Both Sides of the Border, page 13
Not wanting to start any conflict, Steven asked, “Do you want to shop now for your family? We have a couple of hours until we need to head for the boat.”
“Sure.”
Eva found Day of the Dead souvenirs for her mother and sisters. She would enjoy explaining the traditions to them when she went back to visit in Virginia. She didn’t know if her description of the island would do it justice. It was a unique little corner of Mexico. After they finished shopping, they ambled down the walkway toward the boat and watched the butterfly net fishermen for several minutes.
“Ready to head for the boat?” Steven asked. “It is four o’clock.”
“Yes. This has been an experience to remember.”
Steven nodded.
Eva and Steven rode the boat back to the dock and walked to the restaurant where the other tourists from the bus were gathered. The whole group looked fatigued.
“Hello, all,” Adrián said. “You’re all accounted for. Let’s go inside and take our time for a relaxing meal. The owner of the restaurant has arranged for a local group to entertain us while we eat. They’ll be performing music and dancing traditional folk dances from this region. We have two hours before we take off. Remember, we’ll be on the bus overnight. Enjoy this last couple of hours before that long trek begins.”
Adrián took his seat at a table with three tourists from the bus, and the show began. The dancers, wearing traditional white dresses with red and green trimmed ruffles, performed a spectacular dance that combined dance with theater. The mariachi played as the dancers performed.
Eva thoroughly enjoyed her dinner and the entertainment. She liked the company even more. She looked at his handsome face. She had good feelings about Steven and hoped they might continue to see each other after the trip. After all, they lived only a bridge apart.
Chapter Thirteen
DOLORES DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO do. Either the mother of the infant didn’t realize the infant was dead, or she knew it and didn’t want to believe it. Dolores sat down a short distance away from the mother. Emilio and Ernesto caught up to Dolores.
“What’s wrong with her?” Ernesto whispered.
“She said her baby girl is sick,” Dolores answered. “But I think she’s dead,” she whispered very quietly.
“What should we do? Can we help her?” Ernesto whispered back.
Dolores said, “Let’s go over there, so she won’t hear us.”
They moved a short distance away, and Ernesto asked, “Can we do anything?”
Emilio asked, “Yes, how can we help?”
“We can’t leave her here. She needs help,” Dolores said.
“But there isn’t much we can do,” Emilio argued. “And we might miss the train.”
“Emilio,” Dolores whispered. “Look at her,” she urged as she glanced toward the woman.
Sitting in the weeds, the woman had her head down, staring at the dirt. She was rocking her dead baby.
“If we don’t help her, someone will hurt her, and she won’t be able to defend herself,” Dolores argued.
“What do you want to do?” Ernesto asked.
“You two stay right here and let me talk to her. If I can help her to know her baby is in Heaven, we can bury the baby and then help her to get on the train if she wants to go.”
The brothers nodded and stayed in their position.
“Miss, hello,” Dolores said softly as she slowly approached the woman.
The mother kept rocking the limp baby and did not respond.
Dolores inched closer to her. “Miss,” she said. “Miss.”
Dolores moved closer still and gently put her hand on the mother’s shoulder. The mother didn’t answer, but she allowed Dolores to touch her. Dolores paused for a moment and then softly eased her arm around the mother’s shoulder.
“It is okay. Your sweet, sweet baby. It’s okay,” Dolores said.
Dolores moved to hug the woman. The mother put her head on Dolores’ shoulder and cried harder and harder.
“Your sweet baby is with the angels. The angels have her now. She’s not sick now. The angels have her.”
The mother, Dolores, and the dead baby sat for a long time, the three huddled up in a long hug. The mother sobbed even more. The train came and went.
As the sky darkened, Dolores and the mother sat, motionless. The mother, still crying, eventually pulled away from Dolores. She handed the dead baby to Dolores, who placed the baby gently on the ground.
“Ernesto, Emilio, can you help me please?”
“Yes,” they said simultaneously.
“We must dig a small place for the baby,” Dolores instructed.
Dolores, Emilio, and Ernesto used their hands to dig out a shallow, tiny grave. As they struggled with their bare hands, they could hear the music playing in the zocalo in the old part of Veracruz. They heard laughter, and the music played louder through the night. With hurting fingers, they dug a shallow grave.
“Okay,” Dolores said to her brothers, “gather some stones. Stay out of sight from anyone else waiting for the train. And don’t talk.”
Dolores looked at the mother. She was sitting as if in a trance. The mother didn’t look at Dolores but only stared at her baby lying on the hot, dry ground. Dolores fought the urge to cry. Her heart ached for the pain the mother must be feeling.
Ernesto and Emilio brought back several stones and smaller rocks. They went back into the field to look for more rocks.
Dolores placed her hand on the mother’s shoulder again and said, “We’ll put your baby here. And then we’ll pray.”
The mother did not talk. She didn’t agree or disagree.
“Is that okay?” Dolores asked.
The mother looked in Dolores’ eyes and gave a faint nod.
“You can help me,” she told the mother.
Gently, Dolores and the mother lifted the baby and placed her inside the shallow grave. Emilio and Ernesto knelt behind their sister. Dolores took the mother’s hands, and while both women were on their knees, Dolores prayed, “Father, we place this baby in the hands of Your angels. Help her journey to You. Please watch over the baby’s mother. We place our lives in Your hands.”
Both women made the sign of the cross on their chests. Dolores hugged the mother, who wept uncontrollably. She helped the mother move a little distance from the grave. Dolores, Ernesto, and Emilio covered the tiny baby with stones. Ernesto found two small branches and some twine and vines from the bushes. He fashioned a cross and nestled it between the rocks over the grave. He said a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.
No one said anything. They sat in the blackness of the vacant field, listening to the music in the distance. They each found a spot near the grave and laid down. The mother laid alongside the grave. Daylight would come before they were ready.
* * *
The birds woke Dolores before dawn. She nudged Ernesto and Emilio. She looked over to wake the mother, but she wasn’t there. The mother was nowhere in sight. Dolores stood up and scanned the railyard. No woman with a pink and red flowered blouse. She looked out in the other direction.
“Is she gone?” Ernesto asked as he sat up rubbing his eyes.
“Yes, and I’m worried about her. I hope she’s okay.”
Emilio was stretching and yawning. “I think I slept about two minutes.” He looked over to the grave site.
“Where’d she go?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She left when we were all sleeping. I know she’s upset—”
Emilio interrupted. “Maybe she went to the railyard and is sleeping there.”
“Maybe,” Dolores said.
“Think we might find some food?” Ernesto asked.
“Let’s walk over there.” Dolores pointed to the end of the field. “Maybe there will be some bananas. I saw plenty of banana trees from the train yesterday.”
The three walked over to the end of the field and found several kinds of trees, but no banana trees. They looked under the trees—nothing there. They walked around the outskirts of the field, near the street.
A tiny, elderly woman walked by with a cart.
“Young man,” she said loudly to Emilio.
Fearing he was in trouble, he said, “I’m sorry, I was just looking for something to eat.”
“Come here.” She motioned for him to join her.
Emilio walked over to the woman. She opened up a metal container in the cart.
“I sell these to the tourists walking in the zocalo. They pay too much money for them,” she said with a laugh. “Please, take one.”
Emilio’s eyes lit up. She handed him a fresh sweet tamal wrapped in a banana leaf and tied with a strand from a leaf.
“For your breakfast,” she said.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. We haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he said to her.
“Here, take another one. You can share.”
Emilio thanked her again and jogged over to his sister.
“Dolores, Ernesto, look.”
“God is good,” Dolores said.
They unwrapped the tamales and ate bites of each one, breaking off the pieces with their fingers.
“I am not sure I have ever had such a good sweet tamal,” Dolores said. “How long since we had one with raisins? And cream? Delicious.”
Their breakfast was consumed within minutes.
“Let’s walk back toward the train tracks. I’m not sure when the train will come today,” Dolores told her brothers. “We must be ready.”
Dolores led her brothers as they walked back toward the train tracks and closer to the railyard. People were gathering again today. Other travelers remained near the railyard, but not in plain sight, wanting to remain undetected by the Mexican authorities.
Dolores scanned the railyard, looking for the mother who disappeared in the night. What could have happened to her? Where did she go?
“Let me know if either of you spot the mother. I’m afraid for her,” Dolores said.
They walked around the railyard, scanning for Mexican authorities and for the mother of the dead baby. Seeing neither, they found a place in the shade against the wall of an old building. The mosquitoes were still thick, and the air was as heavy as Dolores’ heart.
Dolores thought about her family back home. She missed them so much. She wished she could tell her mother and grandmother about the baby they buried. She wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her, comforting her. She wished she could go to her church and talk to her priest about what had happened and ask if she could have done more for the mother.
“When do you think a train will come?” Emilio asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait here with the mosquitoes until the train arrives.” Dolores swatted at a swarm.
Hours passed and finally Emilio said, “That tamal seems like a long time ago.”
Dolores agreed. “Yes, but remember how delicious it was?”
“And now,” Ernesto said, “I am hungry for Abuela’s pork tamales.”
“Remember how tasty those are?” Emilio said. “Just the right amount of spiciness!”
“I think if we keep talking about food, we’ll be hungrier,” Dolores added.
Emilio and Ernesto became sleepy sitting for such a long time. By late afternoon, they were both napping. Dolores kept watch so that no harm would come to them. A disturbance at the far side of the railyard got her attention.
Ernesto awoke. “Look,” he said. “An officer.”
“Yes. Watch and see what happens.”
A man, waiting for the train, was arguing with the officer. The officer’s voice got louder and louder.
“Show me your papers.”
“I have no papers. Please. I’m poor. I’m from Honduras and trying to go to the United States. Please let me leave when the train comes.”
“Give me your money, and I will let you go.”
When the officer could not shake any money from the man, he said, “You’re not going to the United States. You’re coming with me. You’re going back to Honduras.”
The man reluctantly stood still. The officer took his arm and forced him to leave the train yard.
“We must be careful. The officer will be back,” Dolores told Ernesto and Emilio.
They remained in their shady spot by the wall of the old building. The Mexican police officer returned and had another officer, a narcotics federal officer, with him. Dolores, Emilio, and Ernesto watched as he approached two men in gray, hooded jackets. The two men, holding plastic bags, stood at the end of the railyard trying to avoid eye contact with the officials.
“You two . . . ” The narcotics officer pointed. “With me.”
The two men walked to the officer. He looked in their bags, then put them on the ground and put a band around their wrists. The two officers took them away.
By nightfall, the three were losing hope that the train would arrive. Dolores looked at the sky. The moon was glowing as brightly as it had the night before. She could not think about last night. She put the horrible memories away for now.
At last, they heard the train’s engine.
“Here it comes,” Emilio said.
“You ready to get on?” Dolores asked.
“I know how to get on the train easily now,” Emilio said.
“I don’t think the ride will be too long.” Then, trying to cheer up her brothers, Dolores said, “Maybe we can find a shelter again at our next stop.”
The train whined as it advanced toward the group. It picked up speed as Ernesto got on the ladder and helped Dolores pull up. Emilio followed Dolores. They scanned the train car they were riding on. No one looked like trouble. Everyone on board appeared to be travelers going to the United States. But it was dark, which made it difficult to determine for certain.
Dolores looked ahead. She couldn’t see much, but she knew they were moving toward the mountains. The track would take them through this part of Mexico and eventually to the frontier of flat plains, cacti, and mesquite trees. But for now, the train progressed through coastal southern Mexico.
Not far from the railyard, the train increased speed. Dolores looked behind her to see the outskirts of the city of Veracruz. She looked ahead and thought she spotted something out of place near the tracks.
“Dolores,” Ernesto said. “Look, there is something up ahead.”
Dolores stared hard and squinted her eyes in the dark to focus. The light of the train alerted her to something. “Is that—”
“It is her,” Ernesto said. “The mother we helped last night.”
Dolores made out the pink and red blouse. “She’s too close to the tracks!” she yelled in panic.
The mother walked without being aware of her surroundings. She was in a trance of disbelief from the death of her baby.
The train did not slow down.
“You’re too close!” Dolores yelled again.
A barely audible thump followed by a scream over the loud shrieking of the train told Dolores that it was too late. The train hit the woman.
“No!” Dolores screamed.
“No!” Emilio yelled.
Ernesto was in shock.
It couldn’t have happened, thought Dolores. She looked back behind her. The woman was lying face down on the side of the tracks. Dolores wept.
“It’s okay,” Ernesto said to Dolores, trying to comfort her. “We did what we could,” he added.
Dolores could not stop crying. Emilio and Ernesto attempted to comfort their sister. But Dolores wondered if there was something different that she could’ve done. What would her mother tell her now? How would her mother handle this? I’m too young to know what to do, she thought. How I miss Mamá.
“Dolores,” Ernesto said, “she’s with God and her baby now.”
“Yes.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“Her baby is happy now, and so is she. Remember last night, you prayed that we would be in God’s hands?” Ernesto asked.
“Yes,” she replied, still sniffling.
“God knew the mother could not go on without her baby,” Ernesto said.
Ernesto, so young and so wise, Dolores thought.
Emilio scooted over to his older sister and put his arm around her. “We’re in God’s hands. You know we have been since we left Honduras. You’ve told us many times on this trip that God watches us. He watched the mother, too.”
Dolores held both of her brothers’ hands and calmed herself down. She thought back to the day they left Honduras and how they’d argued about her staying home. Now, she was glad to be so close to her brothers. She said a prayer to thank God for the love she had for them and the love they had for her.
The loud noise of the train was irritating to Dolores at this moment. She wanted quietness and rest.
Emilio looked up at the sky. “Do you think Mamá, Papá, and Abuela are looking at the sky tonight?”
Dolores knew that her family often sat in their yard and looked at the heavens and prayed together.
“Yes,” she said. “I think they’re probably doing just that.”
“Then we’re all together. We’re all looking at the sky tonight and praying, just like at home,” Emilio said.
Ernesto asked, “Do you suppose they can hear Mr. Martinez’s loud music and awful singing down the road?”
They all laughed. Mr. Martinez sometimes had too much guaro, his sugar cane liquor, and played his guitar and sang too loud. The other problem was that Mr. Martinez couldn’t really sing. He was always off-key.
“Maybe they can hear him.” Dolores smiled.
Then Emilio said, “Shhhh . . . I think I can hear him all the way up here! Oh! He is hurting my ears!”
“Now, that’s funny, Emilio!” Dolores said and smiled again.
Dolores, Ernesto, and Emilio did not talk anymore. Dolores looked into the sky and wondered about the risks that tomorrow might bring.
Chapter Fourteen
THE EVENING MEAL AND MARIACHI music in the restaurant were over. Eva and Steven entered the bus and took their seats. They sat together near the back.
