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part 3 of the story
The Stiff Smile Of Salvador’s Cat

Antoni “Summer” Klopotowski

    Clouds part to reveal a warm, golden sun. A wind picks up, carrying more clouds from the ocean, and the sun is lost. Then the clouds part in another place and the sun shines again. A group of women in jeans and blouses sit at a cafe in eager, breathless conversation; red chain-cafe coffee cups in hand. Two kids ride their new scooters down the sidewalk. A pair of gray-haired men smile, play guitar and sing to a group of admirers.
    In the parking lot of the shops of Laurel Street, Matt kneels over, hands on his knees, and pants. Eli lifts a trash can in his arms, attaches it to the truck, and hits the button. There is black grime on the stomach of his shirt.
    “That was a good idea us all gettin’ out,” Bryan says, panting, as he drags a trash can. His neck is drenched in sweat. “We’re almost done for the day.”
    Salvador flips the page on his checklist and crosses an address off.
    “I’m going to smoke good today.” Eli says, “I’ve got one more job first.”
    “Another day of work.” Matt smiles a stiff smile as he looks up, his hands on his knees. “It feels good to have discipline, man.”
    “True,” Eli says as he tosses a trash bag up into the truck. “Makes you feel proud of what you do,”
    Bryan’s phone rings.
    “It’s the boss, y’all.” Bryan puts the phone to his ear, “Hey! We’re almost done.”
    Bryans brows furrow, his breath heavy.
    “Can’t somebody else get it?” he asks, surprised. He takes a deep breath. “It’s because we’ve got extra trash already today, due to Christmas.”
    Bryan sighs, “Okay.”
    He nods.
    “Sure. We’ll get it.”
    He nods, his eyes downcast.
    “Yes sir. No problem.”
    He ends the call and looks up.
    “Two people from group 6 called out sick. Manager said we’ve got another three service areas to do today,” Bryan says. ‘Probably havin’ Christmas with their families...”
    “That’s ridiculous!” Eli says. “I’ve got another job, man! I’ve got to pick up my daughter from day-care in Oakland in three hours.”
    “That’s twice the regular service areas. Plus, we’ve got Christmas trees,” Matt says. He wipes his forehead with a sleeve. “I’m tired. We’ve been handling cans for three hours, man.”
    Bryan takes a deep breath.
    “Well, if the manager called, we’ve got to get it done.” Bryan says, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, y’all, that’s how it works.”
    “Well, at least we are getting our pay.” Salvador says in a quiet tone, “We’ll have made extra.”
    “Yeah, but extra of what to start with, man...,” Eli says. “It doesn’t make no difference.”
    “Well, let’s get it done,” Bryan says, “I know we were all expectin’ to be finished soon. I’m as for that as y’all are. But the bottom line is that the faster we get it done the faster we can all go home.”
    Bryan sighs, looks up and gazes down the street, his arms crossed. The rest of the men do the same. Shops and buildings line each side of the street, neighbors talk over coffee, a family walks their dog, and in front of every shop as far as one can see stand full, black San Mateo County trash cans.

    The truck is parked on a high, woody hill. Houses here are even more grand, with expensive modern architecture, big backyards in forests of pine trees, some have tennis and basketball courts, and each of the houses have views. From these hills you can see all of San Carlos, which sprawls toward the dark blue of the Bay, the cities of Hayward and Oakland on the other side, the green winter East Bay Hills, and to the north are the skyscrapers of San Francisco, but they are buried in the fog now. The sun comes out and shines, golden light shimmers in windows of cars and houses of the valley; then the sun is lost behind clouds again.
    Eli pants and his shirt is drenched in sweat around his neck, his back, and his armpits. A green stain drips down his vest. He gazes over the view. “There’s Aaliyah,” he says under his breath as he smiles.
    Wheels rumble as Matt drags two trash cans with haste towards the truck. As he sees Eli taking a rest, Matt tries to lift the trash can himself. His arms shake as he tries to pick it up. There is a hollow boom. Trash spills all over the sidewalk. The trash can has fallen. He takes a deep breath, then kneels and begins to gather it in the can with his gloved hands. Eli kneels and helps him.
    Two men, in khakis, boat shoes, and sweaters pass them on the sidewalk. Eli looks up. The men look down, away and walk on.
    “Well, there’s a task Daniel will be spared from,” one of the men says in a hushed tone. The men grin at each other.
    “Any man who has graduated from high school would be spared from that.”
    “Well, maybe a UC Santa Cruz graduate wouldn’t be,” one of them says,
    “Yeah, or someone with a degree from UC Santa Barbara,” the man laughs. “That’s a difficult job to get. You need experience.”
    Eli and Matt watch the men go.
    “Do they think we didn’t hear them?” Matt says.
    “I heard ‘em’ alright,” Eli says.
    “Do you know how hard it is to finish college?” Matt asks. “How hard it is to get a job with a degree in this country?”
    “Well, if I had the time and money to go to college, not even the best ones, I’d go. If I did that, I’d go and get a job that pays more than 13 dollars an hour...” Eli shrugs. “I’d work hard. I know I could do that. I’d take the same care, focus and energy as I do here; just on a computer codin’ or somethin’. We’d live in San Carlos, my daughter would go to a good school, and she’d have all the toys she wants...”
    “It’s a scam, dude,” Matt says. “Trust me. For most people it’s four years of memorizing worthless facts for a shitty office job and the rest of your life in debt.”
    “Well, they’ve got the degree. Somehow, they live in San Carlos. They’ve got the Teslas. They got the successful kids, everything. I’ve got 3 jobs; a daughter and I’m living in East Oakland...”
    “God works in mysterious ways...,” Matt says, eyes on the concrete.
    He wipes the sweat on his forehead with his arm, sits down on the curb, and hugs his knees.
    “Sometimes I don’t see it though, man...” Matt says as he pants, his eyes down. “It doesn’t seem fair...”

    The clouds float to the east and evanesce as the sun shines. Blue sky is all that remains. There are more people about now; in Porsches, Teslas, and SUVs, on the way to a job, a cafe, or the gym, yawning and turning up the radio...
    The garbage truck rumbles in the hot parking lot of a church. The church stands on a crest of a hill that overlooks San Carlos, and larger green hills spotted with homes rise from behind. Two palm trees stand in front of the black church. The tall black cross on the roof of the church drowns in the morning sun. A pigeon sits on the cross and stretches its wings.
    Bryan crushes a water bottle in his hand as he drinks. Eli tosses a bag in the rear of the truck, sweat dripping down the front, the back, the armpits of his shirt, and a fresh, wet white stain runs down the leg of his jeans. Salvador pulls a loud trash can with both hands and walks backwards. Matt drags trash from the far side of the lot.
    A man and a woman emerge from the brown wooden rear doors of the church. They are both dressed professionally, in buttoned up shirts and slacks. They have serious expressions, their arms crossed, and they speak in hushed tones. The man’s face flushes red.
    “I wouldn’t be the one giving attitude here,” the woman cocks her eyes as she speaks loudly.
    “Oh, sure, I’m the one who’s wrong,” the man says, his chin out and eyes hard. “You know I did nothing bad and now you go and make up lies to the pastor.” He shakes the car keys in his hand. “I wonder why...”
    “Oh, yeah?!” The woman shouts, “You gave that slut from your job a lot of honesty then! Yup, you were the one who lived true by God’s word. I’m so sorry.”
    “Hey! Ethan and Mia!” Matt shouts, with a confused smile, as he drags a can. “How are you?”
    The man’s gaze is frantic as he looks around him. His eyes meet Matt’s for a second. His face pales.
    “Be quiet.” the man says in a hushed tone to the woman, “You’ll wake every-”
    “-sure, I’ll wake them! I’ll wake the whole San Carlos! Everyone ought to know that you’re a cheater, Walter! A liar and a cheater! Where were you on Christmas night?!”
    “I don’t see how that can b-”
    “Where were you, Walter?!”
    The man’s face flushes red.
    Is this how you want to raise our kids?! To fight all the damn time?! So, what if I went out for one drink with a woman while you were raising our kids on bullshit! A woman I knew from work of all places?! I’m the one with the job.” He gestures to a Tesla model X that stands in the parking lot, “You have me to thank for this! If you keep shouting all the time you’ll raise our kids to be degenerates! They’ll be going to therapy because of you! They’ll grow up to be drug addicts, McDonald’s workers, damn garbage men! This is why it isn’t working out between us, Mary. You’re a bossy, pretentious bitch!”
    At this moment, Salvador trips over a shoelace and falls to the ground of the parking lot. His glasses fall beside him and crack. Eli walks to his side with haste and gives him a hand. The arguing man looks at them and a vein pops out on his neck:
    “What the fuck are you lying around for?! Get to work! Take out my damn trash! You know how much I make a year?! I could talk to your manager and get you fired as easy as that! I see you Mexicans and Blacks here every week! In San Carlos, of all towns!”
    “Ethan, man, calm down,” Matt tries.
    “You’re nothing but some fuckups, you understand that?!” the man goes on, shouting down at Eli and Salvador on the cement. “Poor, stupid, uneducated fuckups! You dirty from taking out the trash all day?! I have an MBA, do you even have your GED?!”
    Salvador says, “Pendejo,” under his breath, looks to Eli from the ground, anxious. Matt pales. Eli glares with wide eyes.
    “Well, do you even speak English?!” the man shouts. “Do you know that we’re in an English-speaking country?”
    The truck door slams. They look up. Bryan walks down the steps. His steps are slow and controlled; he breathes heavily. He has his hands on his belt. His face is red.
    “Sir, I’d calm down if I were you,” Bryan says calmly as he approaches, his eyes hard. He stands in front of the woman, whose eyes are teary, and crosses his arms.
    “And who are you to tell me to calm down?!” the man shouts. “Like I said, I can give one call to your manager, and you’ll have to look for a new minimum wage job tonight!”
    “Sure. Go ahead,” Bryan says with more power now. His chest rises and falls faster. “So you went and got your MBA, right?”
    The man smiles, arches his head up to look Bryan in the eye.
    “I did, and where did you graduate from?”
    “If you’ve got to know, I did 15 years in San Quentin. It might come as a surprise to know I’ve graduated from high school, too.” Bryan says, his face firm.
    “Well, congratulations,” the man says. “That’s some accomplishment.”
    Bryan maintains his glare. “I might not have a degree from any college,” Bryan says, breathing fast, “or a Tesla Model X, or a wife or family, but I’ll go as far as to say I’m more educated than you are. In fact, all the rest of us are, too. Yup, we’ve all done our homework. If you can’t bother with respect for your woman, the mother of your children, from what I overheard, or somebody from a different culture, or a man with a different skin color than ya’, with your Tesla model X, in this town, at a Church of all places, you might be more of an idiot than all the rest of us put together,” Bryan says. His lips grow to a stiff smile. “And, as is in life, the fool is often screwed over by the very thoughts he thinks.”
    Fear is in the man’s eyes. Bryan stands about a foot over the arguing man, so he has to arch his head up to look at him.
    “Yup. You heard that right,” Bryan says calmly, face flushed red.” You’re lucky I ain’t askin’ for your name, because I’d be glad to speak with your manager. My suggestion is you go along. We’ll act like this ain’t never happened.”
    The man looks into Bryan’s eyes, turns around, spits, gets in the Tesla, shuts the door, and drives off. Sniffling, the woman drys a tear with her hand and opens the rear door of an SUV parked beside the Tesla. She grabs three red gift-wrapping wrapped presents, walks towards the dumpster, and tosses them.
    “Thank you.” she says to Bryan in a soft tone. “Throw these away with the rest of the trash.”
    “No problem.” Bryan says, his eyes searching on the ground.
    She gets in the SUV, shuts the door, and drives off.
    “That guy was somethin’ else, man,” Eli says, shaking his head. “He was messed up in the head.”
    “He was, man. He was always so nice at church. They’d stick around with their kids and talk to everyone after the service,” says Matt, his arms crossed. He leans on the truck, his eyes thoughtful. He looks up with a stiff smile. “You alright, Salvador?”
    “Yes, I’m okay,” Salvador says, his eyes wide. “Bryan, thank you.”
    Eli looks at Bryan fondly, “Yeah, thanks man.”
    “You told him off in a way he’ll remember, man,” Matt says, “I could never do that...”
    Bryan looks at the ground, his eyes pensive. “Well, let’s get back to work, y’all.” He lets out a sigh, “We’ve got a lot more to get done...”

    Salvador drags a trash can that rumbles on the rough concrete. As he reaches the truck, Eli squats and grabs hold. As he tries to attach it to the truck, the trash can falls backwards, crashes on the ground, and two black bags fall out.
    “It’s nothin’,” Bryan says, smiling a stiff smile, “I got it.”
    He tosses a bag in the rear of the truck. Then he spins the other up and down by the ties as he laughs. “It’s like lassoin’ a cow. He laughs, “except we ain’t in Georgia.”
    “Have you done that in real life?” Matt asks, smiling a stiff smile. He wipes his forehead in a dirty sleeve.
    “Sure.” Bryan says, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his neck, “did it all the time.”
    As he spins the bag around the bag rips, and some metal shines in the sun.
    “Fuck!” Bryan says. He holds his arm and hides it away.
    “Here, man. You’re cut. Let me see it,” Eli says. He reaches for Bryan’s arm.
    Bryan pulls back his arm in a fast reflex and covers it with his hand.
    “No, it’s fine,” he says, his voice high. “Really, it’s all okay.”
    “Come on, man. You got blood drippin’ on the ground. You’re hurt.”
    “It’s nothin’!” his voice grows even higher. Bryan looks between the men with wide eyes. “Get back to work, y’all. I’ll go and wrap it with the first aid kit.”
    “You’re trippin’, man.” Eli says. “At least show us your cut. We can help you out with the bandage.”
    “I got it! It’s nothin’!”
    Bryan walks up the steps to the truck’s cabin, he holds his arm as if his arms are crossed. But his foot misses a step, and he falls on his back to the cement.
    He lay on his back. His sleeve is cut, blood flows from it and drenches his sleeve. Beside the cut, unharmed, is a tattoo of a black swastika.
    The men stand in silence. Bryan looks up at them. His eyes wide with panic.
    “Listen, y’all...”
    Eli glares, as does Salvador. Matt pales as he stares with wide eyes.
    “What the hell is that for?” Eli asks.
    Bryan looks up, opens his mouth, and closes it.
    “Is that how you spend your weekends?!” Eli shouts. “Are you a fuckin’ KKK member?! Did you want to tie a rope around my neck this whole time?!”
    Bryan looks at the tattoo on his arm, back up at the men; he hesitates, then speaks:
    “Look, I got this back in the South, before I went to prison.” His chest rises and falls faster. His eyes search. “I was abhorrent. I burned books, crosses, I owned guns, I was a racist, all you’d expect in a person with this tattoo. Now every night I wake up at 3am, my heart beatin’ a million miles a minute, with cold sweat, and I’m pukin’. I ruined my life. I did it myself. That’s the God’s honest truth, if there ever was one.” His eyes water as they flash at the cement. “I’m not that person anymore. I promise y’all. When I got out of prison, I decided I’d live with honesty. I’d live with kindness. I’d help anybody. When I got out, I told myself I’d change. I’d get a job and I’d live a good, modest life every day until it’s all done.” He shakes his head. “Look, I promise ya’, this tattoo is on my livin’, breathin’ skin, but it’s from a past life.”
    Matt looks Bryan over with thoughtfulness. Salvador looks with wide eyes at Bryan’s arm through his cracked glasses. Eli stares at Bryan, his eyes wide. A car passes. A breeze rustles the bags on the ground.
    After a moment, Eli reaches a hand out.
    Bryan takes it and stands.
    Eli looks Bryan over. The edge of his lip curls.
    “You know, I ain’t got a good n’ right past either.” Eli says, “You’re not a bad guy, man. I know people who’ve never been to prison who are much worse people than you are. You treat people with respect. You stood up for all of us back there. You’re alright, man. You can admit your mistakes. The real assholes are the ones who can’t.”
    “Thanks. That means a lot,” Bryan says, his eyes down, a bit of encouragement in his voice. “I refuse to hate any human being; Black, White, Latino, Asian, Indian, they’re all good, honest folks.”
    “And each one has demons, yet each is a child of God.” Matt says. “As you are, man. Don’t worry. We’ve gotten to know you. You’re a great guy.”
    “Yeah,” Bryan says. He looks down at the concrete. His lip curls and begins to tremble as he smiles. He looks back up at the men. He holds his arm where the wound is. “Look, y’all have your whole lives ahead of ya’. Y’all have a clean slate. I have to live with myself. I have to live with my past. I have to live with my decisions. I’m an ex-con. I’m a sanitation worker. Y’all heard how educated I am. This is what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life.”
    Bryan’s watery eyes gleam in the sunlight.
    “Y’all young men will have a much brighter future than I do. Make the most of it. Y’all can still change. Y’all can go on to work in an office one day. You can have a family and kids in San Carlos.”
    Matt shrugs, smiles a stiff smile.
    “It could still be worse,” he says.
    “You can make the most of it, too, man,” Eli says.
    “That’s what I try to think. But I’m telling y’all, it ain’t easy.” Bryan says.
    He looks at the ground, the edge of his lip trembles as it curls.
    “Well, let’s get these Christmas presents done with, y’all.”
    “What about that cut, man?!” shouts Eli as he smiles. “Let’s wrap it up before you pass out on us.”
    “Sure, Bryan smiles with wrinkles in the corners. “Let’s get it done with.”

    The sunshine falls on the sanitation workers in the church lot. The palm trees in front of the church shimmer, and a breeze blows their leaves about. An ad for Christian pre-schooling waves in the breeze. The white bird on the cross of the church flies away. Across the street, four men and women talk and laugh by a sign that says Eaton Park Hiking Trail.
    Matt drags the dumpster. Eli leans on the truck and rubs an eye; sweat drenches his back, his armpits, and the neck of his shirt. Bryan stands in the shadow of the truck, also sweaty, his arm wrapped in a bandage. Salvador stands with his hands in his pockets, dirt of the parking lot on his back, wide eyes behind cracked glasses at the ground.
    “Should we really dump these?” Matt asks, his tired eyes looking over the presents in the dumpster.
    “Well,” Bryan says as he looks, too, “the rules are that if it’s in the dumpster, we should.”
    As they think this rule over there is a cry from the dumpster. The men look toward the source of the sound, then at each other. They hear it again; sad and afraid.
    Matt’s brows furrow. He leans over the edge of the dumpster and digs around. The cry is heard again.
    “I think the sound is coming from this,” Matt says, as he raises a Christmas gift in his hand. “The gift that Mia dumped.”
    The box is wrapped in red gift paper, has a sticker that reads “For the Whole Family” and has holes in the sides. The cry sounds again. Matt rips open the wrapping paper.
    “Jesus...”
    Matt reaches in the box, and, in his glove, he raises a black and white kitten.
    “Well, what do you know... A cat,” Eli says, smiling. “He’s got to have used up one of his nine lives by now.”
    Matt takes off a glove and strokes the cat’s fur. The cat purrs.
    “Ain’t he a handsome fella,” Bryan smiles. “Who would toss a kitten into the trash, though? It would’ve been dumped in a landfill. Those folk were somethin’ else...” Bryan pets the kitten through his glove. “Well, hello, buddy. It’s your lucky day.”
    “You guys know what this means?” Matt says.
    “Let me take a picture; Aaliyah will want to see this.” Eli grins as he reaches in his pocket. “She gon’ get mad and be like ‘Why didn’t you bring it home for me?’”
    Eli looks at the kitten and smiles with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. “What are we going to do with him, though?”
    Bryan smiles with wrinkles in his eyes.
    “I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Hey, Salvador!”
    He catches Salvador’s gaze. Salvador walks up. Bryan hands him the kitten. Salvador pets it, and while he does so his eyes grow warm and happy, with wrinkles in the corners, for the first time that day, or any day the men have ever seen him.
    “But what about the policy of the company?” Salvador asks.
    “If anything comes up, give him to me. I’ll keep him at my house, and you can visit him, man,” says Eli. “I’ll feed him, he’ll run around the backyard, and my daughter will definitely show him some love.”
    “Thank you,” Salvador smiles. “This is so great. Even as I spoke of a pet.” The kitten purrs. “It’s a miracle.”
    Bryan looks up at the sky. A cloud passes over the sun and puts them in shade. Then, the cloud reveals the sun again.
    Bryan shrugs and smiles. “Merry day after Christmas, y’all.”
    “Merry Christmas.” the rest of the dirty, sweaty, tired garbage men say.
    Bryan looks around, his arms crossed, and his bottom lip trembles.
    “You know, I lived alone in a cell for fifteen years,” Bryan says, rapture clear in his eyes and voice. “Who knows how this cat came to Salvador’s hands. Who knows how life works behind the curtains. All I know is that when you’re in prison, lying on a steel bed right next to your toilet, you think the world or humanity or God or the universe or whatever is over with ya’ for good. Ya’ think he’s took your life, tossed it away in the fire and done with ya’. You think you will never be forgiven.” Bryan smiles, and his voice grows higher, “But you can be forgiven. I’ve seen a lot of life. I’ve met a lot of folks. As an ex-con, as a sanitation worker, as an uneducated dumbass like I am, you might get to hatin’ and feelin’ hopeless because these big houses, churches and Tesla model X’s seem unfair. But I’ve been thinkin’: We’re all the same. We’ve all got the same eyes, the same hands, the same minds, and the same hearts. We’re all equal in our bullshit. Despite that fool back there, despite us not bein’ equal in money and education, I still think most folk in places like San Carlos are good folk. I believe it. People here work hard, they’ve got relationships, they’ve got kids...There might be a few rotten peaches, but I forgive ‘em.” He shrugs, takes a deep breath, and straightens up. “God or the universe or the planet or whatever will still bless ya’, like this cat here for Salvador. As true as the smile’s on our faces. It’s all the same in the end.”
    “Yeah!” Matt says, his smile wide. “True words, man.”
    “You’ve got a point,” says Eli. “I thought this society was a cold, hateful place, but then my daughter was born, and I thought, ‘if a sweet angel like this came from a woman like my baby momma, then there’s got to be hope.’”
    The men smile knowingly. None of them laugh.
    The kitten purrs as Salvador strokes its fur.
    “If you do good, good comes back to ya’...,” Bryan says.
    Bryan smiles with wrinkles at the edges of his wet eyes.
    “Well, let’s get back to work, y’all.”

    Monkey bars reflect the sun sharply, as well as the windows of an ice cream truck, metal benches, and the panes of sunglasses above stiff smiles. Children run, shout, and play. Parents talk on benches with their legs crossed, or on grass with a picnic set up. They talk about the best new tv shows, movies, tease their spouses, and discuss whatever they do for a living.
    Bryan drags a full, black trash can towards the truck. Sweat drenches his shirt. A stain of some dark green liquid stains his jeans. He wipes his wet forehead in a sleeve, attaches the can to the back, and hits the button. He pounds the side of the truck with a fist.
    “Almost done, y’all!” Bryan shouts. “One more service area!”
    Matt smiles with wrinkles in his eyes. He rests on a curb, elbows on his knees, and pants. “It feels good to do something all the way to the end, man. It feels good to achieve something. Another day of hard work.”
    “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be glad to sit down and rest tonight.” Bryan smiles. “Well, until tomorrow!”
    Two kids run past them. One throws a football towards the other, but the other doesn’t catch it. The ball rolls up to Bryan.
    “Go long!” he shouts.
    Bryan throws it 20 yards with his bandaged arm, and the boy catches it.
    “Now don’t fumble that again, or I’ll have to make ya’ do 50 pushups!”
    Eli puts his head through the window. He grins, a loose dreadlock hangs over his forehead. Black grime stains his cheek.
    “Almost time to smoke a fat blunt!” Eli shouts.
    Matt smiles and shakes his head at the ground. Bryan laughs loud and well, wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
    A girl asks her mother “What’s a blunt?”
    “It’s a grown-up word,” she replies, and looks at them angrily. “Come on, let’s go get some ice cream.”
    “No, Eli!” Salvador yells. “There are children!”
    Loud, hearty laughter comes from the truck’s window.
    “No, no, I know it is all forgiven.”

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