Mexico Can't Wait
I stood in the middle of the deserted street, shading my eyes from the oppressive sun. Only a few squat buildings remained - bricks crumbling, wood weathered.
"Maybe this isn't the place," Jules said, glancing about as he got out of the van.
Mac shook his head. "According to the GPS , this is - or was - the place."
I took the postcard out of my pocket. The Chihuahua's paper face, still mocking-cheerful under a comical sombrero, stared back at me.
"Feliz Cumpleanos," I said, though this was my twenty-fifth birthday. I wasn't the teenager I'd been the day the card arrived. I didn't turn it over to see the message; I didn't need to. I'd read it so many times, hoping that there'd be something there I missed - some love between the lines, some clue as to where she'd gone. There never was.
Finally though, here I was in Mexico. It had all come together - the time, the courage, and resources to make it here. Finally. To this town, where the postcard was sent from shortly before my seventeenth birthday. To this town that was now little more than a ghost. I walked away from my friends and towards what had obviously been a cantina of sorts.
"Let him go," I heard Jenny say softly from behind me, cautioning Jules and Mac to give me my space. I appreciated that.
The sagging building still had some broken bottles inside, and a cracked mirror behind what may have once been a bar. Now it was a collection of rotted timber, bent at strange angles like a wooden hybrid spider. If there was any place in this shitty former town my mother had likely spent time, I was guessing this bar was it.
I stared in the mirror trying to conjure up her image - her standing here, a drink in hand, when this place was full of local color and life. But all I saw was me - my own face, weary and dirt-smudged from the reflection and the road. I'd chased my mother's ghost for so long - too long, really. Long enough that I'd forgotten how to see myself clearly. I had to admit it to myself.
"She's gone," I announced to the broken chairs, and holey walls.
"I don' know why she left," I said to what remained of the ceiling.
"She isn't coming back," I said, softer now, to a stain on the rotting floor. "And it doesn't matter."
I looked up at my own face in the mirror, and repeated it, to myself - watching my mouth form the words. "She's gone, I don't know why she left, she's not coming back, and it doesn't matter."
I smiled, and my reflection smiled back. I felt weightless as I walked towards the doorway. The postcard, still in my hand, was the only thing that still felt heavy. I looked down at that long-hated-dog, and tore the card in half, right across his neck. He seemed less smug disembodied like that. I found a nail in the doorframe and tacked up the torn card- right between the Chihuahua's eyes. The other half I folded and tucked into my pocket - it didn't make me feel any less light.
I walked back towards the van - towards my friends who were like my family- smiled and waved to assure them all was well.
"Are you alirght?" Jenny asked anyway, taking me into her arms as soon as I reached her.
"Never better," I said, and meant it. I kissed her forehead, then tugged Mac and Jules into the hug for good measure. "Man, I love you guys."
"We could try asking about her in the next town," Jules said, certain that I was having some sort of breakdown. "We can keep going.."
"Hire a detective, maybe..." Mac said.
"No, it's alright. I'm alright. I'm done," I said. I opened up the driver's door to the van, and settled into the seat. "I found what I was looking for."
I turned the key in the ignition. "Let's just go home."
"Maybe this isn't the place," Jules said, glancing about as he got out of the van.
Mac shook his head. "According to the GPS , this is - or was - the place."
I took the postcard out of my pocket. The Chihuahua's paper face, still mocking-cheerful under a comical sombrero, stared back at me.
"Feliz Cumpleanos," I said, though this was my twenty-fifth birthday. I wasn't the teenager I'd been the day the card arrived. I didn't turn it over to see the message; I didn't need to. I'd read it so many times, hoping that there'd be something there I missed - some love between the lines, some clue as to where she'd gone. There never was.
Finally though, here I was in Mexico. It had all come together - the time, the courage, and resources to make it here. Finally. To this town, where the postcard was sent from shortly before my seventeenth birthday. To this town that was now little more than a ghost. I walked away from my friends and towards what had obviously been a cantina of sorts.
"Let him go," I heard Jenny say softly from behind me, cautioning Jules and Mac to give me my space. I appreciated that.
The sagging building still had some broken bottles inside, and a cracked mirror behind what may have once been a bar. Now it was a collection of rotted timber, bent at strange angles like a wooden hybrid spider. If there was any place in this shitty former town my mother had likely spent time, I was guessing this bar was it.
I stared in the mirror trying to conjure up her image - her standing here, a drink in hand, when this place was full of local color and life. But all I saw was me - my own face, weary and dirt-smudged from the reflection and the road. I'd chased my mother's ghost for so long - too long, really. Long enough that I'd forgotten how to see myself clearly. I had to admit it to myself.
"She's gone," I announced to the broken chairs, and holey walls.
"I don' know why she left," I said to what remained of the ceiling.
"She isn't coming back," I said, softer now, to a stain on the rotting floor. "And it doesn't matter."
I looked up at my own face in the mirror, and repeated it, to myself - watching my mouth form the words. "She's gone, I don't know why she left, she's not coming back, and it doesn't matter."
I smiled, and my reflection smiled back. I felt weightless as I walked towards the doorway. The postcard, still in my hand, was the only thing that still felt heavy. I looked down at that long-hated-dog, and tore the card in half, right across his neck. He seemed less smug disembodied like that. I found a nail in the doorframe and tacked up the torn card- right between the Chihuahua's eyes. The other half I folded and tucked into my pocket - it didn't make me feel any less light.
I walked back towards the van - towards my friends who were like my family- smiled and waved to assure them all was well.
"Are you alirght?" Jenny asked anyway, taking me into her arms as soon as I reached her.
"Never better," I said, and meant it. I kissed her forehead, then tugged Mac and Jules into the hug for good measure. "Man, I love you guys."
"We could try asking about her in the next town," Jules said, certain that I was having some sort of breakdown. "We can keep going.."
"Hire a detective, maybe..." Mac said.
"No, it's alright. I'm alright. I'm done," I said. I opened up the driver's door to the van, and settled into the seat. "I found what I was looking for."
I turned the key in the ignition. "Let's just go home."