Laraville

My sciatica was acting up as I shuffled with my walker into the meeting room. I grimaced, glanced around, and saw everyone filing in the large hand-hewn building that sat squarely in the middle of Laraville, filled with musty air and stale people. 

“Dale forgot the air freshener again, I see,” I muttered. I rummaged in my pockets and found a tin of breath mints. I took one out, crushed it between my fingers, and rubbed the powder on the inside of my nostrils.

It stung a bit, and there was a chance I looked like a drug addict, but there was no one in the room that would dare mention it. Not a single one. I had made sure of it. 

I inhaled deeply, felt full of mint and life, and directed my attention to my assigned folding chair tucked in the nearest corner of the room to the door. A foldout table sat in front of it, as well as in front of every other chair in the semicircle that went halfway around the large room. Fifty chairs in all, and if the rumors were correct, soon to be fifty-one.  

“Suzanne, Gary.” I nodded to the two of them, as I shuffled behind them.

“Frank.” They muttered back, not glancing up. But I knew the second I passed them, they would give me the ol’ Laraville once over. Was I wearing new pants? Any stains on them? How about my lopsided gait? How close was I to the grave? All this and more, I knew. I knew because I did the same to them.

I reached my chair and sighed wintergreen as I lowered my aching back and leg to a rested position. I glanced over to my right. Hector’s chair remained empty. I had met the only person in town with more seniority than I had only the once.

“So you wanna live here?” Hector had growled at me. He was gracious enough to stop and turn off his tractor. I had stepped out of my car, waved him down, and asked him about the usual climate. 

“I hear there’s some oil under this ground,” I said. Hector’s voice lowered another octave.

“This happened to the Smets over yonder too. Their farm was ruined because of a prospector like you. You find oil, and I bet you will. Probably the same pocket they found, just another spigot in the same bucket. But people will follow you. More people will come.” He frowned and rubbed the back of his tan neck. His eyes brightened as his gaze went from me to the rolling golden fields, the stalks of wheat tinged red from the setting sun. “One sure way to ruin nature is to get people involved with it.”

“I’ll make sure they’re good people,” I promised. “And I’m looking for a small operation, in fact, I already got the permits.”

“Good people?” he spat about a foot to the left of my shoes. “No such thing. Selfish people are all there is out there. You can’t trust people with nothing but to follow their own desires. Isn’t that right guy? What was your name again, was it Frank?”

I took a few steps to my right. “Yeah, Frank Garret.” I extended my hand, but it was ignored. “But I agree with you sir, you can’t trust people, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be good nonetheless.”

“Nonetheless? Stop using syllables ya don’t need Frank,” he grumbled. “The plants and animals out here don’t care for them, and I don’t either. You’re a city slicker in a suit made from China, looking to suck up the oily past of our planet, only to fling it into the air to spread into everyone’s lungs.” He glared back at me and spoke softly. “Cause that’s the thing with people, Frank. They bring up people’s past only to pollute the air with gossip. These fields out here. This life. It’s all about what you and me are doing in the present. I ain’t the same man I was a week ago, I sure ain’t the man I was five years ago. But I sure wish I was the man I was before I met you. I don’t trust you, and I just know, even now, you are conniving on how to bring more selfish people out to this beautiful pristine country.”

I was taken aback. I had not been expecting this kind of welcome, or lack thereof. I placed one hand over my heart and raised my other palm towards him. “I promise Hector. I’m not going to trust anybody. I will run any new resident through an extensive check, and even once they move here, I’ll reserve the right to kick them out if they don’t respect the land. If they don’t respect what your family has done to keep it beautiful.”

Hector snorted and spat one foot, this time, to the right of my shoes. “And how are you going to do that?”

I hesitated. I wasn’t expecting to have to come up with a plan today.

“A monthly meeting of all the residents. Each one responsible for the one who moved in after them. If anybody shows they are disrespecting the land or others, or fail in their responsibility, off they go.”

Hector gave a slow chuckle. “Oh Lord, I almost want to see this happen.”

“You’re invited to the meetings. I’ll save you a seat. In fact, you would be responsible to make sure I was keeping my nose clean. Since I would be the one moving in after you.”

He started his tractor and reached to release the brake. “I’ll save you some trouble Frank. You’re not good. You’re out. Go back to the city.” I watched as he and his tractor went down the dirt road that bordered his fields. “I mean it Frank!” He called out over his shoulder. A cold breeze ran across the dirt road, kicking up a brown haze. The waving stalks of wheat seemed to be bidding me farewell.

My approved permits poked at my chest through my suit pocket. I had always kept my promises. Whether to the oil company that was interested in buying my oil, or to Hector, the man who didn’t want me there. 

I hopped back in my car and started the engine. I was off to the state capital to finalize the plans. I was a man of my word, I had always prided myself on that, but Hector’s words, well, how do I put it delicately?

They weren’t my words.

“Well, I would like to start by commenting that our new resident is late,” snipped Dale, number 50. He sat at the far opposite side of the meeting room from me, which was where all the newest residents sat. Dale’s high school slacker look was gone, as well as his inability to speak more than one syllable at a time. His frame was dressed in a suit with an expectant glow about his face and new vocabulary on his lips. No doubt because if there was a new resident in Laraville, he would no longer be at the bottom of the food chain. There would finally be somebody he could criticize. Dale glanced around at the other family representatives. “Right? He is tardy! Disrespectful, I say. I seem to recall one year ago when I strolled in two minutes late. I never heard the end of it!” 

“Well,” drawled out Lucy, number 49. She took a moment to pull out a tissue and blow her nose. She glanced inside the tissue, frowned, and stuffed the old one in her purse and drew out another one. “I . . .” Honk! “Don’t think you have speaking privileges yet” HONK! “Dale. You’re still the newest member until somebody new” HONK sniff HONK “walks in.” She stuffed the handful of tissue into her purse but several fell on the floor. She tried to kick them away, but they rolled into the middle of the room. I, as well as the others, ignored them. “Besides,” she sniffed, “if you hadn’t forgotten the air freshener, some of us wouldn’t be suffering right now.” She eyed at the other scrunched noses in the room and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we do a exile vote for Dale?”

“I don’t think that is necessary,” I said, as I rubbed some more mint in my nostrils. “Besides Lucy, if he was gone, you would once again be at the bottom, do you really want that?”

“Maybe not a vote for Dale,” thundered Stan, number 10. “But I want to illuminate all of you to what I saw Wendy do last week!”

Groans echoed all around. 

“Really Stan? Again?”

“Give poor Wendy a rest.”

“Need I remind you what I saw you do seven years ago?” commented Bertrand, number 9, to the right of him.

Stan held up his hand to silence the others. “She bought a new refrigerator, and I saw her bury the cardboard box, styrofoam and all, next to the town well!”

Silence came across the room. All eyes turned to the petite woman to the left of Stan. Her grey dress hung loosely on her and absolutely did not match the neon colored fanny pack and visor she wore. 

“What can I say?” she responded to the glares and shrugged. “I gotta be me.”

An uproar broke out, spittle and words flying across the boardroom. Cries for exile rose up. Wendy leaned back in her seat with a small smirk on her face.

“Enough!” I yelled, as I pounded my fist on my table. The din quieted. I looked all around the room. I looked at Wendy. “So it’s true then?”

Wendy yawned. “It’s not the complete truth, but yeah, it’s true.” She stared at her chewed fingernails and frowned. 

“Well, what is the complete truth?”

“I buried more than just that.” She winked over at Stan. 

Stan grew beet red and jabbed a finger at Wendy. “How long are we going to tolerate this! If there is anybody here who is disrespecting this land, it’s her!”

“I doubt you’ll get the majority vote,” Wendy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I got several friends here.” She twirled her hair. “So I’m gonna keep burying . . . whatever . . . I . . . want.” She leaned towards Stan and placed her hands on his cheeks and squished them. “Can’t you see Stan? It’s a burden I carry. I got the need . . . The need to bury.”

Stan pushed her hands away. “Wendy! For God’s sake!” He frantically glanced around the room. “Exile? This must qualify for exile! It must! Please?” He raised his hand and motioned for others to do the same. 

Multiple hands were raised, but there were many who stayed down. Within moments the count was in, twenty-five for exile, twenty-five against. For the first time, a tie.

“A tie!” Stan exclaimed. He glanced at me. I could see the excitement in his eyes. He had never been so close to exiling Wendy before. “Frank, what are we to do in a tie? Would not you have the tie-breaking vote?” He said it hopefully, as I was one of the ones for exile. 

Part of me wanted to say yes. That would make it easy. Wendy was obviously no good for Laraville. 

But, I was a man of my word, and I had made it clear in the town’s rules.

“No, a tie means we will revote next month, and if needed, the month after. Until there is no longer a tie.”

I could sense a cloud of disappointment over the room. Wendy turned her visor backward, took out a notepad and pen from her fanny pack, and giggled to herself, as she scribbled.

“A whole month?” she murmured but obviously loud enough for people to hear. “I can make one more friend in that time. I think I could.” She glanced over at Ralph, number 42, and gave him a wink. 

Ralph quickly looked away.

“Sooooo . . . about Dale,” hissed Lucy in the silence. She sneezed. HONK! “Can we not all agree he is the worst?“ She started to raise her hand as to cast a vote.

The doors suddenly burst open, and a man in his mid-twenties burst in, pulling up his pants and fastening them about his waist. 

“Sorry! Sorry everyone! I’m terribly sorry! Had to get dressed while driving over! Directions were so confusing, and I overslept! Center of town is hard to find when there are miles in between buildings!” The man pulled out a belt from his pants pocket and started to feed it into his belt loops. He moved into the center of the room. He sheepishly waved at the others. “I’m Rupert. The new resident in town! Certainly a peculiar tradition this is! But it’s good, I think! The people here get to know each other!”

I grimaced as I remembered all the things I knew about Gary, number 3, who sat to the left of me. I knew when he ran out of cereal, when toenails needed trimming, when his dog farted. I knew too much. But it was necessary, otherwise how could you trust somebody if you didn’t know everything about him or her? Who knew what people were hiding?

Who knew what Rupert was hiding? First off, what kind of name was Rupert? I glanced over at the others. They were obviously thinking the same thing. Everyone’s eyes had narrowed, brows furrowed. They were taking Rupert apart, stitch by stitch. Rupert didn’t seem to mind.

“So!” Rupert clasped his hands together, now fully dressed, as a smile broke on his face. He glanced around at the silent staring faces. “Let me introduce myself. I’ve heard a little bit about all of you. My name is Rupert, and I just moved here from the state capital. I got a law degree, but I wanted to get out of the city for a season. Get back to my roots.” He glanced around the room. Everyone was still sizing him up. 

The silence dragged on. It was the usual treatment for newcomers. They were completely ignored and judged the most harshly. All the thin-skinned people left after the first meeting, usually. 

“So, do I get a seat? I think I heard you all sit in order of seniority? Correct?” Rupert looked for affirmation. All the eyes in the room looked over to the seat to the left of the beaming Dale. Rupert noticed this and nodded. “Ah, I see. For the newest person. And I would presume that the seat to the right of Frank, it’s Frank, right? Is for the most senior resident of the town?” He glanced my way. 

“Yes, that is correct,” I responded, deciding to throw him a bone. “I am the one with the most seniority here. I started Laraville fifty years ago, before you were born.”

Rupert approached me, talking as he came. “Of course! I wasn’t even a glimmer in my parents’ eyes yet.” He stood in front of me. “I also heard that, according to the town rules, that you wrote, Frank, that seniority can be passed on as an inheritance. It makes sense. If somebody’s family was here before yours, they should have seniority. Isn’t that right?” 

I watched in horror as Rupert walked around the table, casually dusted off the chair to the right of me, and sat down in it. 

He extended his hand out to me. I limply shook it, eyes wide. “I’m Hector’s grandson,” he said. “I’m terribly sorry for the curmudgeon that he was to you all those years ago. Every time I visited him, all he could do is complain about what you were doing. He saw each oil well rise up, and he cursed every one. But I’m happy you brought progress to this area, in fact, I’m hoping to build a well on my family’s property soon. Join in with the rest of all of you, as it were.” He smiled and looked around the room. 

Silent and stunned faces returned back to him. I personally had no clue Hector was no longer around, but it made sense, I was nearly seventy, and he was likely in his forties when I met him fifty years ago. It had been decades since I drove by his property. Each year that I had, his crops looked a little sadder, a little blacker. 

A little more disrespected. 

I was a man of my word. If nothing else.

“Rupert, I’m afraid I can’t let you put an oil well on your family’s property.” I told him.

“What?”

“You said it yourself. Your grandfather hated every oil well that sprung up. He wouldn’t want you to turn his farm into another well in a sea of others. Your family’s farm was the one bright spot in this town. I’d hate to disrespect his memory that way.”

Rupert frowned, paused, and leaned closer to me and whispered. “You do realize my grandfather hated you? He was stuck living where he was, and he had to watch his farm slowly die because of you.” He leaned back and shrugged. “I personally am fine forgetting that farm. It’s dead anyway. Might as well make some money from the land!”

“Doesn’t matter, you can’t do it.”

“You remember the string of broken wells ten years ago?”

I pursed my lips. “Yes, we almost went under.”

“My grandfather sabotaged them.”

“Huh.” 

“Not to mention the bed bug infestation, the fire thirteen years ago . . .” He whispered again. “The high levels of radiation in the area.”

“The what?”

“But it’s all moot,” he smiled to everyone. “I have seniority over all of you. So I’m doing what I want with my land.” He laughed and stretched out his arms. “There’s enough oil to share, is there not?”

His words faded into a dusty haze.

Rules were rules. 

All I could do was remember the waving stalks of wheat.

Hector was right.