Peter Maravelis - San Francisco Noir

“It looks like his ring cut your eyelid. But your eyeball isn’t scratched or cracked or anythin.” Alhambra stepped back, smiling. “Gonna hava shinerrr.”

“Crap. Come to the country. Be bucolic. Frolic. Man, this sucks.”

Alhambra fixed a gauze patch over Gina’s eye, handed her a package of frozen peas to put on her cheekbone, and set the kettle on the stove.

Gina lay back with her eyes closed. Half-dreaming, she heard the sound of chopping, then wood hitting the slate floor with a clonk , crunkle of paper, skritch of match, whomp of a fire starting-the smell of pitch pine and oak, the flicker on her eyelids of orange dancers, the whistle of the kettle. Peppermint ginger tea. Something gritty slid through her mind about rural livin bullshit and how it just ain’t true, but she let it drift away. “I miss you sometimes in the city, yunno? I got a friend, he been on the streets now for I dunno how many years, but even with him, I don’t see that reflection of who I am-like I see in your eyes.” She muttered, “Lonely.”

“You needa learn to be gentle with yourself.”

“Gentle? No.” Gina shifted, grunting. “Oh. Right. You can say that now cause you’re the medicine woman of the woods. Livin clean. Chop wood, carry water.” She took a gulp of tea. Gina thought she heard monsters roaring in the distance. “What the hell is that big noise?”

Alhambra laughed. “It’s the river! Cool, huh?”

“Not cool. Wheelchair perverts anda howlin river. And you. I mean, you gotta cowboy hat now. A full medical kit. A rifle?”

“No rifle. Just an old Ruger with the numbers filed off. It was a gift, because it’s a classic, like me.”

“What?”

“That’s what the guy said. I wasn’t all that pleased with the man, but the gun is sweet.”

Gina growled, “Convicts like us can’t have guns, Karen. Can’t have dope. Can’t do medical stuff. We aren’t allowed to protect ourselves. Not even if there’s wolves at the door. Monsters in the woods. Once a convict, always a criminal.”

Alhambra laughed, “There’s no monsters in these woods.”

“Ha. What you gotta gun for? What the hell you doin up here?”

“Safe haven, Gina. That’s all. Sanctuary.”

“Dayam. Sanctuary?”

Alhambra put her hand on Gina’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, that guy you clobbered isn’t a gimp. He uses the wheelchair as a prop so people give him money. Dude’s not even poor. His daddy’s in grapes and development. Gonna shut the river down-says there isn’t enough water to go around for the fish and all the people.”

Gina listened to the growling of the river. “Seem to me there’s plenty of water.”

“Not for these greedy bastards. They’re gonna make the river dry all up in the summer. Pretend it’s good for the fish, then sell the water for development.” Alhambra chewed on one of her braids. “Can’t stand to let people just live, gotta always make money.”

Gina looked up, her one eye huge and sad. “Used to be rivers in the city. In the Mission. All kindsa fish, too. My granma told me. She told me how she’d watch her uncles go off for a day of fishin insteada goin to school. They come home drunk. But sometimes they’d catch little trouts, then everybody would come over and…Well, it’d be great. All gone now.”

Alhambra shivered. “Rivers are an endangered species. That guy’s father maybe figures if the river dies, then his toad son come back home, become a wealthy lawyer.”

“Same no matter where I go.”

Gina took the package of not-really-frozen-anymore peas from her cheek, started to get up to put it back in the fridge.

“Siddown, you. I’m in charge here. Gimme that, it’ll be pea soup innabout an hour.” A frying pan sizzled as pancetta hit it, rattle of peas into a pot.

“Smells like hot dogs.”

“Hah. Remember when we try to learn how to give a guy head?”

“Oh yeahhhhh. Stuck hot dogs down our throats till we gagged, so we gave up and cooked em. I never yet have had occasion to use whatever it was we learned. You?”

“Sure! I’m up for whatever comes along.”

“Comes? Along? Oh yuck. Did you swallow?”

“Condoms are your friend, dimwit.”

“Not my friend. I don’t go that way.” Gina leaned forward, staring into the flames. “How long has it been since I hadda fire inna fireplace? Forever? Never? You do this a lot?”

“Every night this time of year. Drops to freezin. Sometimes, if I don’t bank it right, I need to start it up again in the mornin. But that’s not hard cause the embers are still hot.”

“You learn this up here or you knew it all already? Me…Well, I sort of figure if I don’t know it, I’ll fake it.” Gina shifted her hips, trying to get comfortable. “Like, I suppose I could make a fire…” Her voice faded. “Just never expected to need to know.”

Gina watched Alhambra cook. “We always at the mercy of rich fuckers. They want everythin to be their way-mean and narrow. Oh crap! I gotta call work! I just sort of up and left the city.”

There was a huge boom. And another. Another. Gina bolted upright. The light on the table blinked, blinked, blinkblinked, then fizzed. The house was dark except for the firelight.

“But it’s already dark, as you can see. They know you’re not comin in, Gina. Besides, power’s out. No regular phone.” Alhambra placed the pot of soup on the wood stove. “Don’t worry, if the phone lines didn’t come down, you can still call out.” Alhambra left the room, hollering over her shoulder, “Let me see if the land line is workin.”

“Land line?” Gina felt around for her pack. “Jeez. What’s a land line? A shortwave radio? I’m gonna call work on like a CB? Well, I gotta tellum I won’t be in tomorrow neither.” Her voice faded to tiny mutters, she peered out at the menacing tree shapes looming over the house. “Fuckin primitive out here. Hey, Karen? You realize I only have one workin eye and this is like purgatory? I can’t see shit now.” She didn’t mention that the trees were reaching mean spiky fingers out at her. Smaller voice, “Shit. Can’t find my cigarettes.” Gina sat back on the couch clutching her backpack on her lap. “And my eye is startin to hurt. And…” She began to snicker. “And I can’t get to work.” The snickers turned into laughter. “And I can’t call because they don’t hava shortwave radio. Hah. Haaaaaah.”

Gina grabbed the blanket loosely in her hands. “And I’m up here in total blackout boonie land with my best friend. Oh yeahhhhh.”

Alhambra came up the hallway carrying a small lantern. She said, “Phone lines are down.”

Gina leaped up, flailing the blanket in the air like a huge bat. “We’ll get the boogie man! You and me, Alhambra! We’ll scare im right back into the hellhole he keep comin up out of! Every smartass self-righteous bastard that ever EVER tried to make us small. Every shitmouth rich bitch who plays the I’m-entitled card-we will smassssh her. We’ll tear the prison walls DOWN, muthafucka, DOWN!”

Alhambra put the lantern on the floor, grabbing a corner of the blanket. She raced Gina out into the night, howling, “Down, muthafuckas! Get baaaaack! Mothafuckas!”

It wasn’t until they got right to the edge of the swollen river that Gina noticed she had no clothes on. “Oh my god.” She curled forward. “Karen! You let me go outside stark-ers.”

Alhambra leaned against the huge belly of a redwood, laughter making it impossible for her to stand on her own.

Gina wrapped the blanket in tidy folds around herself. She lifted her head with a haughty twitch. “You bitch.”

Too early in the morning, Alhambra put the kettle on a small butane gas ring, the hoo when it reached a boil woke Gina. “Coffee?” she said. “Still no power, so we’ll go into town for the next cup. Phones probably work there.”