Marry Me at Joshua Tree
Story by Nathan Barber
EXT. RENTON AVE S & 76TH AVE S BUS STOP - DAY
A BOY, 20 years old, waits for the bus. He's the only one at the stop. He's small for his age. He could still pass for 16, though his expression says he feels 75. He drags his cigarette like it owes him something.
A WOMAN surprises The Boy from behind the bus stop.
WOMAN
Hey, you look a lot like my son Nathan.
The Woman's voice is raspy, how you'd imagine an ashtray would sound if it could talk. She's frail, smaller than The Boy, skin sun-damaged. If she lost any more weight she might drop dead. Just skin and bone. She barely casts a shadow in the bright sunshine.
The Boy freezes in shock.
BOY
Uh... Hi Mom...
The Woman dances with joy.
WOMAN
Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!
She jumps up and down and grabs him by the arms. He tries to hide an embarrassed smile forming in the corner of his mouth.
WOMAN
Are you ready to join me in the afterlife so we can get married at Joshua Tree?
The boy feels a pit in his stomach. He realizes she makes no sense anymore. She's totally gone, and he's not sure how to answer.
BOY
Uhhh...
WOMAN
Hey, do you have any money?
The boy's heart sinks.
BOY
No, but I have a cigarette.
He hands over a few cigarettes. She takes them. It's an empty exchange, as if he's just some stranger. He hands her his lighter. There's a moment of silence as she cups her hand around the end of the cigarette to light it.
BOY
Hey, how did you and dad meet?
The woman's face goes stone cold as she exhales the drag from her cigarette. Her voice becomes irate.
WOMAN
I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about that man. He's the devil.
Nobody ever wanted to talk about anything. He takes a drag.
WOMAN
Oh boy, it's so great to see you!
BOY
Yeah... It's...
The bus pulls up to the stop. The hydraulics hiss as it comes to a halt and the door swings open. The boy drops his cigarette and stomps it out.
BUS
Route one-oh-six, International District, Chinatown Station.
BOY
I'll see you around I guess.
He boards the bus.
The woman starts singing incomprehensible nonsense and follows him.
WOMAN
(gleefully)
Oh boy oh boy! I'll see you in Joshua Tree!
INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS
The Boy sits down in the seat. She blows him kisses through the window as the bus pulls away.
The Boy puts his head down and pulls out his phone. He writes a text to Jon. The text reads, "I just ran into Mom."
EXT. RENTON AVE S & S 126TH ST BUS STOP - DAY
The Boy waits again, alone, at a bus stop, smoking another cigarette. It's a different stop this time, down the road from the previous one. There's an espresso stand about 15 feet behind the stop.
The Woman approaches him again, not in a surprising way this time. She's chipper and happy to see him.
WOMAN
Hey!
The Boy pulls his headphones out of his ear.
BOY
Oh, hey.
He's indifferent to seeing her.
WOMAN
What're ya doing?
BOY
Heading to work.
WOMAN
Got any smokes?
BOY
Sure.
Another empty exchange. He looks at her, taking her in, trying to note which features of hers he inherited. Her frame, her jawline, her nose, her eyes, her laugh. He's spent most of his life wondering where half of him came from and it's standing right in front of him. Was he looking into his own future?
WOMAN
You know, you boys were sold into sex trafficking at Disney. Those fuckers took you boys from me. I'm working on the case right now. Giving info to the Feds about Gandhi's secret police. They're following me, but I'm onto them.
She punctuated every word with her cigarette.
The Boy gets frustrated, tired of her ramblings. He just wants a sincere conversation with his mother for once.
BOY
Do you know how hard it was to grow up without you? Do you know how much of a monster Dad was?
The Woman shuts down.
WOMAN
I don't want to talk about it.
Her stonewalling sets him off and emotions escalate.
BOY
You left us! I went through hell without you!
WOMAN
(desperately)
You were stolen from me! They stole you from me! They were going to kill me!
The bus pulls up and the door swings open.
BUS
Route one-oh-six, International District, Chinatown Station.
She tries to follow him onto the bus.
WOMAN
They were going to kill me! Your father is the devil!
At this point she's causing a scene, disturbing everyone in earshot. The bus driver gets up and stops her from entering the bus almost as if he's rehearsed this before. She backs off onto the sidewalk.
INT. BUS - CONTINUOUS
The Boy rushes to the back of the bus and sinks into the seat, wishing he could become invisible as The Woman keeps screaming nonsense and hits the bus as it pulls away, leaving her behind. Her voice fades away to the sound of the bus engine revving.
EXT. NEVZAT'S ESPRESSO STAND, RENTON AVE S & S 126TH STREET - EARLY MORNING
It's early in the morning. The sun hasn't risen yet. The neon "open" sign glows in the morning fog. The Boy approaches the espresso stand.
BOY
Mornin' Nevzat.
His breath pours from his mouth and joins the early morning fog. His nose is red from the cold.
NEVZAT
Good morning, how are you?
Through the window on the other side, The Boy sees The Woman roaming the street. He ducks behind the cover of the coffee stand.
BOY
Shit.
NEVZAT
What's going on?
BOY
(quietly)
You see that woman?
Nevzat looks over his shoulder, through the window and spots her.
NEVZAT
Yeah, you know her?
BOY
That's my mom. I don't want her to see me.
NEVZAT
Oh my... She came by the other day screaming at me, calling me a child molester and a pervert because I had my daughter in here with me.
BOY
Yeah, she's...
NEVZAT
She causes problems for everyone around here. She's not allowed in a lot of these places anymore.
BOY
Jesus Christ...
NEVZAT
Well... What will it be my friend?
BOY
Uh, white chocolate raspberry mocha please.
NEVZAT
Coming right up.
The Boy keeps cover behind the espresso stand, shifting out of The Woman's possible line of sight as she aimlessly roams and rambles to herself down the street. Nevzat extends his hand outside the window with the drink. The Boy takes it and tries to pay.
NEVZAT
Don't worry about it buddy.
The Boy is embarrassed and wonders if Nevzat's generosity is pity in disguise, but he keeps that to himself.
BOY
Thank you Nevzat... Have a nice day.
NEVZAT
You too, friend.
The bus approaches through the fog and The Boy goes on to catch it.
EXT. RENTON AVE S & S 126TH ST BUS STOP - EARLY MORNING
It's a cold, dark morning again. The Boy waits for the bus at the stop near Nevzat's espresso stand. He sips on his coffee and cups it with both hands to keep warm. He has his headphones in to fill the silence. There's a few other people at the bus stop, everybody keeps their distance.
He goes to take a sip but is blindsided by a force that grabs him by the collar. He stumbles, dropping and spilling the coffee and his headphones come loose.
WOMAN
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE!
The Woman has The Boy by the collar. Her nose is pressed up against his. She's so animated she's spitting while she screams in his face.
WOMAN
STOP FOLLOWING ME! STOP FOLLOWING ME!
The bus, the sweet, sweet bus couldn't have come at a better time. The door swings open, the hydraulics hiss and the automated voice makes its announcement.
BUS
Route one-oh-six, International District, Chinatown station.
The Boy pries The Woman off him and boards the bus in a hurry. She follows right behind him, hitting and screaming.
Int. BUS - CONTINUOUS
WOMAN
I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! STOP FOLLOWING ME! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE GET OUT OF MY LIFE!
As soon as The Boy passes the Bus Driver, they get up and prevent The Woman from boarding. The Driver gets back in their seat, shuts the door and takes off before The Woman can do anything.
We hear The Woman screaming over the roar of the engine.
WOMAN
You're the devil! God will handle you! He will punish you!
Her voice fades out as the bus drives away.
The Boy sinks so deep into his seat he almost disappears into his jacket, like a turtle hiding in its shell.
EXT. RENTON AVE S & S 126TH ST BUS STOP - EARLY MORNING
Another dark and cold morning. The Boy stops as he approaches the bus stop and surveys his surroundings, looking for any sign of The Woman. The place is completely silent. Nevzat isn't at his coffee stand yet. He's completely alone.
He approaches the bus stop with caution, looking over both shoulders as he steps closer and closer. Regretting every step he takes forward, he wishes he could just turn back and hide in the room he's renting.
He reaches the bus stop. He spots something out of the corner of his left peripheral. He barely glances over and sees a figure hunched over on the sidewalk about 40 feet away.
Is that a person? He thinks to himself. Is that her?
He didn't get a good look at whatever it is. He glances over again, quickly. The hunched figure looks back at him. He looks away before any kind of eye contact could be made.
That's got to be her.
Murmurings start to emerge from the figure’s direction. We can't make out what's being said. We can only pick up on the tone. It's deranged, aggressive, almost sounds possessed.
He glances over when the voice starts rising. Yeah, it's her, he thinks to himself. He just keeps looking forward, pretending to not hear her. She raises her voice now to the point of being audible.
WOMAN
(sporadically, fluctuating in volume, incomprehensible gibberish)
This catches The Boy's attention.
WOMAN
Motherfucker, mother fucker, MOTHERFUCKER!
The Boy stares forward and does his best to ignore what's going on. It feels like an eternity, but the bus emerges over the horizon.
Relief sets in and he thinks it's all about to be over, for now. The street light turns red just before the bus gets across the intersection.
Great, just great, he thinks to himself.
The Woman is escalating again and now speaks through her teeth with her jaws clenched.
WOMAN
Fucking fucker. Devil, devil DEVIL. I'll kill you, I'll KILL you.
Green light. The bus approaches and The Boy gets on unscathed this time.
INT. BUS - EARLY MORNING
Another dark morning. Darker than the rest so far. We're a couple stops farther down the route. The Boy sits on the right side of the bus, facing the sidewalk. The bus slows down as it approaches a stop ahead.
The Boy spots The Woman at the bus stop ahead, ranting to herself, pacing back and forth erratically. We can't make sense of the words as they sound like gibberish, a language of her own. The bus comes to a stop.
He sinks deep into his seat, below the window. He watches the front of the bus, praying she doesn't get on. The door closes and the bus starts off. As it pulls away, he pokes his head up and looks back as The Woman paces back and forth, talking to herself, fading into darkness.
FADE TO BLACK.
That was the last time I ever saw my mother. I never really knew her in the first place. It's easier to say that she's dead than it is to explain what really happened. This was only a small drop in the full story of what's transpired over the years. She left before I could form solid memories, and the ones I do have of her aren't very detailed anymore.
While writing this I had to come to terms with the fact that I can't recall ever saying goodbye to her as a child. One day she was just gone. Maybe the way I remember it is true, maybe it's my version of the truth I convinced myself to be reality. Maybe it's the version I chose to believe because it's more comforting than the cold reality. That's how life is though.
I remember what it would sound like when her body would hit the wall my ear was pressed up against, and the way the apartment would shake. The little moments of silence as she'd be gaining her strength to fight off my father. The red and blue flashing along our bedroom walls, turning the dark of night into strobes of red and blue daylight cast across the apartment complex. I remember running back to my twin as we would sit in silence, looking each other in the eyes, waiting for the lights to drive away. That's when we knew we could come out of our room. This was too common of an occurrence in our household.
I've spent a lot of my life trying to understand who she is or was. The woman I had hoped her to be had died long before I was born. By the time my twin and I were born, she was teetering on the verge of too far gone. I think her marriage with my father and losing us is what really broke her.
I'd meet adults throughout my childhood who would tell me they knew her. My eyes would light up, and I'd ask them all the questions I had been dying to ask, hoping I could piece together the kind of person she was. They usually looked disappointed and would tell me she loved me very much.
She used to be beautiful — a model in fact. I heard all the boys had crushes on her, and she was the embodiment of a fun-loving Cali girl from San Diego. At the age of 21 she was studying to become a paralegal. She was hit by a 19-year-old drunk driver on her way home from work one night. Her head smashed against the driver's side window, and she had to learn how to read, write, walk and talk again. I wish this was explained to me sooner because I might have been more patient and understanding with her. Maybe that explains her spiral into drug abuse, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and more, or maybe I'm making excuses for her.
All my life I've wanted to believe there's good left in her, but this world has been so unforgiving and uncaring for those who need patience and understanding. She never stood a chance against this world. It chewed her up and spat her out.
I wish I could have her back, but those last interactions with her showed me there's nothing left to get back. It seems to me when someone's psyche truly snaps, they're gone for good. I see kids who have loving mothers, and I watch in awe at how they interact. It takes me back to how she would wiggle my toes and do "this little piggy" while she would blow raspberries on my belly, and I would laugh hysterically. I see adults who still have their parents, and I feel jaded and angry at them for reasons I can't articulate.
I often wonder how much of myself is a reflection of her. I like to think I have her smile, even though I can't remember what it looks like. I like to think I have her laugh, which I can still faintly hear. It gets quieter and quieter each year.
Last I heard, Carol Walters was released from the residential mental health unit of prison in San Diego in 2020 and was back on the streets. I hope she finds peace in death soon, because the life she lives is not worth living in my eyes. Last I saw her, her eyes were lifeless. Panicked. Empty.
Illustration by Kain Kaiyala
Illustration by Kain Kaiyala
Illustration by Kain Kaiyala