Natasha and Edgar had only weeks left until the economic super storm hit.
If they did nothing, they would simply get evicted and live under the bridge.
Natasha got a job, two days a week as a nurse’s aid. She had to lie and say the job was satisfactory, even though it was only 24 hours per week at minimum wage.
☼
A monsoon swept through. A dark wall of dust loomed, closer and closer, from the south. Winds howled and ripped lose anything not bolted down. Heavy rain and hail pelted the motor home. Lightning crashed overhead with deafening cracks.
The storms stranded them--looking out on torrential rain for days--only venturing out for essential activities.
☼
When the weather finally cleared, precious days had been lost.
The heat flowed from the Sea of Cortez to the Colorado River, to the Gila River, and up Quail Canyon. The temperature soared to 118 degrees in the shade. The electricity went out. They stewed in the motor home box in the sun. They had no money to hire an electrician. Edgar isolated the fault to the heavy duty, air conditioner circuit breaker. He removed it and drove to town. The RV supply house was closed, so he found a commercial electrical supply store near the airport. He new the wiring had been overheated too many times by Natasha running the hair dryer and the microwave, while the air conditioner ran full speed. Nevertheless, they would know how to proceed come Labor Day.
He had to steal some heavy-duty cable from a large trash gurney at a local construction sight. The fix worked.
While they still had a phone, Edgar sold his life insurance policies for $7,000. He sold his mother’s sterling silver and best gold china for several hundred more, in a parking lot in Phoenix to a shrew antique dealer who wanted to keep the transaction off the books. He donated some of his best paintings to Saint Vincent de Paul, along with clothes and a heavy safe. He carried the remainder of his oil and acrylic paintings, across the super hot RV park, and left them on the sheltered porch of the man who had driven him to the parts store, for an alternator, last Christmas Eve. He donated his homemade 6-foot artist easel and all of his art supplies to the camp recreation room.
☼
He arranged all of his fishing tackle and all but two of his fishing rods, along with his Gerard turntable, by the trash bins for camp residents to recycle. He did the same with his homemade Pentium computer, and scanner, after removing his hard drive and smashing it with a sledgehammer to prevent the FBI and Sheriff Arpaijo from searching it for any information that could be used as an excuse to apprehend them.
Edgar sweated in the 118-degree heat, his brain boiling. What began to formulate was that he had to get rid of everything he did not absolutely need. He thought of himself as a coyote caught in a trap. The coyote paw, his possessions, would only be surrendered, to the hunters, his creditors, when they caught up to him. Most of these goods had been paid off years ahead. He figured that notifying his creditors would possibly inhibit him from crossing the border. Besides, there combined value would not pay a month’s interest on what they owed.
His feet and back ached and every muscle cried out from the hard work. Sweat poured down from his head and shoulders. In the Arizona
☼
In the evenings, at sundown, they wearily trudged across the gravel to the recreation center. Too weary now for billiards and darts, they would spend time alternately swimming lazily in the pool and soaking in the hot tub. The Spanish Clarinet Players, Great-Tailed Grackles, whistled and clacked in the nearby trees--occasionally emitting harsh tones of “chack, chack.”
As the twilight faded, a large white owl passed through the early star twinkles.
As the desert heat began to normalize, more stars came out and bats flitted here and there, emitting their sonar chirps.
Edgar and Natasha absorbed these evenings in their memories. They knew all too well that these peaceful evenings could not last.
☼
Natasha, “Tell me again why you are throwing all our stuff away! We won’t have anything left.”
Edgar, “I don’t know. All I know is that something is going to happen after Labor Day. I’m not trying to deprive our creditors. It’s like--the best case scenario is that we get kicked out of the motorhome; I have a job with the sheriff; we file for bankruptcy; the sheriff fires me; I get arrested for passing a bad check; the sheriff puts me in his 118-degree desert tents; and you get mugged, raped, and murdered.”
“But you only passed one bad check for a five dollar haircut.”
“That’s all it takes! He’s not a nice sheriff and compassion only holds for fellow members of one’s church or family.”
“But, why are you throwing everything away?”
“Our basement and all our cabinets, including storage under the bed is full. Wherever we go, we’ll go in the car. I have to empty everything out and get rid of everything we don’t need.”
“Why can’t we just gather the things we need and go?”
“I have to get rid of most of the stuff so that I can inventory what’s left.”
Edgar wondered what the few heat freaks, who remained for the summer heat, thought of his activities.
One day the local husband of an outspoken nudist family accused him arraying his possessions for all to see just to brag about his wealth. “By the way, if you and the missus are interested, me and mine are willing to share our Tuesday and Thursday night all naked hot tub with you.”
“We’d love to join you, but I’m addicted to ‘Boston Public’ and ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’”
“Too bad! My Trixie could teach you a thing or two about anatomy.”
☼
The next day Edgar received a form letter from the sheriff--“ARE YOU STILL INTERESTED IN EMPLOYMENT BY THE SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT? If so, fill in the enclosed card and we will retain your application in our files.”
☼
Edgar grew dizzy in the 118-degree heat. The form letter almost got blown into the hot tub. “Oh shit! We can’t wait to see if they’ll want me in the next go round!”
He wearily trudged home on the hot gravel.
He sat in the Bounder driver’s seat, staring into space. He knew it was over.
He explained their dilemma to Natasha and drove to town.
He stopped at AutoZone and purchased a car-top carrier.
A biker stopped to talk to him as he installed the carrier in the parking lot. “I envy you--able to vacation in this sick economy.”
Edgar, “Not a vacation.”
Biker, “If I took off, they’d fire me.”
“I’ve been disenfranchised from pay checks.”
“I can dig it!”
“Goin’ a Mexico!”
“Friends there?”
“More ‘n I got here!”
“You got money?”
“Six thousand, six hundred.”
“Jeez!”
“I got a wife and a cat, and Social Security in seven months. With luck, I’ll get three thousand for selling my life insurance.”
“Sounds like you’re jumping without a parachute.”
“Exactly!”
☼
That evening Edgar and Natasha strolled around camp, before their hot tub. They watched the hawks searching for the wary ground squirrels.
Natasha, “If something goes wrong?”
Edgar, “We run drugs or get deported!”
“Jeeze! It’s more exciting than skydiving!”
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