November 24th, 2024

In PPS, Union Square in San Francisco serves as one of the backdrops in Chapter X where Ahab, previously mentioned in Chapter 1, is unveiled to the audience. Ahab in dirty attire observes Abel, who is unaware of his presence, skating on the ice rink. It is here that Ahab contemplates his plan to exact revenge on Abel.

Last night, I stumbled upon an unusual gathering at the entrance of Annsville Creek, inside the old Boxing First Gym. It was lively with Latinos and the rapid rhythms of Mexican-style music, evoking images of red swing dresses and swift, pointed boots... a stereotype, admittedly. It's astonishing how some can dance so swiftly to an offbeat rhythm and still make it work.

A somewhat charming man with a mustache offered me a beer alongside his friend; we exchanged a few words, yet I declined the beverage as I was simply passing through and not intending to partake in the celebrations. Yet. I almost accepted his offer before remembering it would be too much of a distraction. I attempted to explain this without sounding harsh, but I fear I may have been insensitive when I asked if he spoke English to ensure he understood. Although he was speaking English, his heavy accent made it difficult to comprehend. Seeing someone try so hard yet struggle evoked a sense of sadness in me.
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We exchanged warm handshakes, and I proceeded on my walk, using the time to cool off and clear my thoughts. I mulled over the happenings at Zelta's 82nd birthday party in Chapter 14. I considered renaming Zelta after the character she is based on, my ex-partner's mother, Zerita E., who was named after a gypsy woman her father admired. The year I met Zerita, she, like Zelta, had just turned 82 when we lived in San Francisco. That partner has passed away from a heart attack, I have moved, and I think Zerita, as well as another son who caused so much trouble, have also passed away. These musings were put on hold until I returned home past midnight, at which point I discovered several truths about the characters that had previously escaped me.

There is a particular joy in being taken by surprise when your characters dictate the story's direction, diverging from the initial outline—it's as if they are telling you how it should unfold, and you are merely transcribing their tale.

​CHAPTER 14:
​Zelta Erikson

On a cold and rainy December 1st, Zelta Erikson lay in bed feeling under the weather. Nonetheless, her spirits lifted with a birthday cake, festooned with what appeared to be a thousand candles, casting a glow across the room. Abel, with his booming voice, joined by Zeno, Zaide, Nurse Wilma Hope, and Rosa, encircled her, singing 'Happy Birthday' to celebrate Zelta's 82nd year. The guests, including Abel, her second son, and his close friend Zaide Brown, seemed to take charge of the festivities. However, Zelta momentarily pondered the presence of Ahab, her eldest, and his absence when they assisted her in blowing out the candles. Zeno Eliot, a distinguished gentleman highly regarded by Abel above all others, brought youthful enthusiasm to the event. Nurse Wilma and Rosa, her reliable healthcare worker and maid respectively, offered steadfast support throughout various challenges.

She favored Rosa's assistance over Nurse Wilma Hope, who often appeared too severe and regularly highlighted her errors. Despite her advanced years, she believed that the concepts of right and wrong were more ambiguous. The love and care shown at her celebration were appreciated, yet the absence of Ahab was a source of disappointment. The laughter and joy present couldn't fully bridge the void created by her eldest son's mysterious absence. Nevertheless, Zelta found comfort in the warmth and commitment of those who came together to celebrate her day.

Now, they were presenting her with gifts and vying for the honor to assist her with the first one. However, it was the gift shrouded in white cloth on an easel that held her attention the most, and Wilma Hope captured her gaze before anyone else did.

"She wants that one," Wilma indicated, gesturing towards the easel.

"Señor Zeno's offering," Rosa remarked.

"In fact, it's my present, as I was the one who commissioned it," Abel clarified, slightly tipsy from the martini he held, "Please bring it over to mother, Zeno, since it's your creation."

"Zeno is an artist?" inquired Zelta.

"Indeed, he is," Zaide affirmed proudly, remembering the impressive painting she had seen in the studio, which portrayed Zelta on horseback.

Zeno approached with the easel, a smile gracing his features. "It was an honor to paint you, Mrs. Erikson," he said, bestowing a kiss upon her cheek—a gesture laden with heartfelt emotion. It conjured memories of his biological mother and their volatile mix of love and disdain. She was the mother who both wept and raged, who had exposed him on an island where his identity was deemed a sin. They hauled him to a fervent Holiness Pentecostal church, where congregants spoke in tongues amidst tears and prayers. A dozen hands, quivering with intent, were placed upon him to exorcise his 'demons' as his mother shrieked, "You see them! I see the demons coming out. Everyone, hold your Bibles." Matthew Rae, from the sole white family among the community of tomato farmers and shrimpers, became his beacon of hope, persuading Zeno and himself to leave Queen Esther's Island for good, driven away by the hostility of its inhabitants. Escaping to Charleston, they were adrift, homeless and troubled, until the night Zeno met another guardian, a true savior, Abel Erikson

"But how could this be? I wasn't there for this," Zelta said, her gaze shifting bewilderedly from one face to another.

"Using a photograph," Abel revealed. "Rosa, could you fetch the photo album from the library? There ought to be an additional copy of the photograph I gave Zeno for mother's portrait. It's on the middle shelf, under the safe. Please bring it here so I can show the inspiration to Mother."

By now Wilma Hope had finally finished applying Zelta's makeup, a task she had been grappling with since the start of the party. "I'm aware you're not in the best of spirits, Ms. Erikson, but you look truly lovely today," Wilma remarked, taking pride in her work that featured a subtle touch of rouge, eyeshadow, and a pinkish hue of lipstick for Zelta’s thin lips.

"Yes, she does look lovely, doesn't she, Abel?" said Zaide.

Abel rolled his eyes, recalling the days when he was Zelta's favorite. Ahab had always been the golden child in their father's eyes until equilibrium was restored. Dismissing the thought, he tried to cherish the bond with Zelta as it was before, free from guilt and suspicion. However, a twinge of jealousy surfaced whenever Ahab's name was mentioned. As a child, he had longed for the same level of attention and admiration from their father that Ahab seemed to receive effortlessly. Despite reaching an understanding as adults, lingering competitiveness sometimes overshadowed his love for his brother. This continued until their father, Jacob, was heartbroken by Abel's deceit. Consequently, Jacob revised his will to exclude Ahab shortly before he passed away, unaware of the actual truth of Ahab's innocence.  He shook his head, looked at Zaide, and finally said, “You look lovely, mother,” as he poured himself another martini. He sipped, remembering Zelta kept climbing into bed with him until he was 16 years old. 16 years old! That was embarrassing for him, and sometimes he hated her for it. Hated the woman who made him. He was unable to tell the others in the room what he truly thought of a mother who wanted something he couldn't give.

As Rosa reentered the room, Zeno unveiled the portrait, eliciting a look of surprise on Zelta's face. Rosa approached to view the portrait herself. It depicted a younger Zelta with flowing blonde hair, seated on a horse, her form both graceful and beautiful. Rosa, impressed, gazed at Zeno, pondering whether he could capture her likeness with similar finesse.

Zelta's eyes widened with astonishment and nostalgia as she gazed at the painting. She was touched by how accurately Zeno had captured her youthful essence and spirit from a photograph Abel showed her. Her voice trembled slightly as she expressed her gratitude and admiration for the artist's talent. "Goodness me," she repeated, until she was weeping with happiness.

Wilma hugged her shoulder and patted her back as Zelta pulled away and stretched her arms out to Zeno, who embraced her warmly. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much, young man. But how did you do it?" Zeno recounted the discovery of the photograph in the album for her again, which she forgot so quickly. Overwhelmed with awe, she wept tears of happiness as the memory of that day and her horse, Starfire, returned and a wave of bittersweet emotions swept over her. She recalled the freedom and exhilaration of riding through the meadows, the wind in her hair, the sun on her face. Those memories of carefree days warmed her heart, mingled with a touch of longing for times past.

As the chatter continued about the portrait and more reminiscing of yesterdays, Zelta's interest in the other gifts still wrapped appeared forlorn as Wilma and Rosa opened them on her behalf, particularly their own. Abel handed the album to Zeno to take away and whispered something to Zaide about something he needed to sign as Zeno walked over to the window and sat down on the seat with the album.
​
He had seen it before but had never looked beyond Zelta's photo with Starfire. Now, he examined the other pictures of the entire family, all with dark hair except for Zelta’s blonde curls, and none of them smiling except for one boy on the right who looked identical to the boy on the left who didn't smile. Zeno squinted for a closer look. Indeed, they were the same. In the center was their father, Jacob a tall bearded man wearing a hat and suit, in a family portrait from when the boys were young, possibly teenagers. He was struck by how much Abel and Ahab resembled each other as children as well, almost like twins. Finally, he came across an older close-up photo of Ahab, which surprised him because he couldn't discern whether it was Ahab or Abel. "Abel," he called out, his voice nearly a shout.

Abel approached, martini in hand, looking like he might pass out soon. "What's up, love? By the way, thank you for bringing so much joy to Mother.”

"Is this him, your brother?" Zeno asked, gesturing towards Ahab's photograph. "Or is it you? I can’t tell."

Abel chuckled as he sat beside him on the window seat. "That’s Ahab. We may resemble twins, but we're not. I'm the better-looking one, wouldn't you agree?" He planted a kiss on Zeno's cheek, who was momentarily speechless.

“Are you the oldest?" Zeno finally continued.

"No, he is older by two whole years. Can you believe that? People always used to get us mixed up, including father and mother. It's funny how that happens. I guess it must be because of our similar looks. It's a good thing we have different birthdays or else we would have been in trouble! One time, Ahab went to my class by mistake and took a test for me. The teacher didn't notice, and neither did any of the students. It wasn't until the grades were posted that I realized I had aced a subject I was struggling with. Ahab and I had a good laugh about it, but we made sure to be more careful after that!"

"Then at one point, you were very close?" Zeno asked.

"Yes, we were. Despite some disagreements, the family remained close until our father passed away," Abel said, pausing briefly. He then added, "You know, let's not discuss it today. It's my mother's birthday, and everyone is happy. We should avoid past hurts for now. I'll explain it some other time." Abel observed the guests in the room, noting the festive atmosphere with laughter, the aroma of freshly baked cake, and cheerful music playing softly in the background. He offered Zeno a slight smile.

Rosa, still laughing, approached and glanced at the photograph they were examining. Her eyes widened in horror, and her lips pressed into a tight line, seemingly restraining words of disapproval. Her brow creased subtly, and her typically warm and welcoming manner turned to one of wary apprehension, a gesture Zeno recognized as a clear indication of Rosa's dislike for Ahab Erikson.

"Rosa," Abel said, rising to comfort her, "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, Señor Abel. Ha pasado tanto tiempo since I've thought about Señor Ahab or see a picture."

"It's just a picture, Rosa. Ahab isn't here. You're still afraid of him, aren't you?"

"Me sentí aliviado cuando lo desalojaste de la casa."

"Sigues aquí. Eso es importante. Don't worry so much, I'm working on your visa. No te deportarán."

"Espero que sí, rezo a Dios todos los días."

Zeno silently observed their exchange and glanced at Ahab's photo, recognizing him as Abel in 'Cuddles'. This realization startled him, prompting him to close the album abruptly. The loud thud as it struck the floor caught Abel and Rosa off guard just as Zaide approached.

The Eriksons reside in the last house atop the Pemberton Place steps, locally known as Pemberton Steps in PPS, situated below Twin Peaks in San Francisco.