Espinazo
March, 1989
It was dawn on the coastal bend. The winds were calm, temperatures were in the low 80s, and scattered cumulus clouds filled the sky. "Humidity's higher'd na gotdam cat's back," John said, as he lit a cigarette in the middle of his sweat-slicked garage floor. "And the mosquitoes are loving it," I said, swatting a plump one perched on my forearm while I squeegied dew off the windshield of Mom's station wagon.
After a big breakfast, my grandmother, mother, sister, and I loaded the car with camping gear and enough provisions to survive four days in rural Mexico. At eight o'clock, we said goodbye to John and left the house to rendezvous with Leo, our leader, in the parking lot at a nearby Presbyterian church. 14 other travelers in 5 separate, fully loaded vehicles were already there, anxiously waiting to begin our 350-mile, all-day journey from Corpus Christi to Espinazo, Mexico.
The day before, I had flown into 90-degree South Texas from Northern Virginia, where the ground was still frozen and covered in snow. The clothing I brought wasn't suitable for a week in the Chihuahuan Desert—except maybe the hiking boots I wore on the plane and two pairs of jeans. That afternoon, I drove to a sporting goods store, bought—per my mother's advice—two pairs of sweatpants (to sleep in, I supposed) and three light-colored short-sleeved shirts.
A few miles into the coastal plains near Alice, on two-lane Highway 59, a thick fog rolled in, reducing visibility to near zero. Our caravan crept cautiously behind an 18-wheeler until we passed through Freer, where a dry line brought much-welcomed blue skies.
"So, who is El Niño Fidencio?" I asked.
"He was a curandero," Mom said, "a faith healer, who was a well-known local in the early 1900s. People travel great distances to celebrate two annual events: Saints Day, in March, and the birth and death of El Niño in October."
"Is it a religious experience?"
"It is for some. It depends on why you go. People believe he performed miraculous healings. After he died, a spiritual movement evolved around him."
"Why are WE going?"
"For me, it began with a folk medicine course I took a couple of years ago at Del Mar College. Leo was the instructor. He takes his class on this trip every semester and welcomes former students and others, who are interested; you will meet them when we get settled. I go because I love the Mexican people and their culture. As for why you are going, you will have to discover that yourself."
Before departing the US, we stopped in Laredo, Texas, for last-minute supplies and gas, then crossed the Rio Grande into Nuevo Laredo, where we received visas for our stay in Mexico. After a brief vehicle inspection, which we expedited with a small "tip" to the cagey inspecting authorities, we were on the road, heading south toward Monterrey.
After two hours of dodging chuckholes on old Mexico Highway 85, Leo guided us to his amigo's cafe in Sabinas Hidalgo. The travelers in each vehicle sat together in their small groups at 4-seater tables in the restaurant, as did the four of us riding in Mom's Cutlass.
We reviewed the menu mostly from the pictures, and all agreed on cheeseburgers, fries, and beer.
"Grandmother is not going to want beer," Mom said to Molly and me. "Maybe she would like a soda, Matt. Can you see what they have?"
"I'll have a beer," Grandmother said matter-of-factly.
"Alright, Grandma!" I said. "Now we won't have to worry about getting our orders mixed up."
We all laughed. It was fun traveling with my mom, grandma, and sis.
A waiter wearing a white guayabera shirt, with an order pad tucked into one of the lower pockets, approached our table.
"Hola, ¿qué te gustaría comer?"
"Hola, señor", I said. "Cuatro hamburguesas con queso y papas fritas y cuatro cervesas tecate."
"Muy bien. ¿Quieren limones para la cerveza?"
"Si, por favor," I said. "Limes would be great."
"Tu comida estará lista pronto."
"Gracias."
"When did you learn Spanish, Matt?" Molly asked.
"On the flight from DC yesterday, but that's all I know," I chuckled.
Two young women and a preschooler, whom I recognized from the church parking lot, were sitting at a nearby table. One of them, a slender Hispanic girl with black hair and a sweet smile, caught my eye.
"Before this week is over," I said. "I plan to meet everyone traveling with us, starting with that table over yonder. I'll be right back."
As I approached their table, the skinny girl nervously whispered, "He's coming this way," to the woman sitting next to her.
"Hi, my name is Matt," I said to her. "Are you two part of Leo's group?"
"Yes," she said, "my name is Beatrice, but everyone calls me B for short."
"Hello, B, my name is Matt, and everybody calls me 'M' for short."
"Really?"
"No."
She chuckled. "And this is my friend Lisa, and her daughter, Lindsey."
"Well, hello, Lisa and Lindsey," I said, shaking the youngster's tiny hand with my thumb and forefinger.
"It's not the letter B, anyway, it's B-E-A," Bea said. "Who are those ladies at your table?"
"Three generations of amazing women, my grandmother, mother, and sister, Molly, and we're also journeying to Espinazo with Leo."
"That's terrific," Bea said. "Maybe we will all stay together."
"I think we will," I said.
At that moment, a waiter arrived with lunch.
"Well, I'll let y'all eat," I said. "See you in Espinazo."
"Bye, Matt," Bea said, with a hint of flirtatiousness. "See you soon."
After lunch, Leo gathered everyone in the parking lot.
"From here, we will continue on 85 south to Monterrey, then take Highway 100 to 53 north toward Monclova. Our next stop will be at a Pemex station in Mina for our final fill-up. From there, we'll continue north for 30 minutes, then turn onto the rugged, unpaved road that leads to Espinazo. If you don't know the route, follow me closely. If you do, travel at your own pace, and we'll meet you for dinner at the Mayor's house."
"The Mayor's house?" I whispered to Mom.
"It's not what you think."
In Monterrey, we broke from the group, so Molly and I could stop at a cervecería for a case of Corona, but rejoined them in Mina.
The washboard road leading to Espinazo was pitted and potholed. We could only average about 10 miles per hour, turning the should-be-short 17-mile homestretch to Espinazo into a tooth-rattling off-road trek through the land that time forgot. Up ahead, the desert had claimed a full-grown cow and left it, roadside, keeled over, and bloated stiff with rigor mortis.
As we approached the rustic pueblo of Espinazo, Mexican vendors were setting up their shops along the town's streets in preparation for a week of festivities.
The Mayor's L-shaped adobe house was modest, with three rooms and a kitchen along two adjacent walls, covered with a combination of rusty corrugated metal and thatch roofing. Each room opened onto a mostly uncovered courtyard surrounded by thick adobe walls that provided privacy and protection from passersby. Their home was comparable to other dwellings in Espinazo, built and maintained by the inhabitants—using scarce materials—unknowingly following natural patterns straight out of an architectural design book I was studying, A Pattern Language, by Christopher Alexander.
The Mayor had a little boy, Guellermo, who, at first sight, dubbed me his new peek-a-boo pal. He made eye contact with me, snickered, then ran and hid behind a wooden barrel. When he wasn't looking, I snuck up behind him and hollered, Boo! He giggled and ran off.
"It looks like you have found a friend," Mom said.
"—or a friend has found me."
Mom and Molly knew the drill. They led Grandma and me to the far corner of the courtyard to a small concrete slab covered by a shed roof just large enough to keep the rain off of us at night. Though there was no rain in the forecast and no evidence that it had ever rained, the cover would provide peace of mind and a high place to hang our lantern and sensitive gear.
We claimed the spot with our bedrolls and bags, then set up a folding buffet table outside the kitchen wall to heat and serve chili, which Mom had cooked the night before.
"I wondered what was in that big kettle I loaded in the car this morning," I said.
"Members of the group team up and take turns cooking the meals for the week," Mom said.
"I always pick the first night because I can do all the cooking at home and be done with my meal responsibility on day one."
To prepare for dinner, we unfolded two more tables end-to-end in the middle of the courtyard to create a long dining table. Bea, Lisa, and Lindsey sat together at a little round camp table they brought. Our little group claimed our spot at the big table, using folding chairs we brought from home. I parked my chair next to Grandma, who was sitting at the end of the table, with Molly to my left, and Mom directly across from me. At the other end of the table, a pretty blonde, Madeline, I heard someone say, about Molly's age, sat with her mother, Barbara. And a young fellow whom I had not officially met sat next to Mom. Everyone had their food and was quietly eating when I sat down.
"It's a good thing those dubious vehicle inspectors at the border didn't discover this delicious chili," I said.
"Oh yeah, they would have confiscated the whole works, cuffed our hands, and forced us to watch them polish it off!"
"Matt, meet Ricky," Molly said.
"Ricky, you and I think alike," I said.
"Twisted?"
"Yes."
Bea and I exchanged chuckles.
Mom had the chili kettle cleaned and dried before I finished my last bite. She was relieved to have met her meal obligation, but that didn't stop her from helping others coordinate theirs. Molly and Grandma were right there too, filling in wherever they saw an opportunity. When there was work to do, they weren't hard to find, and I wasn't the only one who noticed, three peas in a pod.
Guellermo appeared again, lurking behind someone's chair. I pretended to ignore him, then, as I had done before, crept up behind him. Boo! We played cat and mouse until his mother called him to bed.
There were 18 people in our group, counting Leo and Ricky, Madeline and her mother Barbara, Grandma, Mom, Molly, me, ten students, and Lisa's daughter, Lindsey.
Grandma, Mom, and the rest of the group were tired from the long drive and the bowls of chili, and began setting up their bedrolls for sleep as light from the setting sun dwindled.
"Let's go into the town and have a beer," Molly said to Ricky and me.
"That sounds like a fine idea," I said.
"I'm in," Ricky said with a big grin.
We hiked through the twilight from the Mayor's home around a small patch of cactus, guided by lights emanating from a fiesta in the town square. There were Mexican vendors everywhere, selling everything from souvenirs and hot food to cold cerveza.
We found a beer bar: a 12x20 open-sided pop-up canopy covering three four-seater porcelain-topped metal beer tables, a large cooler filled with bottled beer, a jam box blaring Mexican polka, and a tiny round lady to manage the cashbox. Carta Blanca was the only brand I recall in all of Espinazo that year, which greatly simplified the beer order. "¡Tres cervezas, por favor!"
We drank beer and partied among the Mexican people until nearly midnight, then staggered through the darkness, steering clear of the cactus patch, back to the Mayor's hacienda. We tiptoed through the courtyard crowded with sleeping travelers to our bedrolls and passed out from a very long day.
At dawn, I poked my head out of my sleeping bag like a turtle and saw Bea and Lisa cooking breakfast. Grandmother was already up, drinking coffee, sharing stories with Madeline and Barbara about her life in McAllen, her grapefruit trees, her trips to Europe, and her pen pal in Belgium. Mom sipped her coffee and listened thoughtfully. Most of the other campers were still asleep. Bea saw me stir and headed my way.
"Would you like a breakfast taco, Matt?"
"A breakfast taco sounds good about now," I said as I struggled to slither out of my sleep sack.
"Did you have fun in town last night? You came home kinda late."
"Home? Uh, did I wake you, Bea?"
"No. I was in bed, but couldn't sleep."
"How come?"
"Too much on my mind these days."
"Nothing bad, I hope."
"No, it's nothing really. Come on over, I'll make you breakfast."
"Thank you, Bea."
I wiped the sleep from my eyes, put my boots on, and strolled to the long table with my uncombed hair and sat next to Mom and Grandma.
"Did y'all have fun last night, Matt?" Mom said facetiously.
"Fun's my middle name, Mom," I said as I stirred a little cream in my coffee.
"After last night, maybe you won't stay out too late tonight."
Madeline and Barbara became intrigued by the mother-to-older-son banter.
"Don't count on it, Mom. There's supposed to be a live band and dancing in the square," I said as Bea brought me a steaming plate of sausage and egg tacos, "and I think I'll take Bea with me," I continued, smiling at Bea.
"That sounds like fun," Bea said.
"See, Mom? Mr. Fun in action."
"Don't let Mr. Fun corrupt you, Bea," Mom said.
Bea grinned.
"He seems safe enough," Bea said, winking at me.
"Why don't you sit down and have breakfast with us, Bea?" Grandma said.
"I would love to, but I have work to do in the kitchen," Bea said as she strolled back to help Lisa.
"Bea's a cute girl, Matt," Mom whispered.
"She is," Grandma said.
Molly and Ricky had been making their plates at the breakfast buffet, then strolled our way and sat down at the big table.
"How come Matt got his breakfast served to him?" Molly said, teasing me.
"Because he is special," Ricky razzed.
"You see? Ricky knows."
"You are too much, Matt," Mom said, shaking her head.
"Matt, after breakfast, do you want to hike to the caves?" Molly asked.
"Caves?"
"Yes, there are some caves not far from here where El Niño used to go to meditate," Molly said.
"Sure. It sounds interesting."
"How about you, Jimmy?"
"Are you kidding? I'm going to crawl back into my sleeping bag."
"Anyone else want to join Matt and me?"
No takers.
"Grandmother and I are going to wash up and head into town to shop," Mom said.
"Okay, Matt," Molly said, "it looks like it's just going to be us. Let's grab a beer for the road."
Armed with one beer each, we headed off into the desert with no extra water or food. That probably wasn't smart, but it seemed rational at the time. The morning was cool and dry and felt good after a plate of tacos and a few sips of cold cerveza.
"Mom told me that your construction business is very successful, Matt."
"So far, all is going better than expected, but I only have a few small projects in the works. I just finished a detached garage, and when I get back, I'll break ground for an art studio. That will keep me busy for three or four months, then I have a basement finishout and a deck to build. If all goes well, I should gross over $100k this year."
"That's so great to hear. I can't believe you moved to Washington, DC, on fumes, less than two years ago, and in that time, you've become a successful self-employed general contractor."
"Me, too, Molly, 'Where there's a will, there's a way.' Isn't that what Mom always says? What's funny is that with all I have going on back in Virginia, I haven't once thought of it since we left Corpus yesterday."
"That's why I like coming to Espinazo, Matt. It is a place where you can escape from the real world and return with a new perspective."
We finished our beers and stowed the empties in our pockets, then continued hiking toward a small mountain range. We hiked for a half-hour into a dry ravine overgrown with prickly pear and mesquite, which became so thick it obstructed the trail to the caves.
"I'm thinking we should go back to town," Molly said. "We're out of beer, and we didn't bring anything else to drink. That probably wasn't too smart; heading off into the desert without water."
"Yeah, let's head back," I said. "There's a beer calling my name at one of the little bars. I can't see it, but I can hear it."
"Yes!" Molly said. "I hear it, too!!"
We entered the dusty street we had caroused the night before and found Ricky and Madeline enjoying a brew at a shady table. "Can we join you guys?" Molly asked. "Sure, have a seat," Ricky said as he and Madeline made room.
"Matt, you know Madeline, right? From high school?" Molly said.
Madeline and I looked each other over for some morsel of recognition, but shook our heads. "No, I don't think we have ever met," I said. Madeline agreed as she took her last sip of beer. "I should try to find my mom," she said, getting up to pay her bill. "I have to make sure she doesn't buy too many souvenirs; we only have so much space in our car."
"See you later, Madeline," I said.
"When I finish my beer, I'm going to try and find Mom and Grandma," Molly said.
"Okay," I said.
"Matt, you up for another round?" Jimmy asked.
"You never need to ask that question, Mr. Jimmy. You can just call me, 'Another Round,' from here on, if that suits ya."
"You'd better pace yourselves, boys," Molly said, smiling, "don't forget there's dancing tonight."
"We'll be ready," Ricky said as he hollered to the bartender. "Dos cervezas más, por favor."
Ricky and I chatted like old friends as we enjoyed two more rounds of cerveza.
"I think I'm going to head back to camp and get cleaned up," I said.
"Sounds good, Matt. I'm going to see if Leo needs help with anything. See you later."
Ricky headed into town, while I made my way back to the Mayor's house.
The courtyard was empty. Everyone had either gone to the festivities or was hiking in the desert. I collected my towel and a change of clothes and headed for the bathing room. I pulled the knob on the closed door, startling Bea, who was inside, covered in soap.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Bea!" I said as I slammed the door closed.
"It's okay, Matt," Bea said, casually. "I suppose I should have locked the door."
"Or I could have knocked first."
"Well, I'm just glad it was you and not someone else."
"Me too," I said, smiling outside the closed door.
"I...I thought everyone was in town," Bea said, "and figured I'd take advantage of the shower, well, you know, the bucket."
"It appears we had the same idea. So how does this bucket thing work, Bea? Can you show me the ropes?"
"Sure, Matt."
Bea opened the door, now fully clothed, with her wet hair wrapped in a towel.
"Grab the bucket and follow me."
I followed Bea to a leaky garden hose that entered the courtyard through a small hole in the surrounding adobe wall. Someone had devised a pinch-the-end-of-the-hose method for shutting off the water and secured the pinched end with an elastic band.
"Fill up the bucket here," Bea said. "You're only allowed one, so be frugal."
It was easier than I thought to bathe sufficiently in a mere bucket of water, and I got the job done in less than 5 minutes, with water to spare. When I returned to the courtyard, Bea was patiently waiting.
"Do you want to go into town with me?" Bea asked nervously.
"Sure. Let's go exploring!"
Tejano, Polka, Mariachi, and Cumbia music filled the air. People had come from all over to assemble in the tiny pueblo of Espinazo to heal, hope, pray, worship, celebrate, and pay homage to El Niño Fidencio. For me, it was a vacation and a learning experience, and I was proud to wander the dusty streets of old Mexico with a charming woman by my side.
Chickens were running loose, while "Holy Rollers" literally rolled their straightened bodies down the dirt-covered streets, immersed in spirit, focused only on their purpose. Others were visiting museums; many were shopping the pop-up shops for trinkets and local crafts; some were enjoying street tacos and cold beer, while pigs savored fresh slop in squalid little streetside pens.
"What do you do, Matt, I mean, for a living?" Bea asked.
"I am a self-employed carpenter/contractor," I replied.
"I haven't seen you before. Do you live in Corpus Christi?"
"No, the Washington, DC area."
"Washington, DC? Wow! You flew to Texas just to go to Espinazo?"
"Yes. My mom and sister said I would not regret the experience."
"So, what do you think so far? Do you have any regrets?"
"Not in any way," I said with a smile.
"I'm glad you're here, Matt. I'm having fun roaming the streets with you."
"Me too, Bea."
After spending the afternoon in town, we headed back to the Major's house to rest before dinner. Nearly everyone else in the group had returned to do the same. Madeline and her mother were busy preparing beef stew for our evening meal, while Molly and Mom set up tables and chairs. Grandma entertained the group by demonstrating the vulgar function of a plastic boy doll she picked up in town; when you pulled his spring-loaded shorts down, he peed water on you. Nice, Grandma.
Guellermo appeared from around the corner. "Hey, Grandma, show little Guellermo your new doll," I said.
Grandma was more than happy to prank the unsuspecting youngster; after the doll's shorts dropped, Guellermo giggled and ran off.
At dinner, I sat next to Bea—until Guellermo wedged in between us—at one end of our makeshift dining table, across from Medeline and Barbara. Mom, Molly, and Grandma sat at the other end with Leo, Ricky, Lisa, and little Lindsey—one big happy family of travelers.
"This stew is delicious," I said.
"Thank you, Matt," Madeline said. "When will it be your turn to cook?"
"Matt is on my team," Mom said.
"I didn't see Matt doing any work," Madeline said, snickering.
"Matt provided moral support," Molly said, smiling.
"We didn't need Matt's help," Grandma reiterated.
"Matt, you're lucky you have a family that takes care of you so well," Madeline said. "And I have to say, your mom doesn't look old enough to be your mother."
"Right? She's 53, but you wouldn't know it," I said.
"Maaaaaaaattttt!!!" Mom hollered. "Don't tell everyone how old I am!"
"What's the big deal, Mom. Nobody cares."
"I care!" Mom said sternly. "If you do that again, you'll be in big trouble!"
"Okay, Mom, I'll watch my tongue."
Bea laughed.
"Somebody's in trouble," Madeline said, still snickering.
"No, Madeline. Big trouble!" I said, winking at my mom, then at Guellermo, as Mom sneered at me, the way she used to when I was a mischievous little boy. Guellermo looked at me and giggled as though he could read my thoughts.
After dinner, Molly and Mom helped Madeline and her mother clear the tables and wash the dishes, while Ricky and I popped the tops off a couple of cold brews. Bea moved to chat with Lisa and Lindsey, while Grandma carefully stowed her precious peeing doll. After a few sips of beer, I overheard Bea talking quietly with Lisa about something of concern. I thought I heard my name, then I heard Lisa say, "What are you doing, Bea? What about Lane?" "I know what I'm doing," Bea said firmly as she returned to her seat by me.
"Is everything okay, Bea?"
"Yes," she said, resting her hand lightly on my forearm. "I'll tell you later."
"Do you want to go dancing tonight?" I asked.
"No, not tonight, Matt. I should stay here and hang out with Lisa."
"Okay, Bea. Next time?"
"Yes, before the trip is over."
"Okay, I'm not going to forget."
"It's a promise," she said.
At sunset, Molly, Madeline, Ricky, and I hiked to the square for the evening's festivities under the stars. We grabbed beers at a roadside bar and chilled while we watched the band set up. As the light of day faded into darkness, the band began to play, and the townspeople commenced trickling in toward a tight group of locals huddling in the center of the dance floor. Molly and I kicked off the evening with the first polka of the night. For reasons unknown, the locals didn't begin dancing until nearly a solid minute into each song. Perhaps they were trying to get a feel for the beat, or maybe exercising dance etiquette we obviously weren't familiar with. We didn't know; we fine-tuned our dance steps on the floor. We didn't appear to be offending anyone, so we continued dancing two complete laps around the cluster before the first couple moved. Madeline and Ricky soon joined us, and we danced the night away. My last was a slow dance with Madeline.
"I think Bea likes you, Matt."
"I think I like her too."
Madeline smiled.
The next morning, for the first time since we arrived in Espinazo, I felt the urge to take care of business. For that purpose, the Mayor's family had mounted a toilet on a double layer of 3/4-inch plywood, set over a deep pit near the far end of the courtyard, surrounded by 6-foot-high masonry walls, a sheet-metal roof, and a plastic curtain doorway. I poked my head past the curtain. It was dark and uninviting. I chose to risk adventure and find privacy in the desert. At the edge of town, I passed a small house with a calf tied to a post out front; lacking refrigeration, the inhabitants likely needed to keep it alive until it was time to eat. As I hiked a cactus-lined trail into the desert, I spotted the bare backsides of others who shared the same idea. People with fewer inhibitions didn't wander far from the village, and by the mounds of freshly covered poo, I'd say that was most people. But, as expected, the mounds thinned as I trekked further into the bush. Before long, I discovered virgin ground and found comfort behind a patch of thicket.
As I turned to head back toward town, I unexpectedly realized how far I had gone, at least a mile from the nearest structure. And I was alone, for the first time since we arrived in Espinazo. I began thinking about the town, the people, the festivities, my family, our group of travelers from Texas, El Niño, and the desert's tranquil solitude. And Bea? Was she just part of the magic of Espinazo?
Later, Molly, Mom, Grandma, and I sauntered up the ridge behind the Mayor's courtyard home to visit the cemetery. It was a cool morning in the Chihuahuan Desert, and the view from the ridge was spectacular. A mix of prickly pear, mesquite, ocotillo, sotol, and yucca extended from the outskirts of Espinazo to the mountains on the horizon.
When we returned to the Mayor's casa, around noon, his family was busy preparing cabrito for their evening meal. They dug a hole in the ground in front of their house, filled it with hot coals, and placed a grate on top. When the temperature was right, the Mayor placed a seasoned kid on the grill and covered it with a wash tub to contain the heat and smoky flavors. It cooked all afternoon.
Our group ate a snack in the courtyard, then scattered to the winds. Molly, Ricky, and I gravitated to the nearest bar and ordered the first round.
"Mmmmmmm...why does that first swallow of beer always taste so good? Is it the music?"
"Don't analyze it, Matt, just drink it!" Ricky chortled.
"That I can do," I said.
Molly laughed.
"Did you guys hear about the fireworks show tonight?" Molly asked.
"Yes, Leo said it was going to be a big one," Ricky said. "The biggest ever, in Espinazo anyway, but that's saying something."
Molly told a story from Espinazo a few years back about a fireworks explosion that severed the leg of one of the pyrotechnicians. His drunken compadres tried to rush him to a hospital, but he bled to death when they lost their way in the desert.
Without warning, a fierce sandstorm commenced moving through town. We saw it coming in time to cover our beers and rush for cover. The little lady running the bar saw it, too, grabbed her cashbox and music, and followed us to a cinderblock cubbyhole across the way. As the storm intensified, we huddled closer to protect our eyes and open beers from the blowing sand. It blew hard for nearly a minute, then ended as fast as it had begun. The bar was a wreck. All the tables had turned turtle, and the canopy had hopped a few feet into the road. We helped the little lady right the tables and reset the canopy, while she fired up the jam box and dusted the beer cooler. The music magically restored the mood. Things had returned to normal, once again, as we casually retook our dusty seats.
"Well, I hope that doesn't happen tonight," I said.
"What doesn't happen?" Ricky asked.
"Someone getting a limb blown off by fireworks," Molly said as she took a sip of beer.
Something about our conversation made me think about Bea, wondering if she was okay after the sandstorm, and there she was, walking up to our table with Lisa and little Lindsey.
"Hi, Matt, Molly, and Ricky," Bea said. "That was a wicked storm!"
"It was," I said. "I'm happy to see you are okay...you all are okay."
"Do y'all want to join us?" Molly asked. "We can move one of the other tables over."
"No thanks," Lisa said. "We need to get back so Lindsey can take her nap."
Bea looked disappointed.
"Why the rush?" I said. "Time stands still in Espinazo, doesn't it?"
"You don't want to witness Lindsey's kranky side," Lisa said. "C'mon Bea, let's get going."
"Why don't you join us, Bea?" I said. "Unless you need to take a nap too."
"No, I don't," Bea said, looking at Lisa.
"Suit yourself," Lisa said as she walked away, exasperated.
"Is Lisa angry?" Molly asked.
"She might be," Bea said. "She's worried about Lane, my boyfriend. The three of us spend lots of time together."
Boyfriend? Is this her way of telling me?
"Why is she worried about your boyfriend?" Molly asked.
"She's afraid I might leave him for someone else," Bea said.
"Anyone we kno__" Ricky began.
"Let's have another beer," I interrupted, "and head back to the Mayor's for dinner. We need to eat before the fireworks show tonight."
"Fireworks?" Bea asked.
"Yes, join us, if you want," I said.
"I'd like that," Bea said.
At sunset, people began migrating to a clearing at the edge of town to watch the fireworks display. The pyrotechnicians running the show constructed a wooden tower, 3' x 3' x 20' high, rigged with fireworks programmed to ignite one another gradually until the last one triggered the grand finale. From our group, Mom, Grandma, Molly, Ricky, Leo, Madeline, Bea, me, and nearly all of Leo's students joined the Mexican people to observe the spectacle.
The show began with the lighting of a fuse near the base of the tower. The interconnected fireworks began igniting hundreds of tiny sparklers along the length of the core, until the tower itself became one colossal sparkler. The next sequence launched a barrage of Roman Candles that exploded high above the desert, illuminating the crowd and the town's buildings. Near the end of the show, four disks, rigged with fireworks, mounted vertically on the top four sides of the tower, began to spin increasingly faster, while launching an array of colored sparks into the dark sky. With precision, the final function lit the last massive disk, mounted flat on the top of the tower. It began spinning, too, even faster than the others, like a giant ring of fire, then abruptly launched from the tower and shot up into the night sky like a flying saucer returning to its home planet. The crowd gasped in awe. A small child standing close by tugged at her father's trousers and cried, "Mirar!!"
When the show ended, Molly, Ricky, Madeline, Bea, and I, along with some of the students and many of the townspeople, headed to the square for live music, dancing, and cerveza. The dance floor was full. Molly and I polkaed circles around the locals at the beginning of each song as we had done the night before. Madeline and Ricky were doing the same. On a few passes, I glimpsed Bea dancing with some of her classmates.
"Go ask Bea to dance, Matt," Molly said. "You know you want to."
"Do you think she wants to dance with me?" I said, knowing it was a stupid question.
"That's a stupid question, Matt. Go dance with her!"
"Okay, Molly. You're right."
When Bea finished her dance, I slipped toward her before the next suitor appeared.
"Hi, Bea, would you like to dance?" I asked, nervously, as though she might turn me down.
"Yes! I was wondering when you were going to ask me, Matt."
"I was nervous," I said timidly.
"Well, you don't need to be," she responded, "never around me."
Bea and I danced together until after midnight, trying to get to know each other between long stretches of loud music. I told her about my business in Virginia and some of my projects, while she shared her plans to finish college and move out of Corpus. The last dance was a slow one. Near the end of the song, I blurted, "Bea, would you like to visit me in Washington?"
Who said that? Was that me? There's no way she is going to say yes to such an absurd proposal. We barely know each other.
Without hesitation, she said, "Yes." We both smiled as we looked into each other's eyes. Nothing more was said, or needed to be said, not then, anyway. It was too difficult to talk over the deafening music. Bea was coming to visit me, and that was that. The next steps were just a matter of timing and logistics.
After the dance, our group reassembled to safely make our way through the darkness back to the Major's house. We weren't worried about getting mugged or anything like that. Espinazo wasn't that kind of place. We were concerned, however, about stumbling onto a thorny thicket or rousing a sleeping rattlesnake. Espinazo was that kind of place.
When we were getting underway, a couple of the band members, the drummer and guitarist, approached us with big smiles.
"Hola americanos. ¿Te gustaría acompañarnos en nuestra hoguera esta noche?" the drummer asked.
I looked around the group, puzzled.
"He wants to know if we want to join them at their campfire," Molly said.
We were all hesitant after the long day in the desert.
"¡Tenemos mucha cerveza!" said the drummer.
Everyone knew that much Spanish, but most, including Bea, chose to pass up the late-night party for a decent night's sleep.
"I'm up for a few beers," I said.
"Me too," said Ricky.
"It sounds good to me, too," Molly said, "but I'm not staying up too late."
"Agreed," I said.
Ricky nodded.
"Be careful, Matt," Bea whispered as she headed back to the Major's house with the others.
"I will."
"Vale, pero solo nosotros tres tenemos espíritu fiestero," Molly said to the band members. They laughed.
"¡Excelente! ¡Síguenos!"
We followed the two musicians to a healthy fire near the fireworks tower. The rest of the band and a few others were already there, celebrating the evening. They handed each of us a beer and welcomed us to their private party.
"muchas gracias," I said.
"De nada, amigo. Hay muchas más cervezas en la nevera. Sírvete.
¿Hablas español?" the guitar player asked me.
"Lo entiendo un poco, pero no puedo habla bien," I said.
"No hay problema, amigo. Estamos contentos de que hayas podido unirte a nosotros. Las palabras no importan." said the drummer.
"What did he say, Molly?"
"He said, no problem. They are happy we could join them. Language isn't important," Molly said, then redirected to the musicians, "Por cierto, ¿por qué nos invitaste a tu fiesta?"
"Parecíais gente divertida, por cómo bailabais rápido por la pista de baile," Jose chuckled.
"What..."
"I asked them why they invited us to their party," Molly said. "The drummer said they liked our crazy dancing and thought we were fun."
"Well, we are! Aren't we?" I said. "Me llamo Mateo y esta es mi hermana Molly y mi amigo Ricky."
"Es un placer conoceros a todos. Me llamo Juan. El guitarrista es José y el bajista es Roberto."
"Hola, Juan, Jose, and Roberto," I said.
It was a calm, cool night under the stars. Heat from the blaze felt good while sipping cold beer in the wee hours. Molly and Ricky were engaged in a jovial all-Spanish conversation with some of the partiers; I listened for familiar words and smiled while I watched smoke from the fire settle into a nearby valley. In a matter of hours, our group of misfits around the fire would be going our separate ways, back to the routines of our regular lives, but that night, we were together, sharing stories and the warmth of our hearts in the peaceful desert.
¿Cuál es tu trabajo, Matteo?" asked Jose.
"I am a carpenter—not sure of the Spanish word for it," I said.
"Carpentero," said Juan, the drummer.
At 1:15 a.m., Molly and Ricky made the wise decision to call it an evening and catch a little shut-eye.
"Matt, are you coming?" Molly asked.
Juan quickly grabbed a beer from the cooler and handed it to me, giving me no choice but to stay for another round.
"What can I say?" I said. "There's still beer in the cooler."
The mariachis laughed.
"Okay, don't stay out too late," Molly said. "We have to head home tomorrow morning."
"I won't."
With that, Molly and Ricky disappeared into the early morning darkness.
"¿es tu madre, Matteo?"
"Sí. Hermana. Madre. They are the same."
Laughter filled the smoky air.
I partied with our amigos until after 3:00 a.m. I think they wanted to watch the sun rise, but it was past time for me to throw in the towel—way past time. I said goodbye to my new friends and staggered back toward the Mayor's casa. Fortunately, there was light in the sky—unexpected light—the moon; it had risen to guide me safely home; more magic from Espinazo.
The next morning, a few hours later, I woke with my head buried beneath my blanket. Through the fibers, I could see light, too much light for early morning, but I remained still, listening to the sounds in the courtyard. Some in our group were moving about, clanking cookware. A rooster crowed; it wasn't the Mayor's bird, it was too far away. A donkey pulling a creaky wooden cart brayed as it passed nearby. Cattle mooed from a distant pasture. Ricky and Leo were verbally troubleshooting a mechanical problem with his transmission, wondering whether it would make it back to Texas. Bea was recounting the details of the miraculous fireworks show to Lisa and Lindsey. Grandma, Mom, and Molly were chatting with Madeline and Barbara about stopping at the Cadillac Bar in Nuevo Laredo for lunch. That sounds good, I thought. Gradually, the disparate conversations merged into one indiscernible mumble, which I could no longer deconstruct after a blurred night around a desert campfire. With a burst of energy, I crawled out of the rack and hopped to my unsteady feet.
"Good morning, Matt!" Ricky chuckled. "I thought you were going to sleep all day!"
"Leave me alone, Ricky. I've got a massive headache that only coffee and a cigarette can cure."
"What's the matter, Matt? Did somebody stay out too late?" Ricky smirked in an irritating sing-song voice.
"Go f*ck yourself, Ricky," I said, trying to smile through my dry mouth.
Ricky laughed, and so did Madeline, as she approached us.
"I was coming to your rescue, Matt, but it looks like you can take care of yourself," Madeline said cheerfully.
"How is Mr. Fun this morning?" Mom asked with a big grin.
"He's doing great, Mom, tip-top," I said, feeling a little dizzy. "He's ready to rock and roll!"
"Well, eat some breakfast, Mr. Fun, and start packing. We need to get on the road."
After coffee and a breakfast taco, I felt the need for another deep desert visit. Still wearing yesterday's clothes, I began hiking down the path I had taken the day before, past the small house with the calf tied up, but it was gone—yesterday's dinner. Suddenly, a vehicle full of waving people speeding across the desert caught my eye. It was the fireside mariachis! The bass player ascended through the passenger window like a jack-in-the-box and hollered, "Mateo!!" I returned their wave with both hands, "Adiós, amigos!!"
When I returned, Grandma, Mom, and Molly had already packed and loaded their gear in Mom's Oldsmobile. Others had packed their vehicles as well.
"We're waiting on you, Matt," Mom said.
"Okay, Mom, I'll be ready in 10 minutes."
I cleaned up, changed clothes, packed, and hastily loaded my gear to catch up with everyone else. While our group said their goodbyes in front of the Mayor's house, Guellermo appeared, this time, without his big toothless grin.
"What's the matter, Guelleremo?" I said.
"He's sad you're leaving," Mom said.
"Aw...I'll be back to see you soon, Guellermo," I said, then pointed to my mother. "Esta es mi madre, Marguerite."
"Margarita?" Guellermo said, giggling.
"No...I mean..., si, Margarita!"
Guellermo ran off giggling, "Margarita! Margarita!"
"I guess he's okay," I said, "but when we get back, you'll have to legally change your name."
"Maybe I will," Mom said. "Hey, you'd better go say goodbye to Bea, it looks like they are getting ready to leave."
I looked over Mom's shoulder, spotted Bea loading her stuff into Lisa's car, and walked toward her.
"Hi Bea, now that you've had a good night's sleep, do you still want to visit me in Washington?" I asked cheerfully.
"Yes, definitely."
"I'm happy to hear that. I thought maybe I was dreaming last night."
"You weren't, Matt. I'm looking forward to spending time with you in Virginia," Bea said as she gave me her phone number.
"I think we're going to stop at the Cadillac Bar on the way back to Corpus. Are you and Lisa planning to go?"
"No. I think Lisa wants to get me as far away from you as she can."
"Oh yeah...your boyfriend?"
"Don't worry about him, Matt. I'm going to break up with him as soon as I get home."
"Because of me?"
"No. Lisa doesn't know it, but this has been coming for a long time. Meeting you only makes me think, it's time."
"Okay, Bea. I'll call you tomorrow night, after I fly back to Virginia."
"I'll be waiting to hear from you," Bea said.
We held each other tight and said goodbye one last time before she and Lisa drove off—regrettably, due to unforeseen life events, that was the last time I ever saw Bea's alluring dark eyes.
"I'm driving, Matt," Molly said jovially. "You haven't had much sleep, and you're probably still drunk."
"I'm fine, Sis, but I must be getting old," I said. "I just can't drink 100 beers like I use to."
Grandma and Mom settled into the back seat, me in the front passenger seat, and Molly at the wheel.
"Get some sleep, Matt. We're meeting Ricky and Madeline for lunch at the Cadillac Bar."
"That sounds delicious," I said as I dozed off.
I woke up for a few minutes after we passed through Sabinas Hidalgo, where we had stopped for lunch on the way to Espinazo, where I first met Bea. That seemed so long ago. The front seat of Mom's car wasn't comfortable, not for sleeping anyway. I squirmed into another unpleasant position and somehow fell back asleep.
"We're here, Matt," Molly said, trying to wake me up.
"We're here where?" I asked.
"The Cadillac Bar! Wake up!"
"C'mon, Mr. Fun," Mom said, snickering, "it's time for lunch...well...I suppose it is breakfast for you."
"Yeah, enchaladas, rice and beans, and beer," Molly said.
"Beer and enchaladas for breakfast?" I said. "I like Espinazo trips!"
Leo sat at the head of the table, with Mom, Grandma, and me to his left and Ricky, Molly, Madeline, and Barbara to his right, sitting across from me. Grandma, Mom, Leo, and Barbara ordered coffee; Molly and Madeline ordered Margaritas; Ricky and I ordered beers; and everyone ordered the Cadillac Special for lunch. The mood was cheerful, unwound, and mellow—a side benefit from 4 relaxing days in Espinazo.
"Matt, when are you going back to Virginia?" Madeline asked.
"My flight leaves Corpus at noon tomorrow," I said.
"Do you have lots of work to do?" Grandma asked.
"Yes. I'm breaking ground on a new art studio next Monday. It will be fun, as construction projects go. I'll be creating a room for people to create."
"I like that," Barbara said.
"Matt's a great carpenter, but I'm also trying to get him interested in computers," Mom interjected.
I rolled my eyes as everyone became focused on me.
"I can't see his face, but I know he is rolling his eyes," Mom said. "I just want him to learn a skill that's not so physical; something he can still do when he gets to be my age."
"And how old is that, Matt?" Madeline said, grinning.
"53!" I said vociferously.
Laughter erupted.
"Matt!!!!" Mom scolded. "You better watch it, you're not too old for a spanking, kiddo!"
More laughter
"You know I love you, Mom."
"I know."