by Lexie Ray
There were far too many people who accepted that, and maybe that was the real problem in this country.
My decimated family was hard to get used to. Antonio came over more to have dinner with us, to provide my uncle with some sense that the table wasn’t as empty as he felt it to be. They talked about everything under the sun, everything except my aunt and cousin and how their journey might be going. They’d promised to contact us whenever they could, but we had yet to hear from them. My uncle never talked about it, and I was hesitant to so much as mention one of their names.
The weeks passed, and even though we still hadn’t heard any news from my aunt and cousin, their absence seemed easier to bear. There was something to be said for the merciful passage of time — even one good night’s worth of sleep helped to ease grief.
A knock on the door one Saturday afternoon, however, changed all that.
I answered it, assuming it was Antonio, and saw instead my bedraggled, skinnier cousin trembling on the stoop, her clothes torn and dirty and her eyes large.
“Prima!” I exclaimed, folding her quickly into my arms, taking stunned notes on just how emaciated she was. “What are you doing back here? Where’s your mother? What happened?”
All my cousin could do was shake, whatever horrors or experiences she had on her journey locked deep inside of her.
Hearing my shout, my uncle rushed to the door, nearly pushing us both over in his haste to see his daughter, to glean the reasons for her return, to inquire about the gaping absence of his wife.
My cousin didn’t cry, didn’t speak even at our repeated questions. It was just like the silence she’d practiced after Maribel had been attacked, and once we realized that, my uncle and I stopped asking questions. I wasn’t sure either of us really wanted to know the details of what had happened. We hadn’t heard from my aunt, and my cousin had simply turned up on the doorstep, failure permeating every breath, her body wasted with a journey that had so obviously gone wrong in ways we couldn’t name.
I bathed her, dressed her in some clothing that she hadn’t taken, and put her to bed. She slept for nearly three days without so much as stirring beneath the covers. My uncle watched over her constantly, refusing all but the most meager of sustenance to continue his vigil.
His plan to save his family had failed spectacularly, all the money he’d spent to secure their safety squandered, and his wife was missing. I tried to be supportive of my uncle, tried to anticipate his needs even as neither of us knew what they might be. We did the only things we thought we could do, getting my cousin to eat, making sure she took showers, getting her back to school as soon as she put a little bit of weight back on her slight frame.
But the mystery of my aunt’s fate weighed on all three of us so heavily. What had happened to her? Was she in trouble somewhere? Injured? Dead?
The worst thought of all was that she’d made it to America and decided that three of us, still mired here in Honduras, were too much for her to bear. She’d cut off all her contact with us and started completely over again once she’d reached the land of the free, ready to leave Honduras and her family behind in some very distant past.
We just couldn’t ask my cousin about her, too afraid that reliving the truth would harm the girl irreparably.
Antonio was nothing but a gentleman throughout these trying times, trying to draw my cousin out of her shell, consistently attending meals at my house if only to fill my aunt’s empty chair at the table, supporting my uncle through distracting conversation, and just being there for me, silent and holding me when my wonders and worries threatened to consume me.
Antonio was the glue that was trying to hold this shattered family together.
Life in Honduras, especially living in the neighborhood we were forced to live in, grew to mean that we dealt with one crisis after another. My father’s murder had been the first in my young life, and Maribel had been the second. My aunt and cousin’s fleeing the country, and my aunt’s subsequent disappearance, were the third and fourth, and the fifth came in the most unexpected of places.
Antonio and I were walking home from school one day — my cousin hadn’t attended, not feeling strong enough to do so — when a boy we’d known since childhood rounded a corner and nearly ran right into us.
“Hey, Raul,” Antonio greeted him warmly. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Watch it, pendejo,” Raul warned, not bothering to look at Antonio’s face. “I’ll fuck you up.”
“Whoa,” Antonio protested. “It’s me, man. Antonio. It’s us, Antonio and Sol. Don’t you recognize us?”
We hadn’t seen Raul in several years, not since he’d transferred to another school outside of the neighborhood. His parents, recognizing the sway of the gangs here, had moved their family elsewhere in the country, resigning themselves to the fact that living paycheck to paycheck, scraping the bottom of the barrel each month to make rent and not having enough money to keep their bellies from gnawing at themselves, was worth escaping the violence that persisted here.
Raul looked at Antonio sharply, studying his face, seeming to weigh his words before breaking out into a grin.
“Sure, man,” he said. “Antonio and Sol, together forever. How couldn’t I have recognized you?”
He enveloped Antonio in a big bear hug, patting his back heartily, the slaps sounding like they hurt. If they bothered my boyfriend, he did a good job of not showing it, laughing and returning the affectionate embrace.
“Come here, you,” Raul said, releasing Antonio and holding his arms out to me. “You look so different, Sol. I hope it doesn’t offend either of you if I say you’re super hot.”
I hesitated only a moment before hugging Raul tentatively, wincing a little as I hoped he wouldn’t pound my back like he had Antonio’s.
“No offense taken,” Antonio said happily, sounding proud. “You’re just observing the truth.”
My embrace with Raul was very different from his hug with Antonio, indeed. He didn’t pound my back; he groped it, his hands roaming from my shoulder blades, down my spine, and finally settling squarely on my ass, giving it a squeeze as if he were judging its ripeness.
“Jeez, Raul,” I yelped, backing quickly out of his embrace and to the safety of Antonio’s side. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Just wanted to sample the goods for myself, baby,” he said, leering at me. “It’s been so long.”
“It has been a long time,” Antonio said, his voice a little tight. “What’ve you been up to?” My boyfriend’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me to him a little possessively. I wondered why he was being so demonstrative. If this was going to turn into a pissing match between Antonio and Raul, I didn’t want any part of it. They could solve their boy problems without me as a witness.
“Well, my family moved, you know,” Raul said, not taking his eyes off of me. The guy was starting to make me really uncomfortable, ass squeeze included. “Money got really hard to come by, so I got a job instead of going to school.”
“I’m sorry that was hard for you,” Antonio said diplomatically. “Are you thinking of going back to school?”
“Hell, no, man, and it wasn’t hard, either,” Raul said, laughing. “Fuck school. It’s pointless, a waste of time. My job is awesome, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“You’re lucky,” Antonio said. “Most people hate their jobs. What is it that you do that you enjoy so much?”
“I’m an enforcer for MS-13,” Raul said proudly, puffing out his chest as he name-dropped one of the most notorious and violent gangs in all of Honduras.
I’d stopped smiling at the guy as soon as he’d felt me up, and now Antonio’s smile froze on his face. I couldn’t help to feel — even in the middle of this worrisome revelation — sorry for Raul’s parents. They’d given up everything to try to get him away from the gangs, and he’d seemingly cannonballed right into them again.
“That’s really interesting,” Antonio said, stuttering a bit over the sta
tement. “Well, hope to see you around, man. We’ve got to go, now, but maybe we can finish catching up another time.”
“Aw, I know what this is,” Raul said, laughing. “You’re afraid of the big bad gangs, aren’t you?”
“That’s not it,” Antonio said quickly. “We just have to go to dinner with family. I’m really interested in chatting some more, though. Let me know when a good time would be for you, if you’re going to be in town for a while, and we’ll make it happen.”
“The thing is, you should be afraid of the gangs,” Raul continued, as if he hadn’t heard Antonio. “They are as bad as everyone says. Worse, even. And when you piss one member off, all the rest will come for you.”
Neither of us knew what to say to that. Were we pissing Raul off right now? Was this a threat of some kind of retribution from the gang? How could we get out of here without getting hurt?
“It seems like MS-13 is pretty well connected,” Antonio said, his voice neutral and even.
“Damn straight,” Raul said, proud again that he’d managed to latch on to the teat of such violence and fear. “And if you’re a part of it, you can take whatever you want, whatever looks good to you.” His eyes sank down to my chest, then back up into my face. I caught his meaning without him having to be any more obvious, and pressed myself discreetly against Antonio.
“Is that right?” Antonio asked, feigning polite interest. “Well, like I said, man, we really need to be going. See you around?”
“Sure, man, sure,” Raul said, grinning and nodding, returning his gaze to Antonio. I thought we were going to get out of their scotch free, but I was wrong. Right as we were about to turn and walk away, take another street just to get out of Raul’s sight, he spoke again.
“Better keep track of your pretty girlfriend, Antonio,” Raul said, winking at me. “I think she’d look better on my arm.”
“Very funny, Raul,” Antonio said casually, even as his arm tightened around my waist, making it even harder to breathe.
“I don’t think you understand me,” Raul said. “I want her. She’s going to be mine, aren’t you, Sol?”
“In your dreams, maybe,” I shot back, scared but indignant. We’d known Raul since we were little. Had he really changed so thoroughly in such a short time? It seemed hard to believe, like I could maybe snap him out of it if I tried hard enough.
“I keep a stable of girls just like you,” Raul crooned to me, seeming to not hear my words, and seeming to consider this a so-called “stable” a good thing. “They’re all beautiful, they’re all mine, and when I get tired of them, I send them on so other guys can enjoy them.” He smiled, and I shuddered involuntarily. “I can be very charitable sometimes. But if I really liked them, they’ll never leave me. I shoot them in the head, and their soul is mine.”
I resisted the urge to glance at Antonio, unwilling to take my eyes away from the insane man in front of us. I hadn’t thought Raul was going to be a threat, at first. Now I was starting to doubt my judgment. Had he always been crazy and we’d just never realized it?
“I try to be charitable. I really do,” Raul continued. “But sometimes, I just hate sharing. I hate sharing Sol with you, Antonio. She’s mine, don’t you understand?”
“Sure, man, I understand,” Antonio said, surprising me so much I twisted in his arms to examine his face. What was he doing? “We’ll talk about this. I just want to get her to her house so she doesn’t think she can get away from you, okay? She can be pretty sneaky.”
Raul blinked a couple of times, looking like he expected a little more resistance from Antonio.
“Okay, I get it, I get it,” he said, fidgeting a little bit. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Sol, right? You can’t resist me.”
I opened my mouth to tell him the exact opposite, but Antonio pinched me sharply on the arm, making me yelp. I glared at him, but his face was stone, pretty much unreadable. His eyes, though, made my heart stop. Antonio was scared — terrified, even. A muscle in his jawline twitched and I jumped with it.
“Tell Raul you’ll see him tomorrow,” Antonio said tightly. “Go on.”
I trembled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” Raul said, grinning. “Perfect, nena. Tomorrow. I look forward to it so much. I’m never going to be able to share you. You’ll be with me forever.”
Antonio turned me around and marched me stiffly home — the long way.
“Pack a backpack of your belongings,” he muttered at me, glancing at the faces of everyone we passed, frequently checking over his shoulder. “Go and do it the moment we get to your house. I’ll talk to your uncle.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as he jerked me along. “What are we doing? You’re hurting me, Antonio.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “We have to hurry. I didn’t think Raul would let us go, but he was surprised enough to do so. I think once the surprise wears off, he’ll realize his mistake and come after us. That’s why we need to move you to a safe place.”
It hit me like a load of bricks — I was in danger. I was in danger, my family was in danger, Antonio was in danger.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“It’s going to be okay,” Antonio told me, hustling me around the corner. We’d finally reached the block my uncle’s house was located in. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
“They’ll look for me everywhere,” I said, my teeth chattering even though it wasn’t cold. “They’ll never stop searching until they find me. There isn’t a place in this country I can hide.”
“That’s why I’m getting you out of here,” he said, and pushed me through the door to my uncle’s house.
“Well, hello,” my uncle said, startled a bit at our sudden entrance.
I tried to say something, but Antonio shoved me toward my bedroom.
“Go,” he urged. “I’ll talk to your uncle. Pack the backpack. Only the essentials. All the money you have.”
I would’ve tried to strain to hear what Antonio was telling my uncle in the kitchen, but panic brought a dull roar to my ears. Raul wanted me for himself. I was going to become like Maribel, dead in the eyes, accepting her fate. Raul and his gang would kill anyone who stood in the way of what he wanted, and what he wanted was me. I would live out a pathetic and painful existence, and then he would put me out of my misery. Did Raul really think he could retain my soul if his was the hand that ended my life? It frightened me to think that he did, made me even believe it could be true.
I shoveled some clothing into a bag, a photo of my father I always kept near me, a pathetically small collection of bills and coins I kept in a small shoebox. It was so hard to save money, especially since I’d never had a purpose for it before. Even if my aunt and cousin had fled the country, necessitating the amassing of money, I’d never thought I’d need that kind of cash.
A thought struck me. Where, exactly, was Antonio going to take me? He hadn’t seemed as daunted as me by the idea that there wasn’t a single place in this country I could hide. Could he be planning on taking me out of Honduras? My cousin had the same dead eyes as Maribel, the extinguishing of hope, ever since she got back. What future did I have to look forward to? Being one of Raul’s girls? Failing at getting out of the country? Death?
“Sol!” Antonio called. “Are you ready?”
What did you pack in a bag you were taking to flee your existence? I just didn’t know anymore. I closed the zipper, tightened the drawstrings, and swung it on my back.
“Ready,” I said, even though it was a lie. Could anyone ever be ready for one of these things?
I rejoined Antonio and my uncle in the kitchen, my eyes roving over familiar sights that I was only just beginning to realize I might never see again — the couch and the rocking chair in the sitting room, the tired old refrigerator in the kitchen that wheezed and clicked at all hours, and my uncle.
His face was tight with worry and I knew he was thinking of his wife and daughter —
my aunt and cousin — and their own journey. They’d been faced with nearly the same threat as me, and they hadn’t been successful at escaping it. Each day that passed that we heard no word from my aunt, my cousin seemed to turn a little more translucent, fading away from reality piece by piece. We all feared the worst, even if we couldn’t talk about it out loud.
“Antonio will take care of you,” my uncle said with a conviction that surprised me. “He is a good man. Do as he says, and he’ll keep you safe.”
I looked at Antonio. We loved each other, but it was startling to hear my uncle call him a man. Up until now, what Antonio and I had shared had been referred to as simple puppy love — two kids infatuated with each other. But as I looked at him, the resolute wrinkle marring his smooth brow, I realized that he was a man. Maybe he’d even become one today, making these hard decisions for me to keep me safe.
“Here,” my uncle said, fumbling in a cabinet on top of the refrigerator before retrieving a ceramic jar. “You will take this.”
He opened the container to reveal a roll of money he’d probably been squirreling away ever since my cousin had turned up again on our doorstep, planning to send her away yet again to get her out of this hellhole.
“Tio, I can’t,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. “This is for her. This isn’t for me. You keep saving for her and let me figure my own life out.”
“I have considered you a daughter the moment we took you in,” he said, holding me at arm’s length before kissing me carefully on each cheek. “You have already borne witness to such horror. I can’t see you go through anymore. You are going to get out, and you are going to need this money to do so.”
I hugged him tightly, tears streaming down my face.
“We need to go,” Antonio said hoarsely, urgently.
“But now?” I cried, foundering in the newness of this reality. “How? We need to make contacts, connections.”
