited everything. Spinning into a life she never saw coming.
Rinsing her coffee cup, watching the cats enjoy the last fall days of hunting, from the small kitchen window, Susana wondered whatever happened to Tony. She honestly hadn’t allowed herself to think about him. Not ever. Not until Mark. I better figure out how to warm up the shed for them before winter hits, she thought. They were all living inside when they were young, and although she was responsible with them, they still carried a feral sense. Reminded her of herself. Fiercely independent, like the man she fell in love with all those years ago.
Susana had spent 43 years perfecting her pride. Not even remotely interested in computers or googling, whatever you call it, she decided to look Tony up. Feeling her chest tighten, she got her phone, opened the search app and typed in his name.
Tony Castillo.
A man whose last name means “castle.” He was no prince. Looks like he lives in California still. Blurry pictures that kind of look like him, if he was older, she thought. What’s he up to. She kept digging. Dog pictures, puppies, Goldens, Doodles. There he is. Smiling with Doodle puppies as if she was seeing him in 1979. Hummm, Antonio Elias Castillo, looks just like Tony. His dad. So sad, he died when Tony was a boy. Susana really didn’t know his mom, although she was at the wedding. Sweet enough. Susana remembered her face when she put the corsage on her wrist. It was as if she had never received flowers in her life. Apparently they struggled to make ends meet after she lost her husband. Tony had a few sisters. Susana never met them. Couldn’t be bothered to come to the wedding. They were much older than Tony when Antonio died. They moved on quickly, married, and left him to care for his mom. That was. At least, the story he told her.
“Would you look at that,” Susana stared. There’s Tony, looking close to her age, wearing the same kind of plaid shirt he always wore, holding puppies. Some woman sitting next to him, in a grassy area, looked completely out of place. Like the eighties called and wanted their perm back. Pelo Chinito. Guess she matched the doodles, Susana was laughing. Internet was so shoddy in her area. “No no, don’t do that roaming thing. Ugh. This is why I don’t do the internet Beauty.” “I end up at the library. Do we have time for the library?” “Nah. Gotta get to work,” she said out loud. And why so many puppies? huh. What did that blurry picture say? Something like Golden Acres, the best bred? Figured he’d end up doing something completely opposite to her, Susana thought. Dog breeding, designer dogs, even cats, bunnies, you name it. It’s big business. Big money. Big dumping. She despised the thought. “Glad he’s been out of my life girl,” she said, Beauty looking up at her knowing Susana was headed out the door. “Okay mija, you know the routine.” “I’ll come check on you and the gang during my break.”
Mark helped her rebuild a sturdy fence, entry gate and lock, around the grass area of her trailer. With everything that happened, he was offering olive branches as if he owed her his life. Between mourning his mom, a quiet service at the family cemetery, visiting Jefferson in a memory care facility, not far from the hospital, and work, he was antsy. Unable to get the farm cleaned up to sell, due to the investigation, he was desperate to stay busy. For now, he’d saved enough money for several months of dad’s care.
"“Adios Amigos, Amigas.” “Dont make a fuss,” Susana said, “I don’t want the neighbors to complain you hear?” The trailer park was very small, but for the most part they were trained well and she left many busy things to play with. They were a good bunch, looking after each other and lazy as could be.
It was a nine to fiver four days a week. Susana had just enough time to use the small library before closing. She couldn’t help but see if their one computer was available. There seemed to be a lot of pictures of Tony. He looked like a womanizer. Lots of pictures dancing at events with various women over the years. What was he? a professional line dancer? Weird, she thought. But that 80s woman kept appearing in pictures too. Why did she look so familiar? Susana thought. Her skin was stunningly beautiful. Holding a puppy, Susana noticed her nails were long and manicured fancy, with white tips, plus she wore a big diamond, encased in a gold cocktail style monstrosity on her wedding finger. Must be a good business, thinking about how Tony was left to earn all the money, while his mom mourned and cleaned for a living. Desperate people do desperate things, or at least that’s how she saw breeding in today’s world.
Money corrupts. Susana didn’t see a lot of good coming from the money makers. Especially in government. Everyday, it seemed the news uncovered scams. But no one cared. They were hooked on the same outcome. Happy with leaders who preached but did nothing. The evidence of suffering was hard to ignore, but she guessed most people did. They ignored. Phones replaced heads. Stardom replaced humility. Ambivalence replaced doing the right thing. She wondered who the monsters were. Good intentions get the best of us too. Yeah, she thought.
The weekend was upon her and it was time to make the monthly trip to see Papa and her brothers. Their families. She always wanted to be an auntie. Rescue, plus work, limited her time and although she had no regrets, Susana realized deep down, the animals were her family. She couldn’t travel with them all. They used to visit her before Papa needed memory care.
When Mark found out, he offered to watch the pets, “No matter what.” Anytime you need me.” “Okay, thanks. But you know you really don’t have to volunteer to do everything for me?” said Susana. “I forgive you, as much as I need to forgive myself,” she said. “You? What is it that you could possibly need to forgive yourself for Susana?” Mark said. As she was closing the gate behind her, “forgive myself for staying away too.” “I’ve kept a distance from everyone and everything for well over 40 years.” “God knows I tried too.” “Maybe we are more alike than I thought.”
“Really? you know you’re going to have to explain this a bit better, right?” he said slightly yelling. “Drive safe. See you tonight.” “I’ll have your back as long as you let me.” Mark closed the gate.
Two hours later Susana made it to Clovis. It was noon with a late day apricity. Winter was coming. Parking was the same. The free one. People on the street were the same. Maybe worse. Smell? Definitely worse. Carrying some extra clothes she had been collecting, Susana began the 10 minute walk to the facility where Papa was. There were more ramshackle RV’s parked where she couldn’t, more dirty children running around and more dogs in cages this time. Susana noticed most of them were puppies. Mom tied up outside of the cage. Studs dangerously wandering around digging through trash. She had an immediate flashback to her first rescue, which to this day holds the voice of a heavenly mother, saying, “you can.” When she thinks she can’t.
It sent her spiraling into a depression and eventually back to church.
Not long after she decided to stay in Keene, she was out looking for an apartment to rent. At 21, Susana was proud of her little savings. Not knowing the area, Susana decided to explore. Her brothers were kind to bring Papa’s truck to her and some belongings, until she felt like getting more. They really wanted her to come home.
Somewhat of a history buff, curious, she stopped at the old Keene Café which sat sunken in a broken parking lot, a field of Witches Shoelaces out back stretching for miles. Nothing had been built around it. It had been a landmark “pitstop” since the dustbowl days. Been closed and boarded up several decades. Susana noticed a half hung faded sign saying “museum coming soon.”
She got out of the truck to stretch her legs and take some pictures with an old point and shoot she carried in her purse. Half the time she erased them to save some memory on the old sd card. She didn’t believe in social media.
Susana remembered looking at the long stretch of highway and hearing what sounded like cries between the occasional cars racing by. Snapping a picture from the side, she could see old chainlink fencing out back glistening in the bright sun. With her cowboy boots on, the ones she was wearing when Tony left her, she walked around back. As she got closer she saw a white jiggly blob, of what looked like cats at first, huddled on broken concrete between old kitchen junk and weeds. Bent down, one hand clinging to the chainlink, Susana zoomed in on her point and shoot, and saw several puppies clamoring on top of each other whimpering their little heads off. She noticed a tipped over basket nearby.
Looking for a way inside to save the puppies, the blazing sun reflected a silhouette of a large object hanging against the fence like a white tattered sheet
Their nursing mother had been tied up on the other side of the enclosed back patio. Roped in a field of witches. With every natural instinct and strength given, she jumped and jumped. She made it. The rope was too short. She tried to reach them. To nourish them. To keep them alive. As God calls all mother’s to do.
What kind of sadistic human did this?
Lenticular clouds had spread over the Clovis sky the same as that fateful day in Keene. Scattered all around her like alien ships, Susana, wrenching in her tiny frame, dialed 911. She looked to be a shrunken Great Pyrenees, a discarded working dog and her precious babies. Sheriff arrived quickly, went out back, and threw up.
In that moment, a light switch of purpose went off. She had to do something. It took entering the church again, a lot of prayer, older women of faith, that would remind her of her mother’s resilience, and a mission to buy a home with a yard. The best she could do was a trailer. Her second one is her favorite, due to the bigger garden.
Scattering useful long sleeve t-shirts, all sizes, men, women, children, a few sweatshirts, women’s black leggings, men’s jeans, a handful of children’s shoes, various sizes, etc., so many barefoot children bouncing in and out of tents, Susana’s eyes suddenly met the same familiar woman with her mouth dangling open. She was talking jiberish to a man leaning over her, in a corridor building, within a few hundred feet of Papa’s facility. Noticing the filthy old jacket draped around her, the man was pulling at it saying something like, “everything you ever touched turned to shit.” “Where did you find this?” touching her jacket, “I don’t got anymore money for you to waste on your problems.” “Ya hear?”
Susana stopped to listen, looking up at the ships in the sky. “Jesus come,” she whispered, as a young teen on an e-bike brushed her shoulder, cursing her. Yeah, I know what you’re doing. Robbing the weak. Hurting them for fun. I see you, shaking her head.
She made her way to Papa’s room, had a wonderful visit with him and a catchup with her brothers and Papa’s main nurse. Sadly, they were all used to Papa not really knowing them, but he sure enjoyed sharing stories and rude jokes. Afterward, she’d follow them to Juan’s (“Carlos”) house for Ana’s cooking and a visit with the nieces and nephews. Francisco Jr. and Carlos each had a boy and a girl. They were all teens now. So interesting to hear what they were up to. Not one was trouble. An artist, athlete, math whiz and auto mechanic. “You mean none of you are interested in citrus farming?” she grinned.
As Susana said her goodbyes, she thought about that woman again, and the man bothering her. The nasty teen. It was hard to get their faces off her mind. Even harder to get the dogs off her mind. The RV with the sad goat living in a pen no bigger than itself. All the reasons. Childhood trauma, addiction, mental illness, domestic abuse, job loss, bad choices.
Entering downtown Clovis, she slowly drove past the corridor.
What Susana saw was the man in the pictures, on the library computer, staring straight ahead. Leaning on the wall, smoking a cigarette, he was watching the woman now lying on the curb clutching her dirty jacket against her belly.
Like an unresolved 43 year mystery she had no intention of uncovering, Susana, completely overwhelmed, hit the gas and headed for home.
In the end, she realized the earth was a profound place. Profoundly beautiful, profoundly spiritless, and somewhere in-between was an even deeper profound sense of longing. Stuck in time. She likened it to staring out the window on a rainy day wishing it would cleanse all the imperfection of the past away.
But too afraid to step outside.
Image at top: Ally Ramirez | Unsplash Image at bottom: Deborah T. Hewitt Music: A Lot More Free, by Max McNown The stories of animal abuse, throughout The Jacket, are true stories within the context of fictional characters.
