before stealing truck

I was at the university when I got the email.  Short and to the point, immediately making my heart sink. 

We tried to call but your phone is off.  Your father has passed.  We need you to write and fax a letter that gives permission for cremation.  I put more money in your account.

Love, Mom xoxo

It’s not like my dad was ever there anyway.  My clearest memories about him were of me sitting at the window, waiting for him to show up, only for him to have forgotten about me in the midst of his binge drinking.  

And now here he was, inconveniencing me on a day that I was supposed to be focused on getting my thesis project together.  A day I was supposed to spend helping Noelia and Caro at the shop because Mateo was out of town.  A day that was supposed to be about fun and chaos and living in the moment with my new found-family because I only had a few more weeks left in SP.  

The pit in my stomach told me that I didn’t want to hang out with people… that I actually wanted to be alone… as far away from civilization as possible.

As if I weren’t already isolated enough.  

My body was numb as I packed up my laptop, threw my backpack over my shoulder, and headed towards the highway where the town’s only internet cafe sat.  Like usual, nobody was there except the owner, an older gentleman who barely said a word to anyone, so there were no worries about gossip getting out quicker than I wanted it to.  

I used my calling card in a tiny phone booth at the corner of the shop.  My mom sounded tired, maybe annoyed that I was bothering her in the middle of a work day, who knows.  She just told me what to write on the letter and the fax number.  She asked if I was okay.  

“Of course I am.  It’s not like I ever saw him anyway.”  

Even I believed it when I said it, so I can’t blame her for taking me at my word.  Because why wouldn’t I be fine?  I never saw him anyway.  

I mindlessly scribbled out the letter as my brain scrambled to find something fun to do.  Something to remind me that I’m alive.  Something to reattach myself to my body because I was floating away.

A few minutes later, letter faxed and the mild inconvenience out of the way, I found myself in front of Ramon’s truck.  It looked abandoned, just sitting there all lonely in the driveway, as if begging to be taken out for a spin.  The keys were just in the glovebox.  It was the family truck.  Anyone could use it, including me.  I’d driven it before.  He wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it for the afternoon.  

I reached for the door handle when a tiny voice called out to me, “what are you doing?”

I flinched, not expecting to see Gabriela (Ramon’s daughter) standing so closely.  “Oh, I just need to go do some stuff…”  I hadn’t realized she would be home at this exact time – I knew Ramon and Caro working, Claudia was babysitting at the co-op, and Zunilda was at the church.  Why was a 9 year old just walking around on her own without adult supervision anyway?

“I wanna go!” she said excitedly.  

“No, I don’t think so…”

“Come onnnnn, pleaseeeee?” she begged, tugging on my shirt and giving me her best adorable face.  “I’ll behave the whole time.”

“But I’m going to Monte Seco.  It’ll be a lot of walking and waiting around while I take pictures.  You’ll get tired.”

“I looooooooooooooove Monte Seco!!  I love walking!  I wanna go and see the snakes and frogs!  Let’s gooooo!”  She started jumping up and down, as if I had agreed to have her come.

“But shouldn’t you ask your mom?”

“Nope, as long as I’m home for dinner, she lets me play with my friends because I’m older now.  I’m bigger.”  She stood up straight as if to prove her point.

I was running out of excuses for her not to go.  “Gabi… I think I just want to go alone.”

Her eyes instantly watered.  “You don’t wanna hang out with me?”  I wondered if this worked on Ramon.  “I just thought it’d be fun to hang out.  Because you said you’re going back home soon and then we can’t hang out anymore.”

That’s all it took for me to reluctantly agree to have her tag along.  I definitely knew it was a bad idea, but I just didn’t care.  I pushed the anxiety out of my mind and just climbed inside the truck, child at my side.  

At first, I hesitated to engage.  But she was just too fucking cute and mischevious.  As soon as we got onto the highway, she was digging through a pile of cassette tapes to find her favorite, probably one she wasn’t usually allowed to listen to.  When she popped it in, I recognized the music from rides I’d taken with Caro and/or Noelia – it was a Puerto Rican group from the early 2000s with raunchy lyrics and catchy beats.  I understood why Gabi took this opportunity to listen.

Within minutes, we were both singing and dancing along, giggling at my terrible accent and her misinterpreted words.  My mom’s email the farthest thing from my mind.