From
a four-way stop a dirty asphalt road split the land in two and vanished over
the rise of a hill. The words “AlBERtA DR” were scrawled near the intersection
in large white sprayed-on letters. Over
the curb a few sparse weeds leaned. Beyond them stood the white walls of an
abandoned home. A bare tree lay across
what remained of the porch and the yard, cutting off entrance to the home and
burying under it shreddings from other plants, houses, furniture, and garbage. The porcelain shards of a broken toilet bowl
caught in the tangle of the dead, browning moss that had clung to the tree’s
branches. Yellow caution tape fluttered past
two small pillows lying in the dirt and splinters. A dripping t-shirt hung from one of the man
branches of the felled tree. Near the
curb, an old sign post jutted from the ground at an angle, splitting a stray
slat of wood in two. An empty dollhouse
lay next to it. Beyond the house was a
pile of broken bricks, cracked and shattered boards, bent steel beams and many
other objects. In the middle of the heap
stood an orange metal door frame holding tightly to the upturned white vehicle
that was wedged into it. The tail of the
vehicle held a position higher than anything else, excepting only a few thin
planks of wood. Metal pipes flattened
the lower branches of the nearby fir tree.
Lodged beneath wood and bricks, a lone tire sat beside a dented washing
machine. A red and white checked
tablecloth caught on a protruding beam, while plastic bucket lid slid down the assortment
with the shifting breeze. The mound
spilled forth from the shattered floor of a second story bedroom which had only
one wall. A mattress could be seen
clearly from the street, set comfortably against an empty closet with no doors,
and no back wall. Three of the
ground-floor walls remained standing, with windows containing broken glass, the
fallen pieces lying on the ground among broken bricks and an overturned
armchair. The rest of the second story
lay in the rubble on the ground with the torn out corner of the ground
floor. Tree branches poked through the
fluttering curtains of the bedroom window.
A
He
walked down the filthy road, trying hard not to step on any shards of broken
glass or splintery remains of the trees or houses. He wondered where all the water bottles and
other garbage had come from. Surely
these people didn’t always leave their trash lying around. He saw the tree lying on top of the house and
knew they would need the chainsaw to remove it.
There was no way their hammers and hand saws would be able to cut
through the massive trunk or the web of branches. He wasn’t even sure the house was worth the
effort and the danger. There was no
telling what lay hidden beneath all the papers and loose limbs that surrounded
the tree. It would take a while to move
the whole thing, but he was getting paid to be there so he would try the best
he could. He climbed carefully through
the colossal roots, noticing with a touch of reverence that they stood even
taller than he did. His footing became
less sure as the ground transformed from packed dirt to fragments of brick and
timber. A low whistle issued from his
mouth. This job would be even more
difficult than the other. Picking up
odds and ends like the pillows, toys, and small debris wouldn’t be so difficult
as long as they wore their gloves. Even
the tree could be managed with caution.
However, the pile he faced looked unstable. Any little shift of a brick could send the
whole mound cascading down on them, including the car. He picked his way carefully around, examining
the angles at which the beams lay and the amount of stressed weight the broken
walls held. Stepping back toward the
road, he beheld the more solid walls around the corner and made his way toward
them. Testing their strength, he slowly
scaled the holding corner, using the window ledge as a step. The floor seemed sturdy in his corner, so he
ventured a little further out and exited the closet through which he had
come. The floor had once been
beautiful. It was smooth hardwood,
recently refinished. The floor creaked
as he shifted his crouching weight and he quickly stood, hitting his head on
the tree branches that poked through the fluttering curtains of the bedroom
window.
I
had come this way so many times before.
I didn’t think I would need the street signs anymore, but there was so
little left standing. It was hard to
tell one yard from another. Everything
was rubble. There were a few poles
sticking out of the ground here and there, but all else was pile after pile of
unidentifiable debris. I only knew I had
come to Alberta because someone had painted the name onto the street. It looked like the same paint that was on the
searched houses. Sarah and I got out of
the car as quickly as we could, but then there was nothing to do but
stare. She had spent the night with me
and this was the first time either of us had seen her house. I finally began to move, and this must have
triggered something in Sarah, because she headed toward the tree. I gathered up the things I could, things that
looked salvageable or useful. It wasn’t
much. A couple of pillows, a frying pan,
one of Mrs. Callimar’s china plates that somehow had stayed in one piece. The dollhouse would cheer Ellen and Mary Ann
up and give them something to play with.
There was so much commotion at our house now with three families
there. Anything might help. Sarah was still at the tree when I joined
her. I was surprised to hear her
laughing. It was a light but hollow
sound. “Jason’s t-shirt. He’s going to
hate to see this rip in it. He got it from Charles Barkley himself. He wears it all the time.” I took the shirt
from her and put it with my small pile.
We still needed to see if the Jepsons had anything left. Moving around the tree we stopped in our
tracks. The Jepson’s house was
completely gone. All that remained was
that stupid orange doorframe, their little white car, and a pile of what used
to be there house. We ran to the other
side and saw Mariah Teak’s bed sitting comfortably in the corner of her little
bedroom. Her stupid little boy-band
posters were still tacked on the wall.
And yet, the Jepsons’ house was gone.
It had knocked out a corner of the Teaks’ house, but it was gone. There
wasn’t a wall standing. Even the trees
were gone. I gazed at where the one we
had helped Teddy Jepson plant a few years ago had been, but instead of being
where it should have been, it was across the yard. The tree’s branches poked through the
fluttering curtains of Mariah’s bedroom window.
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