I walk the line - Part Two
Avon + Scientology = !!!
Read Part 1 here
A picture I took of the Scientologists' mesa,
at the depth of Corazon canyon
The road to Trujillo passes nothing, nothing but a pistol-pitted
sign welcoming travelers to the Great Plains, nothing but dry wind and
gold prairie, the asphalt twisting in deference to property line and
gulch, a thousand cows standing bored sentinel. 11 and 8 took turns
with the binoculars, spying on ranchers in crusted boots, scrawny
cowdogs, a lone peregrine falcon hovering over a patch of quiet grass.
I drove slower than the speed limit, watched the sun fall from my ears
to shoulder in the rear view mirror.
"Mom, do you think we'll find it? Do you think they'll buy some
Avon?" 11 cleared his throat and picked up the glossy tabloid I
purchased as we filled our tank with gas. "Why do people believe this
stuff anyway? It says here that the Scientologists think an alien named
Xenu stuffed us full of evil spirits. That's crazy."
He rested his head against the window, his eyes scanning left to
right as he read about a pilot who flew over the secret compound. I
knew he didn't expect an answer. I kept silent. I thought about the
Avon samples I taped inside the brochures, tiny lipsticks in cherry and
sandalwood, the new Anew Intensive Age Treatment for Day, rub-on
fragrance swatches of Imari and Today. Do Scientologists wear makeup?
Do they eschew matters of the flesh? I wasn't sure, only knew that this
trip was for my boys, for me, a way to pass time in our new town, a
means of gathering new dust on our feet.
We turned with the highway at Trujillo. A black dog with open sores
laid at the entrance to a vacant service station, his tail wagged, hit
the side of the old-fashioned pumps. A swarm of flies rose from his
body, fell again.
"Mom! This town only has five houses!" 8 counted two mobile homes, a
shack, a simple stucco residence, another, until they disappeared
behind us, until we turned with the road again and the plains turned to
red rock canyon, turned to a deep dip in the earth, and I slowed to ten
miles per hour, kept the car from sliding too fast down the steep
mountain.
11 grabbed the map and matched our position with the satellite
imagery. "Ok. Mom, we're almost here. Look, see that mesa?" I followed
the line of his arm and pointed finger across the scarlet land to a
huge oval protrusion of sage and rock and sunburnt clay.
8 squirmed in the backseat. He watched me watching 11 and he raised
his voice in surprise. "I know why they serve Red and Green chili
everywhere in New Mexico!"
I turned off the road, onto a hard dirt trail, let the car idle in
park as 11 continued his search and map. "Yeah? Why is that?"
"It's the land. It's all red and green. This is a Christmas canyon."
I stepped out of the car. 8 was right. The land spoke of chilies and
twinkling lights, all the shades of ochre and sage an artist can
create, all the shades beyond the palette. I raised my digital camera
and began snapping pictures of the Scientologist's mesa, my body just
yards away from the rise of ground, while 11 gazed at the top with his
spy glasses and 8 ran free, collecting bits of rock and pebble to take
home.
I wonder how long it would take to hike to the top? I stared
at the mesa, calculated its steepness, its height. We could take our
snacks and hike to the top, get a glimpse of those landing pads, maybe
see an entrance.
I turned to return to the car and nearly dropped my camera in
surprise. A long black Lincoln sat parked behind my vehicle. My boys
didn't notice. 11 sat on a boulder, the map spread between his hands, a
pencil between his teeth. 8 kneeled on the ground in front of a pile of
stones, lifting one on top of the other. I stared at the Lincoln, tried
to glimpse the occupants, but the dark windows reflected the falling
sunlight. My heart began to race.
"Boys! Let's get back in the car and drive around to the other side
of the mesa, OK?" I yelled. My words echoed off the Scientologist's
hill. I turned to look at the Lincoln, and as my boys ran to the car, a
woman in a navy blue suit opened the door and stepped out.
"Excuse me, Ma'am?"
To Be Continued...
10:13:10 AM 
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