to rest, but right now I’m a little fearful of my quick decision to leave my life in Ashland and settle into an RV park as a cook. When I left yesterday I was full of confidence and exploding with a sense of adventure. Now I am beginning to wonder if I am just plain nuts. If I were a normal, stable, well-grounded, middle-aged woman, a crazy scheme like this would never enter my mind. I suppose I’ve chosen the unknown obstacles that life will throw at me in exchange for the predictable, daily nuances of routine and servitude.
I can still see and hear my sister when I was preparing to leave for this road trip. My mobile home was empty except for the large pile of items in the center of the living room ready to go into the car. I drove to her mobile home, four spaces down, with some yard tools and assorted house wares that I no longer needed in the large trunk of my new Suzuki Aerio, a gift from my two well-grounded real estate broker sons. “Denise, you can’t do this! What are you thinking? Do you really think someone’s going to just hire you on the spot? Where are you going? How will we reach you? You’re fifty-one years old for God’s sake!” Lori was crying hysterically at this point and threw the rake back into the trunk scratching the paint on my new car. Perhaps I was being a bit too casual about my decision to travel the national parks of northern California with a tent, $400, and two Chihuahuas in search of a fun summer job.
“I promise I’ll call you every day.” I lied in all sincerity. My hope was to calm her down a notch. In truth I could never call every day. I have no cell phone and I might not be near a phone booth at all times. Maybe this is a major part of her concern, but Lori did not have to work for pompous pricks. Lori was a retired postal worker, who is now on disability for all the surgeries and damage done to her body from carrying around fifty pounds of junk mail for seventeen years. I guess I’m trying to avoid physical and mental damage to myself at this late stage of the game.
Lori and I have always been very close. We have so much in common, our likes and dislikes in things to do, places to be or see, same tastes in food. I will miss our friendship, but I can’t expect her to take me on as a dependent.
I want to call Lori and tell her that I have a job and a place to live. I also need to call mom and dad and my two sons. I now understand their fear for me. I want to gleefully brag that I knew all would be well and put their doubts to rest. I look back at my car that seems too low to the ground. I hope all the weight inside is not going to hurt the suspension. Bonita and Bandito are watching my every move. It’s already getting hot and I’m very tired from last night’s ordeal.
Since I was truly stuck between a rock and an RV park, I knew that I would take the job. I really had no choice. I picked up the phone before I could talk myself out of it.
“Hi Lori! This is Denise! I got a job and a place to live!”
“You’re lying! It’s only 9:30.” She still sounds pissed off at me.
“I swear! I’m at Bud’s Creek at an RV park and this wonderful lady named Billy was so excited to meet me. She couldn’t believe her good fortune that I came in when I did. She wants me to be her chef here at her restaurant. Well, maybe not a chef as we know it, but her cook. Then, you won’t believe this; she said I could live in this empty fifth wheel behind the restaurant!” I’ve always over-dramatized things in my favor.
“Oh my gawd!” Lori screamed.
“Lori, it’s so beautiful here! They have a lake with ducks and the fifth wheel is practically new!”
“I’m so relieved! How did all this happen? I’m sorry I didn’t have any faith in you.” She sounds genuinely sincere, so I open up as well.
“I know. I’m sorry that I made you so nervous. You know me after all these years. I guess I follow a different path that even I don’t understand.”
I call my sons and mom and dad, making it brief, and finish the chore of comforting the family fears.
As I hang up the phone, I feel a tingling sensation on the back of my neck. Reaching back to rub the spot, I feel moisture on my fingers. I turn my hand to look at my fingers and am startled to see a few drops of blood. What in the hell? At closer inspection of my fingers I notice the teeny tiny body parts of a mosquito. I do hope this is not an indication of a mosquito problem. Mosquitoes absolutely love me! I don’t just get an irritation from them, I get a violent reaction. I’m sure the pond has a lot to do with that.
My need to use a restroom at the moment leads me to explore my new surroundings for a few minutes before I leave to the motel. As I drive slowly toward the bathroom building, I notice a tan chunky gal with a bit of a biker look to her, moving sprinklers around the park. She sets one with a spray of at least fifty feet right in the direction of a family’s beautiful recreational vehicle parked and set up for their visit. I watch it blast the RV’s outer patio wall, spraying the table set-up, chairs, and ice chests. She hops in her golf cart and rides away, chugging the last few sips of a beer. The only remains of her is the thump, thump, thump of the sprinklers against the RV, breaking the silence of the morning.
I park next to the restroom and walk toward the door. There is a table next to the entry that has an ashtray with a cigarette burning, two open beers, and an empty one lying on its side about to roll off the table that is piled with various cleaning supplies. I hear two female voices from inside a doorway marked supplies. I proceed to enter the restroom door and find it locked. A sign on the door reads, “Please keep restroom door shut. For guests of Hacienda ONLY!” At this point, one of the voices startles me.
“You furget yur key?” She has the cigarette now and is holding the beer. She looks to be in her early thirties and has the worn out look of one who has been drunk all her life. “No. I actually don’t have a key just yet. I was just talking to Billy about a job for the summer.” I answer.
“Cool! Doin’ what?” She seems to be a harmless, happy drunk.
“She said she needs a cook.”
At this point the other gal comes out of the supply room. She seems more normal, but is not interested in who I might be.
“What’s yur name?” The gal with the beer asks.
“Denise.”
“I’m Ruby and this is Brenda. Sit down. Ya want a beer?” Ruby is so excited that she accidentally bangs her shin on the bench, but did not seem to notice or feel any pain.
“No thanks, it’s kind of early for me.”
“It’s twenty-four seven for me. Billy could really use a new cook. She’s getting pretty tired. Been doin’ this fur far too long. She’s got Bubba but he can’t keep doin’ all three shifts. He’s still got all the trash to haul and mowin’ the grass. Terry, his girlfriend, has been doin’ all the watering even though she doesn’t really work here. And Ray isn’t too well. Here, let me open the door fur ya. We have to keep it locked cause so many travelers and campers think they can just pull in here and use our restrooms then leave.”
Brenda doesn’t say anything, and seems like she just wants to finish up her job and get going.
Ruby opens the door and follows me in. The restroom has five large shower stalls and four toilet areas. They must have just finished cleaning because it smells like Pine-Sol. I decide on the first stall.
“So ya gonna take the job?” Ruby’s voice echoes loudly against the walls.
“I think so. I’m going to stay in Brandon tonight to think about it.”
“God, I hope ya
