Dalila
Everything is stressing me out and the truth of my father’s involvement in illegal activity and the cartels is too real. Abuela Carmela is rubbing my back, telling me that everything will be okay.
But it won’t.
She takes my hand in hers and tells me that she comes from a time when people worked hard in order to put food on the table, not to buy personal possessions. But it’s not all about that. She mentioned that the people she saw Papá working for and associating with were against everything she believed in. Papá told her he was doing what he had to do and she should mind her own business. Abuela Carmela hasn’t been back to La Joya de Sandoval since.
Ashamed for even putting my thoughts into words, I ask if she thinks Papá is connected to the new cartel Los Reyes del Norte.
“Ojalá supiera,” she says with sadness clouding her sweet face.
She doesn’t know.
But I can tell she suspects he’s getting more deeply involved.
“Aveces es mejor ser ignorante, mija.”
Sometimes it might be good to be ignorant, but I don’t want to look away and pretend bad things aren’t happening around me.
“Can we talk?”
I turn to see Ryan standing behind me and I quickly wipe away the tears falling down my face. “Sure.”
Abuela Carmela walks back into the house, telling me to lean on Ryan if I need to. She leaves us alone to talk even though I don’t feel like saying anything.
Ryan holds his hand out. I furrow my brow as I stare at it. “What do you want?”
“Take my hand,” he says. When I do, I feel the warmth and strength in his touch as he helps me up. “Walk with me.”
I wipe my tears with my free hand, hating that I feel so alone. “You should probably stay away from me, Ryan. Very far away from me.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen, Dalila. Just walk with me.”
With my hand in his, he leads me away from Abuela Carmela’s house. We walk for a few minutes, weaving our way through the hilly, grassy land with vines sticking up from the ground that always made me feel free and alive.
“I’m sorry you’re upset,” he finally says as he kicks a rock down the little cobblestone path leading to the shed.
The concerns I have about Papá are too real and too overwhelming.
He stops and turns to me. “We’re in this together, you know.”
“No, we’re not. I’m alone in this. You said yourself that we can’t be involved and your only focus is boxing.”
“I thought I couldn’t have both.” He takes a deep breath. “You’ve got to understand that I’ve been numb for so long, Dalila. And all I wanted to do is prove that I’m good at something so my mother would love me and not regret the fact that I was born. But when I saw you out here cryin’, something inside me woke up.” He swallows hard. “What if I asked you to be my girlfriend?”
My stomach flutters. “Are you serious? What about boxing? I thought—”
“I can do both,” he says in a determined voice. “Just . . . be honest with me. Always.”
The problem is I do have secrets that I can’t share with him. I’ve already told him so much. I’m worried he’ll think I’m too much trouble if I reveal that I suspect my father isn’t just affiliated with the cartel; he might actually have escalated to be the drug lord El Fuego. His association with Santiago Vega, and the investigators that came out of our house with that briefcase are clues that he’s not innocent. And now my grandmother told me he’s had some shady business deals.
I’m selfish when I say, “I want you to be open with me, Ryan.” It pains me that I can’t be as open with him.
“I will.” He flashes me a little smile. “If I’m gonna be honest, your grandmother’s little fried beef things are addicting. Add those to my gravesite on that Day of the Dead. I’m in training and shouldn’t be eatin’ anything fried.”
“I need to be a good influence on you, or else Juan Camacho isn’t going to be happy with me. No more fried food.”
Suddenly I feel like I can figure out the puzzle that’s become my life. If the Ryan piece fits, then I have one part of my life in order. I won’t be alone.
At least for now.
Back in the house Abuela Carmela can tell the mood between Ryan and me has changed. It’s lighter, as if a rain cloud has just been lifted.
After a few hours of visiting with her and sharing some of my life over the past few years, we have to cut our visit short even when she begs us to stay the night. I tell her I need to be home tonight, so she packs us a bunch of food and gives me a pep talk on staying strong.
Tears fill my eyes as I say good-bye, but I promise to visit her again soon.
“I hate crying,” I tell Ryan as he pulls away from her house and we head home.
“I don’t cry,” Ryan says. “Not since I was in seventh grade.”
“I’m a crier,” I admit. “Not all the time, but when I’m stressed out. Crying releases part of the stress.” I glance at him sideways. “You should try it sometime.”
“Are you sayin’ I’m stressed?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he says.
“What do you want to do with your life, Ryan? Besides boxing,” I ask.
He rests his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” He hesitates and lets out a big breath. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options.”
“What about college? That’s always an option.”
“I’m not smart enough for college. My grades in school suck.” He looks at me sideways. “Let me guess. You’ve got the whole ten-year plan figured out. After graduation go to college. Get a job as a surgeon. A few years after graduation, get married and have kids. Am I close?”
“I don’t have a ten-year plan,” I tell him, then smile sheepishly. “I’m going to be a heart surgeon, but to be honest it’s not my dream.”
“Whose is it?”
“My brother, Lucas.”
“I didn’t know you had brother.”
“He died a few years ago. From a heart murmur.” I pick at my nail. “All my plans have been dictated to me by my parents, and I’m too scared to protest because I don’t want to see them in pain from missing my brother so much.”
“I thought Mexicans were supposed to celebrate the dead.”
“I do,” I tell him. “In my own way. I never told you that Lucas and I used to sneak into my dad’s car and listen to Shadows of Darkness. He’d crank it up so loud my eardrums would ring for days.” I sigh. “I miss him.”
“I think he’d want you to do what you want to do in life, not what he wanted to do.”
I shrug. “You’re probably right.”
“If you could do anythin’, what would you choose to do?”
“I guess I’d like to help needy children like this little boy I met at the town festival. Giving him money for food made me feel really alive and present.”
“You’re an amazing girl, you know that?”
It’s not long before we’re on the main highway, but when we encounter a portion that’s closed and we’re instructed by some highway patrolman to use a side road, I’m on alert. The patrolmen aren’t in uniform and they’re not acting normal. When I see a guy with a shotgun and what looks like a truck full of drugs behind one of the patrol cars I tell Ryan we have to turn around and take the back roads.
Rumors about the war between Las Calaveras and Los Reyes del Norte are fresh in my mind.
“I don’t like driving on the back roads for too long,” I say, watching out for cars in front of and behind us for any more suspicious activity. I just want to get as far away from the roadblock as possible.
“I don’t like it either,” he says, his voice echoing my deep concern.
Ryan grips the wheel as he drives at a fast pace through the desolate rolling hills with farms and open land on each side.
“This isn’t known to be a dangerous area,” I inform him. Most places are safe, but you can’t always tell the bad guys from the good guys.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Dalila.”
After driving for another half hour on the dusty back roads, he lightly brushes his hand on my arm, making my skin feel refreshed and alive. It feels so right being here with him on this journey. I couldn’t have done it without him.
Just when I think we’re out of danger, the engine starts to rev and the truck slows down.
“What the hell?” he says, pressing on the gas.
“What’s going on?” I ask in a panic.
Ryan pulls off the side of the road as the truck comes to a complete stop without him even pressing on the brake. “I have no clue. We still have a quarter of a tank of gas, and we haven’t blown a tire. I think it’s overheated.”
“Overheated? Oh no. I have to get back home tonight, Ryan. It’s not safe for us to be stranded here.”
Especially when there’s nobody around to help us.