Like Father, Like Son: Part 3
The sun had begun to lift the darkness that blanketed the Texas desert. The first rays of the day were already raising the temperature and would soon send the wildlife scurrying into burrows to hide.
Javier and Cecilio trudged along, the outstretched branches of low shrubs scraping along their dirty jeans. Each boot step kicked up more and more sand as the overnight dew was quickly evaporated by the increasingly sweltering sun.
“We should have left earlier. It’s going to be too hot soon,” Javier said, sweat beginning to form on his brow.
“You know we had to wait. They switch over at 2, so that’s the best time to cross,” Cecilio replied. He shielded his eyes with his hands as he scanned the horizon. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a house soon.”
The brothers continued on, each step closer to achieving their dreams they hoped. The edge of the sun had just begun to come into view, its shimmering presence announcing itself with a new wave of heat.
“Should we start walking towards the city? We might find a house faster that way,” Javier asked.
“We’ll also find la migra faster that way, too. No, I think we need to keep walking north towards the highway. Someone will be living out this way,” Cecilion responded, trying to sound sure of himself.
“Pos echale ganas. Let’s get moving faster before we die of the heat out here,” responded Javier. “I didn’t come all this way to get so close and fail again.”
“I made the same trip you did, Javier. If we push too hard, we’ll tire out too quickly and we’ll be worse off,” Cecilio sternly said.
Javier was about to respond angrily when he heard something that stopped him short: the barking of a dog.
Cecilio and Javier turned to where the sound was coming from, just around a small berm of sand that stood before them. They quickly scurried around it and found themselves face to face with a small family farm. A beat up pickup sat out front of a simple ranch house.
The boys nearly ran to the front screen door of the home, greeted by the source of the barking. The old farm dog loudly announced that the farm’s owner had some unannounced guests.
“Will you shut up?!” an unseen voice bellowed through the house. “It’s too damn early for you to start.”
The person attached to the voice rounded the corner and came into full view of the brothers. Tight, bronze skin produced by the harsh Texas sun covered the furrowed brow line of the gruff sounding older man.
“Who the hell are you?” the old farmer asked. “I’m not looking for any farmhands.”
“No, sir. We’re not looking for work,” Cecilio responded in broken English. “We’re looking for a ride.”
“Ah, a couple boys just come across the river, huh?” the man asked as he approached the screen door. “Been a little while since I’ve had any of you come knocking at the door.”
The farmer stared at Javier and Cecilio intensely. They boys gave each other concerned glances, uneasy about what the old man might do.
“I’ll be honest, boys. I don’t give a good damn if you’re legal or not. You come to work hard and not cause trouble, I can’t blame you. Hell, the whole state used to belong to your people anyway,” the old farmer said. “I’ll take you into town, but gas ain’t cheap. Those Arabs are at it again.”
The brother sighed deeply in relief and Cecilio asked in his broken English how much it would be to get into the city.
“Well, Eagle Pass is quite a ways away. Hour each way, I reckon. You boy’s really came out far to sneak past them border patrol folks, huh?” the old man said, nearly chuckling. “All’s I got is that old pickup and it guzzles the gas so I’m gonna need $25 for each of you.”
Javier’s eyes opened wide. That was the exact amount the preacher had given them the night before. He couldn’t believe it.
Cecilio quickly handed over the money and the boys were soon in the bed of the old pickup, heading down an old dirt road towards the highway.
Javier looked towards the east, where Eagle Pass and his future lay before him. The sun had made its full ascension into the sky and was beating down on the brothers.
It didn’t matter, though.
The dry Texas air rushed past Javier’s face as they sped down the highway. He closed his eyes as the wind dried away the sweat and tears that had begun to form.
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The afternoon sun shone down through a cloudless sky. The blazing heat radiated off the black highway, turbulent waves of hot air turning the roads into a pool of dancing mirages.
The large brown SUV sped along the Arabian desert highway, its inhabitants undisturbed by the harsh rays outside. The air conditioner pumped frigid air into the sealed cabin, keeping it cool enough for the sleeping baby in the back seat.
“Danieta says they’re on their way. They had to stop for gas,” Betina said to Jonathan, looking down at her phone. “They shouldn’t be too long.”
“Ok, babe. Sounds good. I’ll just let the air out while we wait for them,” Jonathan responded without taking his eyes off the road.
Dunes of sand passed by as they drove along. The desert looked like an ocean of light brown waves, frozen in time. The occasional herd of camels broke the illusion, as they strode along the arid landscape in search of any vegetation to graze on.
The 80’s music playing over the radio was soon interrupted by the robotic voice of the SUV’s navigation, warning that their exit had arrived. Jonathan let off the gas slowly as he steered into the exit lane. The SUV shed speed as it coasted along the paved highway offshoot.
Jonathan brought the vehicle to stop as they were greeted by a gate at the end of the exit road, a sign completely in Arabic off to the side. He inched the car forward until the metal gate arm suddenly began to lift out of their path, triggered by a weight sensor in the road. Jonathan sped off down a narrow, winding road that led them through the dunes.
The lone vehicle on the road, the SUV glided along the sandy pavement with little effort. The view out of the window was of never-ending dunes that all looked the same to the untrained eye.
Jonathan suddenly let off the gas and slowly pulled over to the side of the road, parking on the hard-packed sand nearly turned to stone.
“We’ll wait for Michael and Danieta here. We go in just across the road there, so I’ll go ahead and let the air out of the tires so we don’t have to wait when they get here, ok?” Jonathan said ti Betina.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be here,” Betina responded. She looked back at the sleeping baby in the back seat. “I’ll start waking her up so she doesn’t get freaked out.”
Jonathan hopped out the vehicle, air pressure gauge in hand. He took the valve cap off the first tire and began to let the air out slowly. He checked the pressure every ten seconds or so, finally settling on a number he was happy with. He replaced the cap and moved on to the next tire, repeating the process.
As the last tire was approaching the perfect level of deflated, a small SUV pulled up behind Jonathan’s vehicle and parked. Michael hopped out and walked over to Jonathan, hand outstretched.
“How are you doing, buddy? I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Michael said, shaking Jonathan’s hand. “Needed a bit of petrol.”
“No, not at all. Besides it gave me some time to let the air out. These big tires take forever,” Jonathan responded as he pulled in his friend for a quick “bro hug”.
Michael smiled and said, “Good. Let me air mine out real quick and we’ll head over.”
The pair of SUV’s were soon among the dunes, accelerating up steep faces and crawling along the peaks. After a few short minutes, the dunes gave way to a large flat area where the group had met so many times before and the drivers parked close to a familiar tree.
Chairs, coolers, bags of food, and a grill were soon emptied from the back of the vehicles. Firewood was piled up near the remnants of their campfire from weeks before. Charcoal was emptied into the grill and a fire soon lit.
While he waited for the grill to heat up and Betina and Danieta kept an eye on baby Fuentes, Jonathan climbed up a nearby dune. Michael followed close behind as the pair trudged up the shifting dune face, every step causing a mini avalanche.
Reaching the top, they sat down in the warm sand and stared out at the desert. The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows behind the taller dunes.
“It never gets less beautiful, does it, buddy?” Michael asked, taking in the view.
“There are certainly worse places to be,” Jonathan responded. He closed his eyes and let the warm rays of the setting sun and the dry Arabian desert air wash over his face.
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I spent a large portion of my life believing that I had nearly nothing in common with my father. Besides our mutual love of baseball and some of our favorite foods, we could not be more different, I thought.
It certainly didn’t help that I took after my mother’s side of the family, which had more European blood.I could best describe my father as a typical Mexican man; dark skin, jet black hair, shorter stature. I shared the black hair, but had fairer skin and was taller than him by the time I was 13 years old.
Our childhoods could not be anymore different, either. Where he grew up in a tiny Mexican desert town, I grew up in the suburbs of a major U.S. city. He grew up with no TV and spent his days running around the dirt roads of the town; I had a TV in my room with cable and a Nintendo.
As I grew older and thought I knew better, we naturally began to clash. Raised voices and the sound of slamming doors soon filled the air of our home. I spent less and less time at home, preferring to run around with my friends who all grew up like me. There eventually came a day when I left for good and our relationship eventually improved with time and distance.
Even then, our interactions were strained at times. We were just simply different people from different worlds.
All of that changed when I went abroad for the first time. I finally understood what it was to leave everything you have known behind in search of a better life for my family. I finally had the perspective I needed to understand a man I spent decades viewing as nearly a stranger.
As more time goes on, I find out more and more about my father’s journey and realize we share many of the same experiences. The time and place may be drastically different, but what we take away from it overlaps.
That’s why I wanted to tell this story. As we grow older and begin to clash with our own children, we have to understand that they don’t have our perspectives yet. They won’t live the same lives that we do, but there is always something new to learn from experiencing life.
In the end, we need to recognize that we maybe aren’t as different as we think we are. We each have our own journeys and stories, but it’s the shared perspectives that are important. Sometimes we just need a little patience until then.
