The Son of Every Man

Chapter 2.4

Monday, June 28th, 1999

Miguel moved quickly along an alley route from his apartment, where the fetid breath of a grease dumpster nearly consumed him as he passed. Gabe was due back tonight. Miguel would believe it when he saw it. The kid was to be driving a different car now, a large Acura sedan, brand new, the color of sand. Miguel had asked Eddie if there were any other distinguishing details, and Eddie told him it was the kind of car that would run you over before you noticed it—exactly the car they should have been using all along.

Miguel was eager for things to return to normal. It wasn't just the thought of seeing Gabe again; he also felt it would do Eddie some good to reassume his regular post back at camp. Eddie had been moody, a descriptor that Miguel was shocked could ever apply to the hulking Vietnamese man. Some nights he acted cheery, and stranger yet, talkative, helping Miguel move the packages while asking him evaluative questions about his personal life; others, he would sulk around his SUV, or wait impatiently in the driver's seat, massaging his temple with his index finger. Miguel came to view this behavior as mostly volatile, especially around ten days in, at its peak: Eddie stood frowning in an open expanse of concrete, hands on his hips, and asked, "What the fuck are we doing here, exactly?"

When Miguel asked him to clarify, Eddie had gestured wildly in odd directions around the warehouse, saying, "This, this, just, all of this," and then told Miguel never mind, to forget about it.

None of it was particularly worrying. It was just that Eddie's confidence truly did hold all of them together. All the guys, especially the encampment laborers, looked to Eddie for his stern reassurance and his conviction. Miguel wondered if he was simply catching Eddie at his worst. It would be just like Boss Man to hold it together at home with his family, and throughout his shifts in the desert, only to fall apart at the very end of it all, safe within the secured walls of the warehouse. Maybe there was even something about Miguel's presence that put Eddie at ease. He flattered himself that it was probably true.

After a nervous smoke, propped against the concrete post at the edge of the garage door, Miguel watched a beige car approach down the lane and pad softly into the lot. The driver window dropped, and there was Gabe, looking unexpectedly friendly and eager in the dim light. Miguel noticed coarse black stubble above his lip and under his chin.

He said the only thing that came to mind. "How's the new car?"

Gabe seemed to fumble for a response. "It has an automatic transmission."

Miguel went inside and raised the garage door while Gabe performed his usual three-point turn. Once Gabe had finished backing into the garage, Miguel was glad to see him stand up out of the car, no groundhog scared back in by its shadow. Miguel flipped on the lights. For the time being, Gabe remained partially barricaded between the door and the car. Miguel reached into the trunk and brought out the first of the packages. He took another glance at Gabe and said, "It's a lot cleaner than the old one."

"It won't stay that way." Gabe stepped out from the gaping mouth of the car door and closed it.

Miguel continued to appraise the sedan. "Damn. Doesn't even look like it's loaded up."

The kid nodded.

"What happened to the Honda?"

"It's my personal car now." He paused. "It belonged to my father."

Well, that was fucking strange. Anyway, come on, Miguel begged himself, bring up something other than the stupid car. Anything. He cleared his throat and said, "It got old having Eddie around all the time. Glad you're back."

"Eddie can be a little intense sometimes."

"You're telling me." Package still in hand, Miguel lingered on the edge of it now: that un-talked-about event, the reason for Gabe's absence. And somehow, Gabe seemed right there with him, preparing for the dive, so Miguel said, "Anyway, I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry." Then he asked in Spanish, "Were you close with your mother?"