West With Giraffes(88)
Before my eyes could take it all in, we were seeing our first glimpse of water—the road had led us straight to the city’s bay.
We’d made it. Ocean to ocean.
Everywhere I looked there were coast guard cutters and tankers and navy ships, all coming and going like a picture postcard against a big, beautiful hill at the mouth of the bay. I’d never seen such a sparkly place. Instead of harbor rats and hurricanes, there were pelicans and sun and docks so gleaming they would have made Cuz itch. Both giraffes popped their snouts out to sniff at the new ocean.
And still we kept on moving.
The front motorcycle cop did a little circle wave in the air, then led us into a sharp turn by the bustling train station, a towering building covered in Spanish curlicues with fancy vehicles of every kind parked in front, including a shining cream-and-blue Harley that caught my eye.
From the road, I could read the station’s big arrival and departure schedule board outside, announcing the next departure: THE SAN DIEGO & ARIZONA RAILWAY, EXPECTED ON TIME—DESTINATION EL CENTRO, YUMA, PHOENIX CONNECTING WITH ALL POINTS EAST.
I slowed the rig to stare. Then, with a last, long glance, I pulled my eyes away from the board as we moved on.
The Old Man noticed. “She’ll be fine, boy. For a girlie, she knows how to handle herself and any husband she’s got, I suspect.”
Up ahead, the cycle cops passed a sign pointing to Balboa Park. Within seconds, we were following them across a tall, slender bridge straight through an archway that led us into what looked to me like a fairy-tale cobblestone plaza—where another sign waited to point the way to the San Diego Zoo.
The Old Man could barely sit still. Pulling on his fedora, he positioned it for business with more pleasure than I’d ever seen. “Now you’re going to see the show of your life!” he crowed. “I rang up the Boss Lady when we started out this morning. She’s alerted the papers as well as the police, rousting them soon as we hung up, I bet. It’s going to be a sight, a true sight.” He pointed. “When we make that turn up ahead, all the reporters and picture-takers are going to be waiting. If the word’s spread, probably half the town. The Boss Lady already got a crane from the docks, so we’ll be hauling the darlings’ traveling suites off the rig into their big new home and opening ’em up. Then, tomorrow the rest of the town that’s not up there already will turn out. Even got a ceremony lined up. All for the darlings. We’re home, boy! Yessir, you are in for a treat!”
That was exactly what I saw waiting around the bend—a hullabaloo the likes of which my young self had never seen. Lining the road on either side of us were people of all shapes and sizes, crowding against fancy red ropes. As the crowd roared, the front gates opened. I saw a plump woman in sensible granny shoes, schoolmarm bun, and church-lady dress coming to greet us, arms wide. I saw the camera guys begin snapping and the flashbulbs begin popping. Inside, I saw a harbor crane hovering high with men in dungarees waiting below. Rolling us to a final stop, I realized, with a last look in my mirror at the giraffes, that I was once again just a boy, on another coast, watching a sea of dungarees studying how to get two giraffes where they needed to go—a lucky boy who somehow got to tag along for the ride in between.
The Old Man was already grabbing for the door handle. As I sat in that cab with him for the very last moment we’d ever be doing it together, I heard the arriving San Diego & Arizona Railway train blow its horn pulling into the station, and I knew there was one more thing I had to do. “Mr. Jones . . . I’ve got to go.”
The Old Man jerked his head around as the arriving train blew its horn again, and he saw me glance its way. At that, he fumed. “All right, boy. It’s not your brain that’s doing this thinking, but I guess it’d save me a lot of explaining to the Boss Lady that I’d rather do later than sooner.” He took out some cash from his wallet and stuffed it in my shirt pocket. “That’s enough for any round-trip ticket you need, got it?” Then he stuck out his hand. “The giraffes can hold on to their thanks until you get back. But as for me—you did a man’s job and you deserve a man’s thanks, right damn now. Shake my hand, son.”
And I did.
Then he gave me a shove out the cab door, which was the only kind of farewell he was willing to give and the only one I was willing to take. I’d be back in a day, after all. It wasn’t goodbye. I glanced up at the giraffes, their heads swiveling my way, and felt my heart drop into my boots. I’ll see them tomorrow, when I’m back, I told myself, then headed on a dead run toward the train station. I wasn’t much clear what I was going to do when I got to Phoenix besides find her before she left. Maybe I was going to come up with something that a full-grown man might say or do. Maybe all I wanted was to make sure she wasn’t stranded, that Lionel Abraham Lowe, Good Man, had wired the money. Or maybe it was just that after seeing the giraffes safe to the end of their trip’s story, I couldn’t rest until I knew the end of Red’s. I didn’t much know. Like always, when I didn’t know, running was what I seemed to do.
As I got closer to the depot, though, I could hear the conductor yelling his “All aboard!” I could see the last passenger get on and the train begin to move. I’d hesitated too long. It was pulling out and I was still a block away. Dodging cars and statues and benches and fences, I sprinted down the tracks after it, high-stepping to keep from stumbling over the rails, my heart pumping so hard I was gulping air as the train picked up speed. Still feeling Red’s kiss on my lips, I kept telling myself that I’d hopped freights before. I can do it, I can catch it, I can—