“I know,” she said, and took another large bite. “I will. I’m sorry.”
Cristobal reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. She dropped her plastic fork and a dollop of greasy meat plopped into her lap. She bared her teeth, tried to pull away, but Cristobal squeezed until she was still.
“What happened was a mistake. You understand that shit? A fuckin’ mistake. Get that shit through your ugly fuckin’ head. That?” He pointed to her belly. “That shit ain’t right. You know it ain’t right. You think I’m just gonna sit back and let you have it? If that baby makes it out of you I’ll kill it. You hear me, Alma? I’ll fuckin’ kill it before it has a chance to take its first breath. Mamá can’t know-”
“She won’t, Cristobal. I’ll just tell her I met someone…a customer. Anybody. But not you. She’ll never know it was you. How will she know?”
“She’ll know. Mamá will know.”
Alma shook her head, grimacing at the growing pressure around her wrist. “I want my baby. It’s mine. You can’t stop me from having my baby. Our-”
“You shut the fuck up! Don’t you fuckin’ say it.”
“Let me go. Let me go!” She picked up her fork with her free hand and stabbed him in the arm. The plastic broke on impact, but it pinched enough that Cristobal released her.
“You fuckin’ bitch. Stupid fuckin’ whore!”
“Hey!”
Cristobal paused, his hands halfway across the table. Alma stood, stepped away from him, rubbed her wrist and glared at the tall Hispanic man walking toward them.
Cristobal launched himself to his feet, curled his hands into fists, and stomped toward the stranger. “What the fuck did you say, ese?”
“Why don’t you just calm down, okay? She’s pregnant, man. You’re gonna beat on your pregnant wife?”
Cristobal’s eye twitched as he continued taking steps toward this man. The closer he got to him, the more fear he could see on the guy’s face. “Wife? That’s my sister, pinche pendejo. What the fuck you tryin’ to say?”
“Okay, your sister. It doesn’t…I’m not trying to say anything, man. Just calm down.”
Cristobal thrust his head forward, catching the man on the bridge of the nose with his forehead.
“Fuuuck!”
The man fell backward, clutching his nose with both hands as blood ran down from between his fingers. Alma stepped up beside Cristobal, hugged him from the side.
“Fuck him up.”
“Get the hell off me, Alma. What did I say?” He shoved her in the chest, but she smiled and cradled her belly as she watched the blood run down the man’s hands and forearms.
“What’s your fucking problem?” The man’s voice was muffled from behind his hands. He squinted up at Cristobal, started to get up, but Alma ran past Cristobal, punched the bleeding man in the side of the face. He stumbled back to his ass.
“That’s what you get, puta.” She spat on him, kicked a cloud of dirt into his face.
Cristobal couldn’t help but laugh, and he gently pulled Alma away. “Let me handle this. Why don’t you go finish your food.”
She breathed heavily through widened nostrils as she continued to glare at the man who was now sitting up, staring at Alma with his mouth hanging open. Cristobal let him stand.
“You people are fucking crazy, man. Both of you.” The man wiped the blood from his face, studied his palm. He started to turn and walk away, then paused, took a long look at the food trailer. A light chuckle whispered as he shook his head.
“Hey, ese. Where the fuck you think you’re going?”
The man turned to face Cristobal, still taking backwards steps.
Cristobal pulled his blade from its holster at the back of his belt, scraped it across the stubble on his right cheek. “We’re not finished yet, motherfucker.”
The man’s eyes lit up then, and his head turned from left to right, looking for any sign of help. “Jesus, man. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, okay? I just came here looking to buy some tacos.”
“Tacos? We’re closed. But I’ll tell you what.” Cristobal pointed with his knife. “Why don’t you let me cut off a nice piece. Something tender and juicy. And Alma can cook it up for you, huh? She’s good, ese.”
“What?”
Alma giggled from behind Cristobal.
“I know just the place to cut. I know where all the tastiest parts are.”
“What the hell are y’all doin’ out here?”
The voice came from behind Cristobal, and he recognized it as the sheriff’s immediately. He kept his eyes on the man’s bleeding face as he slid his knife back into its sheath.
“Th-this man…he pulled a knife on me.” The man wiped the tears from his face with one hand, the other shaking as it pointed at Cristobal.
Cristobal snickered, then turned to face the sheriff. The fat son of a bitch lit a cigarette as he strolled toward them, his gut hanging low and bouncing with each step.
“What’s the problem here, Cristobal? I seen you with your knife out, so no use tryin’ to deny it.”
“Me and my sister were eating, and he walked up outta nowhere, started sticking his face in places it didn’t belong. I was just gonna cut it off for him.”
“Cut the shit,” the sheriff said, giving Cristobal a look like a father scolding his child. He stepped toward the bleeding man. “You all right, son?”
“I came out here to get some goddamn food. He was roughing her up, so I said something. That’s all.”
“You okay, Alma?” the sheriff said.
“Cristobal didn’t do anything to me. He’s lying.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” The man took quick steps toward them.
“You just settle down, son. Stay right there where you are.” The sheriff had a hand on the butt of his pistol now, and the look that spread across the stranger’s face nearly made Cristobal laugh out loud.
“Told you, Sheriff. We were minding our business. Closing up for the day.”
“This is fucking insane.” The stranger wiped a hand across his face. “Look at this. He hit me…they both hit me!”
The sheriff blew a plume of smoke into the air as he walked toward the guy. “You that young lady’s husband?”
“Excuse me?”
“I ain’t never seen you before, so I’m guessing I’m right. Why don’t you go on back to your pretty little wife? Where it’s nice and safe.”
“My wife? I don’t…”
Alma stepped up beside Cristobal, leaned her head against his arm. He let her, even wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
The man stood there staring at them all for another few seconds before turning and walking back where he came from.
“And you,” the sheriff said, facing Cristobal and smashing the smoldering butt into the dirt. “Finish up and get on home.”
“No doubt, Sheriff. That was the plan anyway.”
Alma giggled again, ran her fingernails across the small of Cristobal’s back.
“I’ll see you two in the mornin’, yeah? Tell your mama I said hello. You should bring her out one of these days, so I can tell her how much I love her cookin’.”
“Mamá's old, sir. The heat’s too much for her.”
“Well, you tell her the sheriff’s a fan, all right?”
“I’ll tell her.”
The sheriff snorted, emptied his nose into his mouth, then spat a thick wad of yellow mucus into the dirt. “Now hurry the fuck up and get on outta here.”
“Yes, sir. Won’t waste another minute.”
***
“Jesus, what happened to you?”
Felix slammed the door, kicked it. “Your fucking new favorite chefs attacked me!”
“What…what are you talking about?”
Felix punched the wall, grimaced, bared his teeth. He stormed across the room toward the bathroom, glared at himself in the mirror and tittered. “Look at this shit.”
Marta stood in the doorway, wondering if ma
ybe she should go lock the door. “Will you please tell me what happened?”
Felix threw water in his face, washed the blood away. There was a small gash on the bridge of his nose and a red welt on his left cheek bone. He toweled his face off, took a deep breath. “I went to the trailer. A man and a pregnant woman were sitting at this table, and the man was grabbing her, looked like he was about to strangle her. So I said something.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah, so the fucker attacks, fucking head-butts me, then pulls out a knife. Then the goddamn pregnant bitch runs up on me, clocks me in the face and spits on me!”
Marta nearly laughed, but held it back, covered her mouth. The image of that ugly pregnant woman punching him was comical, and she had to chew down her giggles. “So what did you do?”
“Cop showed up, this fucking fat sack of shit sheriff. Asked me if I was the pretty lady’s husband.”
Marta’s face burned red. She stretched the corners of her mouth to reveal her bottom teeth. “I might’ve told him you were my husband. He creeped me out, and I…I don’t know. I felt safer if he thought I was with my husband. I don’t know why.”
Felix stared at her for a moment, and Marta couldn’t read the look on his face. Then he wiped away the new blood that had leaked from his nose. “It doesn’t matter. The sheriff didn’t do shit, just told me to leave. That fucking guy threatened to cut me, told me he knew where all the tastiest parts were. Seriously, fucking scared the shit out of me, man.”
Marta wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened at first, then went soft in her arms. “So…I take it you didn’t get any food?”
“Are you ser-”
“Kidding, kidding.”
“Not funny. Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before. I’ve never even been in a fight.”
“And now you’ve been punched by a pregnant chick.”
“I’m not joking around right now, Marta. This place is fucked. This little shit hole of a town you got us in.”
“Relax. Hopefully we won’t have to be here much longer.”
“Right, we might be in a fucking prison next. Can’t fucking wait.”
Felix threw the towel, and before he could force his way by her, Marta grabbed him and kissed him. He didn’t kiss back at first, and even when he did, it was only a slight pucker of the lips. She pulled away from him. Marta decided to let the last statement go, even though her chest tingled with aggravation. She kept her arms wrapped around him and let him calm down for a few minutes, then kissed him again and smiled as she stared into his eyes.
“You up for a drive? I’m sorry about what happened, but we’ve only got a few more hours of sun, and we really need to-”
“Yeah, I know.” He touched his nose again, hissed.
Marta went into her bag, pulled out the small first-aid kit she had brought along. “Here,” she said as she handed him a small bandage.
The gash on his nose was ugly, but still small, some bruising starting to show under his eyes. Felix placed the bandage, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a small chuckle.
“I can’t believe the guy pulled a knife on me. He was really ready to use it too. You should have seen the look in that fucker’s eyes.”
“I remember the guy. The pregnant lady too. He had a gold tooth right?”
Felix nodded, looked past her.
“Creepy bastard. He kept staring at my tits the whole time I was ordering. His wife was getting jealous as hell, wouldn’t stop giving him the stink eye.”
“Not his wife. His sister. That’s what he told me anyway.”
She laughed. “Around here, she’s probably both.”
They shared a laugh, Marta relieved to see that Felix was loosening up a bit. She pressed herself up against him, looked up into his eyes.
“So, what do you say? Can we go get this part out of the way?”
He looked toward his bag, seemed to get lost in thought for a second. Then his eyes rolled back to her and a smirk curled his lips. “Yeah, let’s go.”
6
They drove for longer than Felix had expected. Everything looked the same-empty. He wondered if Marta actually knew where they were going or if she was just taking him for a ride, hoping to find something. The latter would have gone with the theme of the trip so far.
“There,” she said, pointing out of the windshield. “You see that?”
Running along the horizon was what appeared to be a barbed wire fence, stretching wide and disappearing off into the distance on both sides. A couple of crumbling structures sat like giant rotting beasts, and Felix drove the car toward the closest one.
“This can’t be the border,” Felix said. “I mean…it’s a fence…”
“That’s how it is in some places. That’s why I chose this area.”
They jumped out of the car and strolled toward the barbed wire. Attached to a wooden pole was a rusted white aluminum sign with faded blue lettering.
ALL PERSONS AND VEHICLES MUST ENTER THE UNITED STATES AT A DESIGNATED PORT OF ENTRY ONLY. THIS IS NOT A DESIGNATED PORT OF ENTRY. ANY PERSON OR VEHICLE ENTERING AT THIS POINT IS IN VIOLATION OF 19 USC 1459 AND/OR 19 USC 1433 AND IS SUBJECT TO A $5000.00 PENALTY. VEHICLES AND MERCHANDISE OBTAINED THEREIN ARE SUBJECT TO SEIZURE. U.S. CUSTOMS SERVICE.
Below that was the same sign but in Spanish.
“They fail to mention that people can also be seized,” Felix said.
“Or beaten or killed.” Marta shook her head, walked away from the sign, shielded her eyes, and took in their surroundings.
“What is this?” Felix said, pointing toward the rotting structure beside them. He detected a hint of decay in the air and imagined some kind of animal had crawled into the place and died. The place looked on the verge of collapsing in on itself.
“An abandoned house. I heard about these. Sometimes immigrants will take shelter in there, though in this heat, I don’t see how it could help. The air has got to be damn near unbreathable.”
Felix had a hard time believing it could be so easy to cross over. No wonder there’s so many damn illegals in the States. This is fucking pathetic. “It seems to me the government wouldn’t allow the border to be this easily crossed. I mean…a fucking sign? A fence? Really?”
“They don’t have the man power to survey the whole border. But I wouldn’t say it’s easy. The journey here? It’s a long walk through some intense desert to even make it this far. Most die out there, bodies found all the time. It’s goddamn terrible.” She used her hand as a visor and peered past the fence into the Mexican desert stretching out forever before them. “Can you imagine walking across that, finally getting here, and then getting caught and taken to prison? Jesus, it must be like hell on Earth.”
“It would be like if Dorothy made it all the way to Oz just for the wizard to rape her.” Felix smiled but Marta only stared at him, her face expressionless. “Not funny?”
“No. Are you kidding me right now?”
“Sorry.”
“And the wizard turned out to be a fake anyway.”
“Okay, it was a bad joke. Just trying to lighten things up.” Felix wiped the sweat from his face, careful not to touch his aching nose. The bleeding had stopped, but it still hurt whenever he spoke. And I was just getting over my hangover. “So, is this our spot?”
Marta put one hand on her hip, the other still shielding her eyes as she turned from left to right. “Good as any I guess. We can try it, and if nothing’s happening, we can move on.”
“With a town so close by, you’d figure Border Patrol would be keeping this place pretty secure,” Felix said. “Then again, the town seemed pretty full of Mexicans. Not to say they were illegal, but you know…doesn’t take a rocket scientist.”
“I hope so. We can do this thing and get it over with.” She turned but didn’t look at Felix, her face hard, eyes intense. “All we can do is try. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll try again.”
Felix thought back to his run-in with the crazy Mexican man and
his pregnant sister. Thought about the fat pig sheriff that obviously had some kind of relationship with them, knew them by name. Felix didn’t think he and Marta were safe in that town. Not to mention he was damn near positive they were being spied on in their motel rooms.
The quicker they got through with this the better.
But the alternative is a fucking prison. This whole situation is fucked.
His knee hit the dirt. He had brought his bag along for the drive, and just before he got out of the car, he had taken the ring out of it, slipped it into his pocket.
His throat closed up as he realized he was really going to do it. Marta looked down at him with complete confusion smothering her expression.
“Marta…I…”
He tried to say more, but the words were sticking to his throat, holding on and refusing to let go.
“Felix, what the hell are you doing?”
He could tell that she was starting to understand, and she took a step back, bottom lip bouncing and head slightly shaking.
“Marta, I love you. I said it before and I meant it then. I love you.” He pulled the box from his pocket, held it with both hands. “All of this, what we’re going to do, made me realize just how much I really do love you. And I want to spend the rest of my-”
“Don’t. Please, Felix. Don’t…” She took three more steps away from him.
Felix awkwardly crawled after her, opened the box, pulled the ring out. Her hand shook as he grabbed hold of it and slid the ring on. It was a bit small and he had to force it past her knuckle.
“I know you care about me. So why are we fighting this? Let’s just be togeth-”
“Fuck you.”
The words hit Felix like a battering ram. The heat filling his head now dwarfed that of the sun which was just starting its descent.
“W-what? Marta…”
“You heard me. I said fuck you. I just…I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now.” She stared at Felix with razor blades in her eyes.
Felix wanted to stand, to get off his knee, but he couldn’t make himself move. “How can you say that to me?”
Muerte Con Carne Page 7
