by Kate Banco
“¿Señora, cómo está Ud? Y niños, Memo y Ricardo, are you hungry?”
“Sí, a mí me gustan los tacos como los de mi mamá.” Says Memo.”
“You want the tacos you mother makes? What kind does she make hijo?” Teresa asks kindly.
“De pescado, a mi me gustan los tacos de pescado,” Memo answers.
“Okay, fish tacos coming right up. What about you Ricardo? ¿Qué quieres hijo?”
“Carnitas, a mi me gustan carnitas,.” I say
“Muy bien, y Ud. Señora? ¿Que le pongo? What should I bring you?” Teresa asks.
“Una sopita y unas tortillas de maíz, por favor. No tengo mucha hambre.” Abuelita answers. She only orders soup and some corn tortillas.
“Muy bien, ahorita vuelvo. I’ll be right back.” Teresa says, and I see a tear roll down her cheek. Papá says she was best friends with Mamá, and Paco and Teresa were at their wedding. I wonder how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other.
Papá returns to the table after spending a few minutes in the restroom washing up. I see his red eyes and I ask if he’s been crying, but he says it’s from the dust. I know it was difficult for him to tell his friends about Mamá. He sits down at the table and sighs. This isn’t easy for him, seeing his friends has brought back so many memories. Teresa brings us some drinks and I’m happy to see she has brought a red drink in plastic cups. My favorite, hibiscus flowers or agua de jamaica, it is so refreshing. I begin to drink the cool liquid and realize I’m very thirsty. Teresa watches as Memo and I both drink the cold drink down fast.
“Well, I guess you were thirsty. Let me bring you another one. In fact I’m going to bring you a pitcher of Jamaica.
Teresa returns with a small plate of fish tacos for Memo and a huge plate of carnitas for me. For Papá she places a plate of arroz con pollo.
“I know you like arroz con pollo Ricardo.” She says as she pats Papá on the shoulder. Paco follows her with a bowl of soup and homemade corn tortillas for Abuelita.
“Muchas gracias Paco y Teresa. We need a meal and I knew you would be the best food around,” Papá tries to smile.
“Don’t worry, we are happy to help with anything we can. Do you need anything else?” Paco asks.
“The name of a cheap hotel. We need to rest before we move on. I didn’t think it would take us this long to get here. We still have three more hours until we get to the border.”
“No problem, we have an apartment upstairs. The tenants just left last week, you can stay there. There is room for all to sleep. It is clean and the beds have clean sheets. I’ll show you upstairs when you finish eating,” Teresa says.
“We can pay, we would have to pay a hotel so let me pay for the night,” Papá offers.
“Ni hablar. No way. Friends take care of friends. We are happy to have you stay with us. Now, finish your dinner and relax a little,” Paco says.
“Gracias, Paco. You are such a great friend,” Papá answers.
The food is delicious and Teresa brings us more tortillas and makes sure we all have enough food. For dessert, she brings us a homemade flan.
Memo loves flan and says, “Just like what Mamá makes, right Papá?”
“Sí hijo, sí.” Papá says as he stands up and walks to the kitchen. I can tell he can’t hold it together and needs to leave the table. Teresa and Paco both hug my father and give him a chair to sit down in the kitchen. Abuelita tells us to finish up our food. She takes the remaining tortillas from the basket and wraps them in foil. She places the packet in her purse.
“For later, in case we get hungry. Homemade tortillas are the best when you are hungry.”
Teresa comes back to the table and asks if we need anything else. She tells us to follow her and she will take us upstairs. We follow her out the front door and walk down the sidewalk to a gates, she unlocks it and walks in to an alley.
We walk up an exterior staircase and once again Teresa unlocks another gate. We enter in to a small kitchen upstairs. When she turns the light on, I see there is a living room. She takes us through the living room and shows us two bedrooms. Abuelita tells Teresa she will take the first room with Memo and I will take the other room with Papá. She shows us where to turn on the water heater and gives us towels and soap. Teresa shows us there is coffee, tea and sugar in the cupboards. She reminds us to come downstairs in the morning for breakfast. Memo asks where Papá is and Abuelita tells him he needs to get cleaned up and get to bed. Papá will be here when he’s done talking to Paco.
I rest on the bed while I hear Abuelita run a bath for Memo. If they don’t hurry, I’ll fall asleep before it’s my turn. The next thing I know I hear Papá come in and take his shoes off.
“What time is it, Papá?” I ask.
“It’s one-thirty hijo, go to sleep,” He answers.
“When are you going to tell Memo about Mamá?” I ask.
“When we get to California. He doesn’t need to know yet. He’s too young. Buenas noches,” Papá says as he rolls over to face the wall.
“Buenas noches.” Does he know what is awaiting us in California? I can’t even imagine what our life will be like. It’s been difficult without Mamá and now we’ll be in another country where I won’t understand anything. If it’s anything like I’ve seen on TV, everyone will talk very fast, drive very fast and be blonde. How can everyone look the same? On TV everyone seems to be skinny, blonde and rich. That can’t be possible now that we are going. We aren’t skinny or blonde and we definitely aren’t rich. I pull the tattered picture from under my pillow and look at my mother. How will we ever make it without her? I am sixteen years old and I cry every night because I miss my Mamá and know I will never see her again.
Chapter 9
Baja, Mexico
The smell of fresh coffee and hot tortillas wakes us up. At first, I’m not sure where I am. It takes me a couple of minutes to realize we are in Uruapan in Paco and Teresa’s apartment above their taquería. Now I remember we arrived late last night and had dinner downstairs.
I hear Abuelita in the kitchen rinsing out a few items of clothing. It’s difficult for her. She lost her only daughter and agreed to come with us on this trip. She made the difficult decision, she leaves her other two sons and family behind in Lazaro Cárdenas. She said she would come with us until we settled. Abuelita will return to stay with her other grandchildren when we are in school.
Yesterday when we left Lazaro Cárdenas we got a late start because my Tío Ramon wanted to eat lunch with us before we left. Papá said the trip to Tijuana from our village should only be a little over three hours. He wants to avoid any highways and toll roads. We traveled along the back dirt roads and ask rancheros along the way for directions and water.
When we finally left town, it was after three. There were many tearful goodbyes and Papá drove by the cemetery to say goodbye to Mamá. We couldn’t stop because we didn’t want to let Memo know that she was never coming back. The car was silent as we passed by the cemetery painfully slow. I saw Abuelita reach into her big satchel to pull out a handkerchief. She turned her head to look out of the window and wiped the tears. I know she was trying to hide her own grief from us.
When we took the detour past the cemetery, Papá got confused and headed out of town in the wrong direction. He took a dirt road he thought he knew and it wasn’t until I saw a sign that read, Benito Juarez, and I read it aloud that Papá stopped the car.
“Why are we stopping Papá? Is something wrong?” I ask.
“Sí, we are going in the wrong direction. We aren’t going north. We need to go north. Hijo, you will need to help me read the signs. You know I can’t read very well.” Papá says.
“Okay, I’ll help. So what town do we need to look for?” I ask.
“First, Uruapan, then Ensenada and finally Tijuana.” He says.
Abuelita shuffles a few things in her p
urse and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Here these will help.”
I tell myself, no reading glasses are going to help my Papá read. He never finished la primaria. He had to help his Papá on the ranchito. I need a map if I’m going to help.
“Papá, do we have a map? That will help.”
“Si, hijo. Here it is. I can’t understand it. That’s why I don’t want to take the highways. I’m afraid we’ll get lost. If we stop at small towns along the way we can always ask which direction we need to take. But you look at the map to see if you can get us back in the right direction.”
“We need to turn around and go back toward Lazaro Cardenas and take a different road. Turn around. I know how to get us back on the right road,” I say proudly.
I have never left our village before. Except when we drove to a family fiesta in Rosario de Arriba and that is south of our village. The whole trip north will be new for us.
When we arrive back at the intersection where we took the wrong turn, I tell Papá to stop. I need to make sure to read all the signs. I notice a sign that reads Ensenada.
“We need to take the road north to Ensenada,” I say.
“Hijo, we need to go to Uruapan. Is that near Ensenada?” Papá asks.
“Sí, mira Papá. Look at the map. Ensenada is north of Uruapan. We will pass through Uruapan on the way to Ensenada. Then it doesn’t look like it’s far from Tijuana. Do you think we can make it tonight?” I say as I look at Papá.
“I’m not sure of anything, hijo. I don’t know how far it is. Your Tío Ramon says it will be a few hours but that is if we take the main highways. I don’t want to do that. Keep telling me which direction to go, and we’ll get there.”
Abuelita sighs and tries to hide her concern by resting her eyes and pulling Memo closer to her. She knew this trip would be a difficult one, but I don’t think she realized how difficult.
I give my father the instructions to turn right. I tell him the sun should set to the West, and we need to keep the sun on the left of us. If we go north the sun will be on the left. That seems to help Papá because he can always look to see where the sun is.
As we head north, I understand how difficult this is for my Papá. My Mamá always handled the paperwork. If we needed to read instructions she was the one who did it. She helped my father navigate his daily routine if it included reading. My Mamá finished her primaria and almost her secundaria but left school to marry Papá. She often talked about finishing her school to get her certificate but it never happened. She would have organized this trip and told us all how far each town was and where we would stop for gasoline and food. But she won’t be on this trip or any other trips any more. My Papá depends on me to get us to Tijuana. After that I’m not sure where we will end up.
That was yesterday, now I decide it’s time to get up and start the second day of our trip. I notice Papá is awake but not getting up. I know these days are hard for him and he tries very hard not to be sad when Memo is nearby.
“Papá, we should get up and start our day. If we get an early start, it will be easier on Abuelita and Memo. They seem to get very tired in the afternoon when it’s hot.”
“Sí, hijo. I’ll get up in a few minutes. Go ahead with your Abuelita and Memo, Teresa told us to go down for breakfast. She will be waiting for you downstairs. Get cleaned up and get dressed. Today we will cross the border. We need to get a good breakfast so we can start our new lives in the United States.”
I leave him to his thoughts and get dressed. Abuelita has left my clean clothes on a chair in the kitchen. She has already washed out Memo’s clothes from yesterday and hung them on the railing outside the door.
Abuelita tries to smile when I greet her in the kitchen. I can tell she is exhausted and sad. Memo is sitting at the table dressed and ready to start his day.
“Papa says Teresa invited us to breakfast downstairs. He’ll be down in a few minutes. He wants a few more minutes of sleep,” I lie.
“¡Tengo hambre!” Memo shouts. “Let’s go.”
All three of us walk down the stairs and leave the quiet apartment. The aroma of fresh tortillas and coffee has already sifted upstairs. My stomach starts to rumble. I’m hungry, too. Last night’s dinner was so good, but I can eat almost anything they give me this morning,”
As we enter the taqueria, I see Teresa has already set the table for us with jugo de piña and sweet bread. I love pineapple juice almost as much as I enjoy pan dulce. It’s a nice start to a breakfast I hope will include huevos, frijoles y tortillas.
Teresa smiles and points to the table she has set up for us. “How did you sleep?” She asks.
“Muy bien, gracias,” My abuelita answers.
“Now you can eat a big breakfast before you head north. Paco is ready to cook whatever you like.”
“¿Tortitas con nata? Memo asks.
“Of course, we can do pancakes with whipped cream. Do you want anything else, Memo?” Teresa asks.
“Unas tortillas calientes, por favor. las tortillas de Mamá,” Memo answers. Teresa’s face drops and she looks away. The shock of learning of her friend’s death is still fresh and the grief hasn’t set in yet.
Abuelita speaks up and says, “Un huevo revuelto con las tortillas primero. If you still are hungry after that you can ask Paco to make you a tortita.”
“Ricardo? What would you like?” Teresa asks.
“Huevos, frijoles, queso y arroz por favor. Con tortillas.”
“How about if we make that into a burrito? Would you like that?”
“Yes, please!” I answer.
“Go ahead have some juice and pan dulce. I’ll bring out some coffee.”
“Señora, what would you like?”
“Un café y unas tortillas con un huevo revuelto por favor,” Abuelita says.
“Okay, I’ll bring the tortillas and a scrambled egg. I’ll be right back.”
Abuelita fusses with the salsas and botellas de Tapatio on the table and her face is drawn and tired. This trip is the hardest on her. I need to remember to tell Papá that Abuelita needs to take some rest breaks more often. We don’t want her getting sick, we need her.
Memo finishes his juice and picks a red-colored concha from the plate of pan dulce. Abuelita takes the bread and cuts it in half.
“Toma hijo, here’s half. You need to eat breakfast first, and let’s get a glass of milk.”
“Okay Abuelita, but I’m hungry. I want to eat everything on this table,” Memo shouts.
“Cuidado let’s lower your voice. We are in a restaurant,” Abuelita warns.
I realize Memo and Abuelita are suffering. Yesterday was a long day for all, but it’s obvious it has taken a toll on both of them. I hope we get to Tijuana today and can stop in California tonight. I want to get settled. I don’t even know if Papá knows where we are going. Once we cross the border, I need to help take care of everyone. I will help us navigate the trip. I’m only sixteen, yet it’s like I became an adult the minute we left Lazaro Cardenas.
Chapter 10
Baja Mexico
We are almost finished with breakfast when Papá enters the restaurant. He has on his best shirt. His hair is wet and slicked back. He looks like he is expecting our entrance to the United States to be like going to church. You dress up, look your best and try to impress everyone. We don’t want to look like we are poor or uneducated, and we need to be on our best behavior today.
Abuelita excuses herself to go back upstairs to pick up the few things she left drying on the railing. I know she wants some quiet time, she will be with us non-stop until we have a permanent home. She lived by herself for years since Abuelo died. We invited her to come live with us, but she always said she was content to live alone and we were always welcome to visit. When Mamá got sick, she started spending more nights with us until she finally moved to our house. Mamá needed consta
nt care and Abuelita took care of her from morning to night.
Papá says we need to get going, but I suggest we give Abuelita some time. A look of confusion crosses his face, but he doesn’t ask why, “Whatever you think, hijo. You are our guide on this trip. I hate to put that responsibility on you but I need your help. You already know that.”
“Why don’t we ask Paco which road to take north to Ensenada. I’m sure he knows. He can also tell us how long we should expect it to take to get to Tijuana.”
“Good idea, hijo. Why don’t you get a piece of paper and have him write down what roads to take and any notes he wants to give us. Let’s ask if he can suggest where we can stop to give Memo and Abuelita a rest from riding in the car.”
“Okay, I’ll go talk to Paco,” I say as I get up to go to the kitchen.
“Papá, when is Mamá coming back from her trip?” Memo says in a loud voice.
I notice Paco and Teresa stop what they are doing and look at each other with questioning looks. Paco shakes his head and I see him take a deep breath and blow it out. He looks out at my father. The necessity of telling a seven-year old his mother is never coming back seems like a daunting task. The empathy for my family is visible on his face.
“Todavía no, hijo,” my father tells him. “Not yet, son.”
Teresa comes out and hands my father a paper bag with drinks and some fruit for our trip. Inside the bag, she has placed a bag of candy for Memo.
“Take it out later when he gets restless, it may help distract him.”
“Gracias, Teresa. You and Paco are so kind to us. Let me pay for our stay and food,” he says as he pulls his wallet from his pocket. The chain from his belt hoop to his wallet dangles in mid-air as he opens the tattered wallet. It was gift from Mamá a few years ago. I don’t think he will ever get a new wallet.
“Don’t worry, Ricardo. We won’t take your money, you will need that for the trip. Keep your money. It’s the least we can do. I wish we could do more,” she says as she gives Papá a hug.
