The Summoning Read online

  "You can go," her father said. "We're not that busy tonight. I don't need you here." He turned toward his wife and John. "She's old enough to do things with her friends if she wants to," he said. "And she deserves a little privacy."

  She took a deep breath. "Thank you," she told her father. She glanced toward her grandmother, who smiled at her and nodded approval.

  "Should I pick you up afterward?" her father asked. Sue shook her head. "I'll walk home." "Are you sure? That late?" "I'll be fine."

  "What time will you be back?" her mother asked. "The movie starts at eight, gets out at nine-thirty, I'll be home by ten." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to go, I'll be late." She grabbed her jacket from the chair next to the kitchen door and hurried out before her mother could think of another argument. The truth was that she was going to the movie alone, something she did far more often than she would ever admit to her parents. Usually, she went alone not because she had to, but because she liked to. This time, though, it had not been entirely voluntary. She had asked Shelly and Janine to go with her, but neither of them had wanted to see the film. She wasn't about to let the fact that no one wanted to go with her keep her from enjoying herself, however.

  Her parents, she knew, especially her mother, would forbid her to leave the house if they realized that she actually liked to go to movies, go shopping and perform other supposedly social activities by herself.

  They would probably consider her a disgrace to the family and decide that there was something seriously wrong with her. Or something else wrong with her.

  Although neither of her parents had ever said anything, it was clear that both of them already thought there was something amiss because she was twenty-one and not yet married. When her mother was her age, as she never tired of pointing out, she already had a two-year-old daughter. Sue never said a word, but she thought to herself that if he had gotten pregnant at nineteen, her parents would have thought her the slut of the Western world.

  On this issue, her grandmother, who more often than not took her side in disputes, was in complete agreement with her parents. Her grandmother had even suggested sending her to live in San Francisco with her aunt so she could find a nice Chinese boy.

  She had long since given up trying to explain that she would get married when she was ready and when she fell in love, not when tradition said it was appropriate. These days she just smiled, nodded, and waited for the discussion to end.

  A car pulled up to the restaurant as she was leaving, and she moved out of its way, veering off to the right and taking the sandy path that wound through the cactus and cottonwood and acted as a shortcut through the land between the restaurant and the back of the Basha's shopping center.

  The movie theater was on the far side of the grocery store, and she arrived just in time, grabbing a seat just as the lights dimmed, the curtains opened, and the first preview came on.

  The movie was good, but not one of Woody's best. Not as great as Siskel and Ebert had said it was but still thoughtful and funny and well worth watching. She seemed to be in the minority in her enjoyment of the film, however. Throughout its presentation, people in the audience made loud comments which they and their friends seemed to consider amusing but which she found juvenile and obnoxious. The sparse audience laughed more at the observations of these buffoons than they did at the genuinely funny lines in the film, and it almost made her wish she'd waited to see the movie on video.

  Afterward, she walked slowly across the parking lot toward the street.

  The lot was deserted save for a cluster of vehicles around the entrance of the theater. She stopped for a moment, looking up. The moonless sky was black, freckled with oversize stars, and the air was chill with a promise of winter. Carried faintly on the light desert breeze was the scent of a mesquite campfire.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp cool air. She loved nights like these, but they always made her sad somehow. These were evenings that should be spent with others, not alone. These were nights for cuddling and comforters and hot chocolate, not nights for mo qua and arguing parents.

  Around her, couples made their way to cars and trucks, talking together in low intimate tones. They were high school students mostly, the boys younger versions of their fathers with cowboy hats, boots, and white Skoal circles outlined on the back pockets of their faded Levi's, the girls giggly emulators of their mothers' status quo subservience.

  Sue shook her head, looked toward the drooping cottonwood tree at the corner of the parking lot. She was being too hard on these people, and she knew iL She was in a mean mood tonight. Jealousy, probably. Her own mother was no doubt far more subservient than these girls or even their mothers would ever be.

  To her right, leaning against a red pickup, she saw a boy and girl kissing passionately, young lovers who no doubt thought their relationship would last forever. She was jealous. This had never been a part of her life when she'd been their age. She'd regretted it then, and she regretted it now. She thought of her senior prom, the only school dance she had ever attended. She'd gone with Clay Brown, a boy she barely knew and who barely knew her. Neither of them had been able to find dates for the prom, and they'd sort of fallen together out of necessity. After the dance, they'd tried to make out, there in the dark of the car on the dirt road next to the river. But though each of them wanted something to happen, nothing had. Their passion had been forced, awkward, and uncomfortable for both of them, and it was instantly clear that there were no sparks, that it was not going to work.

  Embarrassed, they'd avoided each other after that. Clay had eventually moved out of town. He was probably married by now.

  She watched the young lovers break their kiss and get into the pickup.

  They kissed again before driving off.

  She continued walking, wondering whether her mother was going to be up and waiting, ready to give her the third degree when she got home .....

  "Hey, Sue! Wait up!"

  She turned to see Shelly hurrying across the parking lot toward her.

  Sue stood, waiting. By the time her friend reached her, the chubby girl was panting and nearly out of breath. "I knew you'd be at the movie, so I decided to come with you, but I didn't see you in there."

  "I sat in the back. I thought you didn't want to go." "I changed my mind." "Why? Did you get a date?"

  Shelly snorted. "Very funny. Actually, I tried to catch you at the restaurant, but John said you'd already left. I thought I could find you at the theater, but by the time I got here the movie had already started, and i didn't want to walk up and down the aisles looking for you." "Well, I didn't see you either."

  "I was near the front, off to the side." She shook her head. "I almost went home. I've never gone to a movie by myself before."

  Sue shrugged. "It's something you get used to." She started walking again. "So what was the emergency? Why did you have to find me?"

  "I didn't. It's just that, you know, my dad didn't come home after work again, and my mom started taking it out on me, so I had to get out of there. I thought I'd go with you to the movie."

  "Now you wish you'd stayed home, right?"

  Shelly didn't smile. "No," she said. "It's starting to get bad. I was going to wait to leave until I could afford someplace decent, get my own trailer or something, but now I'm thinking it's better to get out no matter what. I have a half day tomorrow, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and see how much apartments are."

  "That'll take ten minutes. What are there, those new ones over on Sagebrush, those old ones on Copperhead?"

  Shelly shrugged. "I don't know. I thought we'd get a paper and look."

  "Yeah, I'll go." Sue looked at her friend. "What about tonight? Are you going back? You could.. stay over at my house." "Yeah, right."

  "You could sleep in my room." "Sue, your parents don't like me. They wouldn't let me stay overnight."

  "Yes, they would."

  Shelly shook her head. "No, they wouldn't. Besides, I'm going
home.

  My dad's probably back by now, and if they're fighting, I'll be able to slip in without being noticed."

  Sue said nothing, did not look at her friend. Shelly was right. Her parents didn't like her. She had never been sure if that was because Shelly was not Chinese or because she had not made the kinds of grades in school that they considered appropriate for a friend of their daughter's. Her parents would have let Shelly stay overnight, and they would have been polite to her, but she herself would have received an extensive grilling about the details of Shelly's home life after her friend had left.

  "Come on," Shelly said. "I got my car. I'll give you a ride home."

  "All right

  The parking lot was empty save for Shelly's broken down Dart and a Toyota pickup near the far side of the theater. Once again, Sue smelled mesquite, and she wondered if it was from the dude ranch or a lone camper sleeping overnight in the surrounding desert.

  Shelly unlocked the passenger door of the car. Sue got in, then leaned across the seat to unlock the driver's side. She buckled her seat belt while Shelly started the car and pushed in a Clint Black tape.

  Sue groaned. "Not that country crap." ::' Shelly grinned. "If it ain't country, it ain't music." Sue stared out the window at the darkened buildings as the Dart sped up 370 toward Center. In the west, the silhouette of Apache Peak looked black even against the darkness of the sky. They drove in silence, listening to the music. This morning her grandmother had stated that today would not be a good day, and although Sue had dismissed the prediction at the time, she wondered now what her grandmother had meant. It was obvious that the old woman had had some sort of dream that she believed foreshadowed an important event. Had she been thinking of the crisis within Shelly's family, or had it been something else? She would have to asL : The car pulled to a stop in front of Sue's hot and she got out, walking around to Shelly's window. ""Do you want to come in for a while, just stay until things cool down?" Shelly shook her head. "It's been two hours.

  Either everything's okay, or the whole night's shot, and they'll be arguing until dawn." She smiled tiredly. ""Or my dad hit the road and is heading down the highway singing

  "By the time I Get to Phoenix." "

  "Call me tomorrow then."

  "I will."

  Sue stood on the cracked sidewalk and watched the taillights of her friend's car shrink in the distance, turn a corner, and disappear. She walked up the steps to the front porch. The door was opened before she had finished taking her key out of her purse. Her grandmother stood in the doorway, backlit by the light in the hall, her frizzy hair forming a dark halo around her head. The rest of the house was dark. Everyone else, including her mother, had already gone to bed.

  "I'm glad you are safe," her grandmother said in Chinese. "I have been waiting. I thought something might have happened to you."

  "I'm fine," Sue said, walking inside, taking off her shoes and closing the door behind her. But the troubled expression'i was worried." n her grandmother's face did not disappear.

  "About what?"

  The old woman patted her shoulder. "We will talk in the morning. It is late now. I am old and need my rest. You are young and need your rest. We should both be in bed."

  "Okay," Sue said The two of them walked down the hall, stopping before the door to Sue's room. Sue yawned, then smiled. "Good night, Grandmother," she said.

  Her grandmother nodded, said good night, but she looked troubled and did not smile as she continued down the hall.

  A always, Rich Carter awoke with the dawn.

  He opened his eyes, yawned, stretched. The drapes were closed, but the bedroom was filled with hazy diffused light, a curtain-filtered distillation of the powerful Indian summer sunrise outside. Next to him, on the bed, Corrie still slept, one arm thrown over her eyes as though some part of her brain had known morning was coming and had ordered her body to preserve the illusion of darkness for as long as possible. He watched her for a moment. Asleep, she appeared almost happy, more content than she ever did when awake. The set of her mouth was softened, the lines of tension in her forehead smoothed away. She looked ten years younger, the way she had when they'd first met.

  Sometimes he felt guilty for bringing her here.

  Rich reached over and carefully cracked open the curtains, peeking outside. Through the chain-link fence, between the corner of the garage and the palo verde tree at the far end of the backyard, he could see the desert-the flat land, the far-off mesas, and the closer red sandstone buttes. Yellow morning sunlight threw saguaros and ocotillos into clear relief and highlighted the oversize boulders which covered the range of high hills to the north, illuminating aspects of the landscape that could only be seen at this hour on this kind of day. It was mornings like this, when the sky was clear and blue and cloud less and even the most overt intrusions of civilization seemed like only temporary incursions on a beautiful un changing land, that he felt most acutely the tightness of his decision to return to Rio Verde.

  Corrie would not agree. Which was one reason why he did not wake her up to share this moment. Corrie hated the desert. Well, maybe hate was too strong a word. But to her the beauty of the desert was not apparent, and the uniqueness of light and sky and landscape had virtually no effect on her. She had gotten used to Rio Verde, but she still required frequent weekend trips to Phoenix and drives to Flagstaff or Randall or Payson. Upon her first view of the town, he recalled, she'd instantly declared it the ugliest place she'd ever seen. Her views had modified somewhat--she now claimed to have seen several towns uglier than Rio Verde, all of them within the county--but she had never grown to love the community the way he'd hoped she would.

  The way he did.

  On that first trip back, he had thought the town the most welcome sight he'd ever seen. After the Valley, after Southern California, the familiar view of the ribbon of cottonwoods lining the river, the streets and structures built atop the low desert foothills fronting Sinagua Bluffs was one which filled him with comforting pleasure and a sense of contentment. He had been so happy to be back that he had rationalized Corrie's feelings, claiming that they had driven in on 370 instead of 95, coming in from the ugly east end of town, and that this had skewed her initial perceptions. But he'd known then as he knew now that she was a city girl and that life in a small town would take some getting used to. He'd thought it would be easier than this, though.

  Rich let the curtain fall. Anna was already up. He could hear the theme music for Sesarr Street from the living room. He pushed off the blankets and got out of bed, careful not to disturb Corrie. He went to the bathroom, then pulled on a robe and walked down the short hallway to the living room. "Hey, sweetie," he said, picking up Anna from the couch and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

  She giggled and wiped the kiss away. "Knock it off,

  Daddy. I have to watch my show."

  He put her down.

  "What's for breakfast?" she asked. "Lizards and snakes. With bug milk." She giggled again. "No, really." "French toast," he said.

  "Goody!" She flashed him a missing-toothed gOn and sat down on the couch to watch TV.

  He walked around the breakfast bar into the kitchen. If he ever did decide to leave Rio Verde, it would be because of Anna. He'd never had much sympathy for Corrie's complaints that the town was boring, since he himself was never bored, and he firmly believed that an intelligent person should be able to find something of interest no matter where he or she was located. But sometimes he worried about Anna. Rio Verde was a small town, and while he and Corrie tried to instill in their daughter their own intellectual values, and while cable television ensured that they were electronically connected to the cultural life of the rest of the world, he could not help feeling that she might be... well, missing out on something. He had complete faith in the abilities of the town's teachers--he knew many of them and liked most of those he knewN and he had no doubts about Anna's potential, but he still found himself agreeing with Corrie that their relative isolation
would eventually put the girl at a disadvantage when competing with people from other parts of the country. Their isolation was geographical, not intellectual or cultural, but still the fear was there.

  If anything could get him out of here, it would be Anna's welfare.

  Then again, when he watched news reports of the daily murders in Los Angeles and Detroit and New York, when he read statistics about drugs and violent crime, he thought that a small town like Rio Verde might be the perfect place to raise a child, after all.

  It was tough being a parent.

  "Hey!" he called. "You want to crack the eggs?"

  "Yeah!" Anna said, hurrying into the kitchen. Cracking eggs was one of her favorite things to do.

  He held the bowl, while she used both hands to hold the egg and smash it against the rim. Half of the egg white slid down the outside of the bowl, and bits of shell accompanied that portion which mad it inside, but he told her she did a great job. She grinned, then ran back into the living room to watch Sesame Street.

  After breakfast, while Anna helped Corrie clean the dishes, Rich re dred to his study. The deadline for this week's paper had come and gone, and Marge Watson had missed it again. The world would survive without this installment of Social Scene, which chronicled the past week's worth of Ladies' Auxiliary news, but he still had a page-two space to fill, and now he was going to have to spend half of his Saturday writing some sort of observational feature.

  He turned on his PC, put in the disk for his wordprocessing program, and watched the screen as the computer booted up. Sometimes he wondered what the point of all this was. He knew he didn't have the resources at his disposal to put out a top quality paper, but he worked hard and did the best he could with what he had. Unfortunately, there just weren't enough permanent residents of the town to provide him with a consistent readership, and the tourists who passed through only used the paper to start their campfires. To top it off, his own contributors didn't seem to give a damn if they missed 'their deadlines.