Chapter Seven
Rodger awoke with a sense of determination. The first day’s driving had been marred by events, and they made only La Junta. The second day started after Mass and ended early. He felt a need to cover ground. Rodger did not like to push himself or his vehicle on trips, but he told Mike their goal for the day was to cross the California border.
They climbed into the Chevelle and started on the dark highway. Mike fell asleep while Rodger drove, window down, through scented air. This land had belonged to Spain, and it felt different from the harder and more mercantile areas to the north. Rodger always felt at home with Catholic things, even when the ethnic matrix was distinct from his own. He thought about the Church, which is of the soul, and how the soul is more important than the body.
The thought led him to recall his first encounter with Veronica. It was in a C.C.D. class for Catholic students attending Hutchinson High School. The topic was, Rodger easily remembered, the existence of the human soul. The priest explained that while a married couple cooperates in making a baby’s body, the baby’s soul is immediately created by God. Rodger could think of nothing more awesome than cooperating with a wife, and with God, in making new people. He had never much considered the priesthood, but at that moment he decided to be a husband and father instead.
Rodger met Veronica after class, in the flush of his resolution. He did not know to question whether all Catholic girls felt as he did. The priest had just explained things, right? Veronica was pretty and did most of the talking. Rodger listened, and since they were in a group, someone else knew what to say.
Rodger sighed at the memory and looked over at Mike. As a father he struggled to find words, but his son was a tangible expression of all he felt. Veronica, in contrast, had left. Without her, what could he hope to say about marriage? And when he saw her again, would they even be husband and wife?
Rodger knew that Veronica’s faithfulness was in doubt. She was committed to contraception, had hinted at random living arrangements, and was in poor health. Rodger had lived day to day since she left, and seeing her again would eliminate even that. He would have to confront their reality without a clear manifestation of their relationship. There would be only words.
Rodger found some relief in the gradual illumination of the landscape by the morning sun. He pulled into a truck stop for breakfast, but Mike returned to sleep once they were back on the road. This was unusual, and when they reached the Four Corners, Rodger encouraged his son to take an interest in the border anomaly. Mike obliged by standing alternatively in the quadrants. He would not straddle the center with arms and legs in all quadrants as other children were doing, however, and he did not draw attention to himself.
Rodger said nothing, but he was worried. He led Mike to the Chevelle, placed him in the back seat, and sat next to him going over the school lessons Sr. Ann had packed away. “This is the first day of school,” Rodger said, smiling. Mike smiled somewhat, said “okay,” and began reading a book about dolphins.
The impact of the trip on his son had not occurred to Rodger. Mike had always gone along, and this would be their longest and most important trip. There was no thought of leaving the boy behind, and Rodger now regretted the oversight. Wouldn’t it have been easier to leave Mike with his uncle, go get Veronica, and bring her home? Mike could have started school on time, and hopefully something would have been worked out with Veronica on the long trip back. As it was, Rodger had created a double burden: he would have to meet Veronica with Mike along, and Mike would have to be there for the meeting. Rodger felt a pang of self-loathing, but as always he continued on.
They were now in Arizona, dropping down towards Flagstaff and U.S. 66, which was gradually being transformed into I-40. The old highway still ran through towns, but new four lane sections in rural areas allowed for higher speeds. Perhaps because of his nervousness, and certainly because of his morning resolution to reach California, Rodger decided to let the Chevelle unwind. The tires were good, he had repacked the bearings, and the engine still had some life in it. He saw no reason not to.
Rodger rolled up the windows and opened the vents. He found ninety miles per hour suitable. The vehicle did not exactly settle down, yet neither was it floaty. Cars still passed, but Rodger did not think he was equipped to match them.
Mike paid no attention. He had finished his work in a couple hours, surprised to do in little time what would take all day at school. Still in the box was his copy of the catechism, and after some delay he decided to pick up where he left the day before:
8. What do we mean when we say that God is the Supreme Being?
When we say that God is the Supreme Being we mean that He is above all creatures.
9. What do we mean when we say that God is eternal?
When we say that God is eternal we mean that He always was and always will be, and that he always remains the same.
10. What do we mean when we say that God is all-knowing?
When we say that God is all-knowing we mean that He knows all things past, present, and future, even our most secret thoughts, words and actions.
11. What do we mean when we say that God is all-present?
When we say that God is all-present we mean that He is everywhere.
12. Does God see us?
God sees us and watches over us with loving care.
Mike examined a drawing next to the last question. It showed a family at dinner: father, mother, son, and two daughters. Above them was an image of God as a venerable bearded man, arms outstretched. Below them was the caption: “God is always with us.”
Mike began to cry. Rodger, distracted by his driving, did not notice. Mike rolled off the seat into the footwell so his father could not see his tears. The drawing of the mother possessed the boy. She was at the table. There, at the table. His mom was never at the table. And the girls, also there. What would it be like to have sisters, or maybe a brother? He couldn’t stop.
Rodger found his son asleep in the footwell. Stopping for gas just short of the California border, he finally saw Mike’s condition—eyes red, face and shirt covered with mucus. He lifted the boy onto the back seat, let him sleep as he filled up, and then crossed the border.