The Last Tribe (45 page)

“The decision in front of us is
whether or not to leave Sal a note about meeting us in Hanover.”  Todd looked
around the circle of people again.  “I want to leave a note.  A simple note
that reads, ‘We went to Hanover, N.H.  Highways 95N to 91N to Norwich, VT
exit.’  No ultimatums about leaving his drugs behind, no language that asks him
to come, just simple words left here, maybe on his car.” 

“I agree.”  Melanie said quickly.

“I do too.”  Emily echoed.

Kelly, Peter, and Bernie agreed. 
Solange, Ahmed, and Jamie dissented. 

Sal was thrown a life line.

Bernie addressed the circle. 
“Thank you for doing this.  I don’t know if my words swayed anyone, but I
believe this is the right thing to do.”

Solange nodded, “I voted against
the note, but if people believe we should leave one, I agree.”  Solange walked
over to Todd and Emily, putting her arms around the two of them.  Her head was
between theirs, and she whispered in their ears, “I hope you do not think I
voted against you. I voted my beliefs.  I am not against you, ever.”  She pulled
back and kissed each of them on the cheek.  “Let us get ready to leave
tomorrow.  I do not like this city.”

She turned and walked towards the
soccer game.  “Antonio!”  She said loudly.  “Have you never played futbol?  I
cannot believe your foot skills!  Come over here, and give me that ball!” 
Solange wore tight jeans with a tight sports hoodie that accented her figure.  Her
hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it bounced back and forth as she
strode towards the soccer game.  She was a gorgeous, confident woman, and even
Emily watched her as she walked away.

Emily turned and punched her
husband in the shoulder.  “Don’t get any ideas about that girl.  You’re still
mine.”

“Me?  What are you talking about? 
You were looking at her more than I was.  She kissed you too.”  They hugged
each other and gave a quick kiss.

“Really?  Come on, get a room.” 
Melanie groaned. 

“Wow.  I mean, all we did was hug
and kiss.”  Emily said back.

“Don’t listen to her, honey.”  Todd
gave Melanie a sneer.  “I have to think about food anyway.  It’s almost five. 
We need dinner, and get the camp packed for tomorrow.”  He stuck out his tongue
at Melanie before walking towards the U-Haul trailer.  Todd had a fun idea for
dinner, and pulled a kettle grill onto the street.  He went over to the kids. 
“Okay, break in the game for a few minutes.  I need firewood for the grill. 
Everyone grab a few pieces of dry wood from the park.  Not huge pieces, just a
few each, and bring them back to me.  We’re having a cookout tonight!”

A cheer arose from the kids.  They
scattered to get branches.  Solange looked at Todd and asked the obvious
question, “Cookout?  What do we have to cookout?” 

“Grilled ham, baked beans, and
macaroni and cheese.”  He grinned at her.  “And we have graham crackers, chocolate,
and marshmallows, so there will be s’mores for dessert.”

“I look forward to the day when we
hunt for meat.”  Solange frowned.  “Canned ham does not sound like something I
want to eat.  I did not eat canned meat in Ecuador.”

“Trust me, you’ll like it.  It’s
good.”  Todd walked back to the grill whistling.  He had a five pound bag of
charcoal he pulled from the trailer and placed in the bottom of the grill.  It
was a light the bag brand.  The coals were presoaked with lighter fluid.  He
needed the extra firewood to heat the large grill, but the small bag was
perfect to get the fire started. 

One by one the kids brought armfuls
of sticks, twigs, and a few logs, until there was a pile of usable wood stacked
next to the grill.  Todd selected smaller twigs and medium branches, laying
them across the bag of coals.  He looked at Cameron, whose nose barely came to
the top edge of the metal cauldron.  “Would you like to start the fire,
Cameron?” 

The boy’s eyes lit up and his mouth
opened in an “oh my” expression.

“Sure.”  He said excitedly.  “But
I’m not tall enough.”

Antonio offered a hand.  “I’ll hold
you up, little dude.  You light the bag.”  Antonio flipped his baseball cap
around so the bill pointed backwards, picked up the little boy, and hung him
over the kettle grill.  Todd lit a long twig and handed it to Cameron.

“Put the flame at the edge of the
paper bag.  Once it’s on fire, you can drop the branch on the pile.”  Cameron 
held the flaming stick with both hands as he hung in the air.  The rest of the
kids were standing close, watching Cameron light his first campfire.  He stuck
his tongue out as he concentrated on touching the flame to the red and black
bag. 

“It’s not going to burn me is it?” 
He asked, pulling the flame away from the bag.

“No, dude, you’re good.  Just light
the fire, we’re all hungry.”  Antonio encouraged him.

Cameron re-focused on the flame to
bag task, and after a few seconds, saw that the bag was on fire.  He let out an
“I did it!  I did it!” and dropped the stick onto the pile.  Antonio made an
airplane noise and zoomed Cameron around the grill, landing him next to Jay and
Brian.  “Did you guys see that?  I lit the fire!”

“That was awesome.”  Jay told him. 
“Let’s go get some more wood for your fire!”  Before Todd could tell them he
had enough for the night, the kids ran off to gather more wood.

“I can always put it in the grill
for next time we use it.”  He said to Antonio.

Antonio’s transformation from cold
and angry street kid to warm and helping teenager was nothing short of miraculous. 
Ten hours earlier he was a punk who was only interested in helping himself. 
Tonight he spun a four year old around like an airplane.  Todd was astounded at
the change.

“Tony?”  He asked, still a bit
intimidated by the tough kid from the Bronx.

“Yeah.”

“So what made you change so fast? 
What switch clicked?  Why were you angry at 7am and now you are playing soccer
with the kids?”  Todd had to know.

“Well, getting beat up by a girl in
front of you helped.”  He chuckled, “but it’s choices, you know?  My life has
always been about choices and roles.  When I lived at home, I had good parents,
father and mother, two little brothers and a little sister.  We were poor.  I
made some bad choices, hung out with the wrong kids.  I could never bring that home. 
When I was in the house, I had to respect my parents, and I loved my little
brothers and sister.  When I was at school, well, I had to be the guy you met. 
When my family died, I didn’t have the family role anymore, I didn’t need to
show respect, and I fell into the bad group I had from school.  They lived
longer, they helped me steal food, they helped me stay alive.”  Antonio looked
at the tray of food Todd readied for the grill.

“Dude, are we eating canned ham?”

“Um, yeah, is that okay?”

“If that’s what we have, that’s
what we eat.”  He stated.  “Anyway, I’m with this bad group of kids, stealing
and doing bad stuff while all hell is breaking loose around the Bronx.  I guess
I just stayed in that mode.  I thought being a badass was what kept me alive. 
When Sol slapped me in the face she told me in Spanish, ‘this is your family,
you don’t disrespect your family, you know that.’  And she was right, I did
know.  Family kept me alive this winter, not being a badass.”

“Jamie told me you were always good
to the kids.” 

“Well, yeah, I mean, what kind of
dick is mean to little kids?  I’m gonna watch them starve while I have food? 
Ahmed?  He’s a grown man.  He needs to find food, but Cameron and the girls? 
They can’t get food.  I’m not going to let them starve.  That’s just evil,
dude.  There’s a difference between badass and evil.”

Todd nodded.  “So what do you think
we should do about Sal?”

Antonio’s face, which up to this
point was cheerful, became serious.  “That dude is evil.  I’m sorry, but he’s
mean.  I’m not saying you haven’t known mean people before, but you probably
haven’t.  I have.  There was this one guy in my gang?  He liked to torture
shit, animals, fish, anything that he could see suffer.  It’s like, if he could
make something else’s life suck more than his, he was making his own life
better.  I don’t know, that’s probably giving this dude too much credit, like
he knew why he was being evil and shit.  Anyway, he was evil.  You wanted
something really bad done?  You go to Edgar.  Dude sent shivers down my spine. 
I avoided Edgar.”  Antonio noticed the cans of baked beans and picked one up. 
“Dude, I love baked beans, sweet.  You pour them over the ham.  The sweet with
the salty, that’s a great meal.”  He put the can down.

“Sal is a little like Edgar.  Sal’s
snapped, he doesn’t give a shit about anyone.  He’s at his apartment right now,
probably high as a kite, not giving a crap about us.  That dude is stone cold
evil.  He hasn’t dropped a damn pound since I met him.  He’s been eating food
and keeping his weight up, watching that little girl Bridget go from a fat
little obese girl to skin and bones.”  Antonio saw the look on Todd’s face. 
“Yeah, you didn’t know?  She was a fat little girl, one of those kids you would
look at and be like ‘why is a five year old so heavy?’  Look at her now?  She’s
what?  35 pounds?  Sal?  He didn’t care a bit.  He would stroll into the
seminary, high, full of food, talk about doing this, helping out with that. 
Bernie would get excited about how Sal is finally coming through, and then
poof, Sal would be gone again.  He doesn’t want to work.  He doesn’t want to be
around other people.  He is trouble.”

“So what do you think we should
do?”  Ahmed, who walked up to the fire, listened to Antonio’s assessment of
Sal.

“Me?  I’d leave his ass.  I’d put
sugar in his gas tank, put him at the back of our caravan, and watch his car
sputter and die while we keep on driving.  Ain’t no room for a guy like that in
our group.  He don’t want to be in the group anyway, so why pretend?  Cut him
loose.”

Ahmed patted the kid on the back. 
“Can you help me get some pots for the beans?” 

Antonio nodded, and they walked
towards one of the RVs.

“Ahmed, Tony, wait a second.”  Todd
walked to them.  “You two are in charge of the Mac and Cheese.  We have oil
instead of butter, and you have to use the goat’s milk, but please make five
boxes.  People are hungry.  Let me know when you put the noodles in the boiling
water and I’ll start grilling the SPAM.  I can heat the beans in a pot on the
grill.”

“You got it.”  Ahmed replied. 
“We’re on it.”  He turned to Antonio and started talking about the Ellis Island
trip.  The boy nodded and engaged.  It was their first conversation in all of their
months together.

Jamie and Peter were back in their
chairs as Melanie, Kelly, and Bernie set the tables for dinner.  Solange,
Avery, and Emily talked as the younger kids played soccer. 

Todd lit the second fire pit. 
Peter and Jamie still had the first one blazing near their chairs.

“I see where you are going with this,
Todd.  I like your idea.  May I borrow some of your wood pile?”  Peter stood
from his chair to help.

“Absolutely.  The sun is going down
and the temp is going to drop a bit, let’s have both fires going, and we can
eat around them and my kettle grill.”

Jamie stood.  “Well, I guess it’s
time for me to do something today.”  She followed Peter to the back of the
trailer. 

Todd opened the ham using the flat
key on the side, working it around the tin container.  He cut thick burgers
from the loaves.  He set a pot of beans on the fire to warm.  The beans boiled
and sputtered within minutes, sending a sweet smell of brown sugar and bacon
into the air.  Ten minutes later the tribe enjoyed an old fashioned cookout,
sitting on blankets or chairs next to fire pits.  It was fantastic evening,
capping a fun and memory filled day.

Solange tried the SPAM, and after
smothering it in beans, agreed it was a fine meal.  The s’mores were the
highlight of the night. 

Everyone opted to sleep at the
camp.  It was late, and the seminary would be cold.  There were more than
enough beds around.  Kids and adults scattered between the two king beds,
pullouts, and couches in the RV’s, as well as the four rooms in the Plaza. 

Todd sat next to Emily by the fire
after everyone was gone.

“And just like that, we’re alone.” 
Emily said to her husband, holding his hand next to the dwindling fire.  “Are
you ready to start our new adventure tomorrow?”

“I’d like to think we’ve been on an
adventure for a few months.”  He chuckled back.

“Yes, but tomorrow we are getting
to Hanover, at least I hope we get there tomorrow.  Anyway, that was your plan,
get to Hanover and start a life.  Tomorrow we’ll be there.”  She pulled their
clasped hands towards her mouth and kissed the back of his.

“I know.  Tomorrow is the start of
a new life.”  They sat by the fire, talking, and enjoying the quiet of each
other’s company before walking into an RV and the last remaining bed.

Sal left his meeting with Peter and
walked to his apartment across the park.  He swallowed his favorite mixture of
pills and vodka, and he passed out.  He awoke from his stupor as the sun was
going down.  The reds, oranges, and yellows were a beautiful scene outside of
his west facing window.  There was a small balcony at the front of the
apartment, more of an awning than a balcony.  Sal opened the window, unzipped
his pants, and urinated.  It was one of his favorite things to do, pee straight
onto the New York City street.  He felt the warm temperature outside, and left
the window open to let fresh air into the tiny room. 

He looked at his stash of food and
grabbed a can of beef stew.  The can had a pull top, and Sal ripped the ring to
expose his dinner.  He enjoyed eating cold stew from a can.  It reminded him of
his early days in construction, when he kept cans of stew in his truck on job
sites.  It was a time before he met his wife, before his kids, when he earned
cash bonuses for putting up the most drywall or framing out the most rooms.  Cold
soup reminded Sal of the days when his wallet was fat.

He sat in his chair and stared at the
sinking sun.  Sal picked an apartment looking straight down 71
^st
street, unblocked by high rises.  He liked to watch the sunsets each night,
when he was coherent enough to see them.  The west facing apartment also
minimized the stench from Central Park. 

After the sun went down Sal decided
to go back to the camp and meet the new people.  He put on his coat and shoes,
and walked towards 59
^th
, crossing the park on one of the old
pedestrian sidewalks.  As he approached the east corner of Central Park South he
saw the campfires, smelled the food, and heard the laughter.  He paused,
assessing the situation before he made his entrance.  There were a lot of people. 
Sal felt uneasy.  He could intimidate Ahmed and the women, but there was that
tall older man, Sal could not remember his name, and there appeared to be at
least one other guy.  There were a lot of kids and women too. 

It looked like a party, fire pits
blazing, people laughing and talking.  Sal was reminded of how his life used to
be and the parties he had at the shore.  He stood in the dark and watched.  Sal
was aware of his current reputation.  In a bizarre act of kindness he decided
not to spoil the party.  “Let them have their fun.”  He mumbled.  “I’ll come
back tomorrow for some breakfast, meet the new neighbors.”  He chuckled to
himself, “meet the new neighbors.”  He liked that line.

Sal stayed for another ten minutes,
enjoying the scene as the little kids toasted their marshmallows in the fires. 
The last time he saw them, they were frail and weak.  The New York group had
four good meals in their bellies and renewed energy.  “It looks like the gravy
train has pulled in tah’ tha station.”  Sal thought to himself.  “I won’t have
to hide food.  I can just eat all of theirs.  People will bring things to the
table for me, instead of me havin’ to find it myself.”  He turned and walked
back to his apartment.  “Enjoy your last night of solitude, Sallie, tomorrow
you join the group.”  He whistled as he made his way back to his studio.

When Sal got to the apartment, he
was bored.  When he was bored, he drank and took pills.  He used to smoke
things, but he ran out of those types of drugs long ago.  Sal mixed different
combinations of pills with Vodka, Goldslager, or whatever he could find.  An
hour after he walked through his door, he was looped and laughing at nothing. 
He sat back in his recliner giggling.  His laughter filled the studio and
echoed out of the open window for 20 minutes before Sal Torvale passed out for
the night.

Sal picked the west facing
apartment because he enjoyed sunsets, and because he did not like morning sun
through his window.  He slept late, another benefit of his new life.  Today his
eyes opened at 6am because the window he left open had his room temperature in
the 40’s.  Sal stood up, peed out the window, shut the window, and curled on
his large leather sofa under several blankets.  He popped a quick pill to stave
off the headache he felt forming, and drifted back asleep.

His eyes opened again at noon.  It
was still cold in his apartment, and he did not have wood for a fire.  Sal sat
up on the sofa, letting the covers fall onto the floor.  He was fully dressed. 
He rubbed his forehead and eyes and looked at his watch.  “Let’s go see if the
new neighbors have a decent cup of coffee.”  He chuckled again at his new
neighbors line.  Sal stood, steadying himself by placing his hand against the
wall.  When the room finished spinning, he made his way towards the apartment
door. 

It was a solid fifteen minute walk
to the campsite from Sal’s apartment.  He used the time to shake out the
cobwebs lingering in his brain.  Whatever pills he mixed, he could never remember
the next day, had been a brutal cocktail.  They knocked him out.  He was still
groggy.  He was looking at the ground when he walked right off the curb onto
Fifth Avenue.  Sal stopped.  The RV’s were gone.  The trailer was gone.  There
was a small SUV on a car flatbed sitting where the RV’s used to be.

“Holy smokes, Sallie, what have you
gotten yourself into now?”  He panicked.  He looked around frantically for the
RV’s, thinking that if he looked back and forth a few times, they might
appear.  Piles of trash, neatly stuffed into old cans, were all that remained. 
Ashes lay in the spots where the fire pits burned brightly the night before. 

Sal walked around the empty
campsite.  He looked to the spot where he and Bernie parked his car.  It was
still there.  He ran over and noticed a piece of paper stuck under the
windshield wiper.

He pulled the paper from under the
wiper and looked at it:  “Hanover, N.H. Highways 95N to 91N to Norwich, VT
Exit”

“What the hell is this supposed to
mean?”  He roared angrily.

“I helped those people survive for
six months and they leave me a cryptic damn note?  Are they out of their
goddamn heads?”  Sal dropped the paper on the ground while he thought.  “Okay,
Sallie, let’s get things under control.”  He walked over and sat down on the
steps of the Plaza Hotel.  He put his head in his hands and rocked.  He burst
into tears, crying uncontrollably.   “You really did it this time, Sal.  You
really screwed up.  This is like losing the house all over again.  You messed
up bigger this time.”  He began to scream.  “God dammit, why did this happen? 
Why can’t you do things right?”  He rocked back and forth crying and
screaming.  Suddenly he stopped and lifted his head. 

“Stay calm, you can figure this
out.”  His head was fuzzy, still fighting through the drug haze.  “They left,
but they gave me a note with directions.  I can just follow them when I want to
go.”  He looked around the campsite again, hoping there might be something
else.  Sal was alone.  The RV’s and people were still gone.

He became enraged again.

“I was bored with these people
anyway.”  Sal said to himself.  “I didn’t need them, they needed me.  I can do better
without extra mouths to feed and that stupid seminary.  Find the silvah
lining.”  He thought.  Sal stood and used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his
face and the snot from his nose.  He walked down the steps to his car.  He
turned the key and the engine zoomed to life.   He peeled out of the parking
spot next to the plaza, leaving thick black tire marks as he headed back to his
apartment and his sanctuary.

The piece of paper Sal pulled from
his windshield blew down Fifth Avenue. 

Three weeks later Sal was in a
parking garage to siphon fuel into his car.  He tried to open his gas flap,
repeatedly pushing a button on the dash to pop the latch.  When it would not
open, he walked to the back of his car to inspect the flap.  As he wiped dirt
and grime from the car, he noticed a smiley face along with an A and P etched into
the paint.  As much as he tried, Sal could not pry it open.  Antonio had glued that
tank flap shut the night of the cookout, sealing the threads of the gas cap below
for good measure.  The teen left his initials to let Sal know who had done the
deed, a final insult from the people who left Sal behind.