Cardinal Meadows. Episode 2

“I’m sorry Mr. Sommers, we might want to consider amputating your leg before the bacteria spreads further.”

Psalm 88:3 I am overwhelmed with troubles and my life draws near to death.

I had arrived! At the bottom of the canyon road was a place called “Bonners Trading Post”, an older mobile home that had been converted into some sort of convenience store. Next to it, a large steel building with a hand painted sign that read “Farm Supply”. I went inside the store to confirm the directions to my dream home. I was greeted by a woman who came from behind the counter, a thin, attractive, 30ish blonde. She sported a leather belt with a large silver belt buckle that depicted a horse running around a barrel. Though I’d never met one, her patched jeans, worn boots and button up shirt all spoke “cowgirl”. As she turned to address me, she smiled, and then quickly put her hand across her mouth. It was unfortunate, but her smile revealed that she was missing a couple of upper front teeth. She turned, reached into her back pocket, and slipped something into her mouth.

When she turned back, she had a perfect smile. She was in the middle of answering the second half dozen of my questions when she stopped mid-sentence and stared at me.

“Hey cowboy, are you alright?”    

 There was no way that she could have known the reason why I was turning pale. I was gripped by something she had said moments earlier.

“I thought they’d torn that rat hole down a year ago.”

 I think I would have rather heard a doctor report: “I’m sorry Mr. Sommers, we might want to consider amputating your leg before the bacteria spreads further.”

Being confident that she wouldn’t need to dial 911 for an ambulance, she said “So you say you bought the Meyer place? Funny, that ‘For Sale’ sign has been hanging there for years. I can’t believe you were able to read a phone number off of it. So what are going to do, put a mobile home on it or just pitch a tent?”

It was getting worse by the second. I didn’t dare tell her that I’d bought the place basically sight unseen. Instead of answering her question I excused myself and went out to the car. God, please God, it can’t be that bad, can it? I steeled myself. Of course it couldn’t be that bad. I was holding the pictures in my hand. A drinker would have steadied themselves with a couple of shots. No such luck. I took a swig of bottled water and pulled out my internet map. My place was only a couple of miles away.

I kept one eye on the road and the other on the odometer. I couldn’t see the house from the road, but I did spot the badly faded “For Sale” sign, nailed to a dead apple tree next to the road. This must be the place. I turned down the rutted gravel driveway past rows of overgrown and half dead trees. I could see the white outline of a house through the grove. I comforted myself. See, she was wrong. There it is, no one’s torn anything down. I let out a deep breath. I’m finally here. I parked the car as close to the house as was safe. There was junk everywhere. It looked as if someone had ransacked the house and its belongings. I could tell from behind the wheel that I needn’t bother asking for a key- the front door was hanging wide open. Now I could see why the girl at the store had thought it had been torn down. The place was a mess. I didn’t want to get out of the car. To get out would mean that I might be committing myself to something (to what, I didn’t want to imagine). Behind the wheel I was safe. Out there, beyond my drivers door, lay untold hardship and surprises of the unwelcome variety. Finally I convinced myself that if nothing more, driving two thousand miles demanded me taking a tour of the place.

The junk pile stretched around the house. A water heater here, an old TV there. Piles of rusting chicken wire. The crunch of broken glass met almost every step. Broken glass, ugh. I looked down the entire side of the house. Each and every window had been broken out. It kind of reminded me of the blonde at the trading post- she would have been a little prettier with the original windows.

It was the same on both sides of the house. I didn’t dare go inside. I looked for a place to sit. Sitting being my auto response to being overwhelmed. I found a short stump near an outbuilding. I plopped down, I grimaced, and then I sat some more. What more could I do? The one thing I didn’t want to do was think. Thinking required energy and imagination. In the middle of that non-thinking session, a quietly spoken word broke through the static. PRAY. Pray? Now!? I don’t feel like praying. I feel like dying. But I knew that the suggestion was not one that I’d conjured up. Okay then God, what am I supposed to be praying about? About how bad this is? Well it’s bad, okay? And no, I don’t know what to do about it. I should have gotten some advice and I didn’t, and now I’m paying for it. What else is new? Maybe I should use the gas card and drive back to my mother’s. This is just way too much to…

The crunch of gravel giving way under a vehicles tires broke into the one way conversation. I looked up and saw a beaten up compact pickup truck parking next to my car. Visitors...great. I didn’t want to get up off the stump. Geez, I thought, can’t I catch a break here? Is that a hippie? Well, it had long hair and a beard, it was wearing sandals and it had a beer in both hands. Before I could rise to my feet, it spoke.

“Hey! It looks like I’ve got a neighbor.”

I stood slowly, and before I could utter a response a cold beer had been thrust into my hand. I looked down at the open bottle. Some of its contents were missing.

“Oh,” it said. “Sorry about that, I opened it on the road, so as to have it ready. I accidently took a swig. It’s okay isn’t it?”

What could I say? “Sure, it’s fine, thanks.

“Wow, it’ll be nice having someone across the road.” He reached out his hand to shake. “I’m Spooner. My friends call me ‘The Spoon’.”

I limply grabbed his hand. “Leonard. My friends call me...” (What friends? I didn’t have a friend in the world.) “...Lenny. My friends call me Lenny.”

“Dude! This place is great! Look at all the great stuff. I mean I really wanted to buy it myself, but couldn’t come up with it, if you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know just what you mean.”

“Cool man, totally cool. Hey, Cindy down at the Trading Post just told me that someone had bought the place, I guess that’s you, right?”

“Right.”

“Cool, very cool. So, is it just you or do have a family or something?”

“ No, just me.”

“Righteous, a single brother, very cool. Hey dude! You hungry? I’ve got a chicken and some rice cookin’ in my crock pot, whatta you say we pow wow bro? Like I said, I’m just across the road.”

“Aaaa, well I wasn’t sure if I was going to be staying or not.”

“Staying? What, you got to go meet somebody with your moving truck or something? I mean dude, I can totally help out.”

“No, everything I own is in the back of my car.”

“Cool, very cool. I mean livin’ light, you know makin’ a small footprint… great philosophy man. You know I tried that for a while, but it didn’t work out. Know what I mean? So whatta you say we grab some chicken and come back and get you moved in?”

“Aaaah, I’m not really hungry…”

“Dude who needs to be hungry. It’s chicken.”

“Yeah, well, I…”

“Yeah? Well let’s go.”