The strident chirruping of cicadas in the afternoon heat grates on nerves. The sun scorches people and buildings alike, and dark red dust coats baked ground which only a month before had been gelatinous mud. The river, across the road, carries echoes of children’s laughter and splashing from over its banks. Louise’s husband, John, is back for the weekend; he has managed to secure a position in the forestry. But it is in a small town almost five hundred miles away by car. And without a vehicle, he can only get home when there is enough money for the train.
Only one person is missing from the gathering. Joe, Louise’s older brother. He was supposed to be home almost two hours ago, and Grandma is annoyed because the chicken paprikash, and the pogacsa, are almost done. Grandma worries about Joe because he has a new Canadian girlfriend, a real floozy, so he probably doesn’t eat properly on the nights he is with her.
John looks tired and gaunt; he’s been away for almost four weeks. He definitely has not been eating properly. Louise, her mother, father, husband, and three baby boys live in a dingy apartment in Keewatin. It has been six months since the birth of the twins. Louise has a job working in the local hospital laundry. Grandma watches the babies while Louise is at work, but Louise misses them terribly and doesn’t think they get the kind of attention which only a mother can provide.
Her brother Joe works at the mill in town and in a few short months has already been promoted. The promotion isn’t a surprise to anyone in the family because Joe always moves up through the ranks quickly.
Louise is taking advantage of the fact that John is home, so has called a family meeting. She is determined that her family will stay together. Long-distance relationships do not work.
In the middle of the meeting Joe pulls into the driveway with a new truck. Not off-the-lot new, but new to him. It is the very first vehicle that anyone in the family has ever owned. His arrival is cause for excitement, not just for the family, but for the tenants in the other apartments. Everyone admires the new set of wheels. He takes the family for a ride, one, and two, at a time.
Louise, Grandpa, and Grandma cannot drive; none of them has ever even been behind a steering wheel. Joe and John learned to drive while they were in the Hungarian military. But that was five years ago and their skills are rusty at best. The truck hops through intersections until they figure out the gear shifter and clutch.
The pungent aroma of paprika and crushed chillies drifts through the late afternoon air as supper sits simmering on the stove top. Temperatures have hovered in the high 80s all week, and the once dingy apartment, now freshened with a good scrubbing and a coat of white paint, is too hot. The tiny windows are open to try and catch a hint of breeze, but the only thing they manage to do is allow the ubiquitous dust and mosquitoes into the rooms.
“You either find a place for us all to live when you go back, or don’t bother coming back,” Louise says as she throws down the gauntlet. “We’ve been here for six months and this is only the second time any of us has seen you.”
“It isn’t that easy,” John explains. “It’s a new mining town. Housing is scarce. It’s a rough place. It’s a rough place for men, let alone for women and babies.”
“If it’s so rough why are you working there?” Grandma asks, her voice tinged with concern.
A decision is made. John, Louise, Grandma, and the babies will all move to the new town as soon as housing can be secured. Grandpa makes a half-hearted attempt at putting his foot down. “I have the opportunity to open a business here,” he complains.
“It’s a booming mining town,” Grandma says. “Business will be better there. The opportunities will be better. My daughter needs me.”
Joe walks in the door just as the meeting finishes; he has been joy riding with his floozy in the new truck. “I was talking to some guys downtown,” he says. “They say that there are good prospects at the mine in that town. I will come with you.”
Grandma complains that the paprikash is overdone. John eats as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks. The babies are somnolent in the late afternoon heat, but startle awake and start to cry when a loud “Ha-OOO-ka!” blares through the open windows. “Tell your floozy if she does that one more time she will have to deal with me,” Grandma says.
Joe rushes out the door and they hear a woman’s strident laugh as the truck pulls out onto the dusty road.
Image Credit
Photograph © Gab Halasz
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