“Tía Isabela will hate me,” I said.
“And how,” Jesse added.
Edward nodded. “She’ll be angry for a while, but, as I told you, my mother doesn’t like airing her dirty linen in public, especially now. She’ll rant and rave and then just forget it. She’ll try to make you feel sorry for her having to put up with two reckless teenage girls. Believe me, she’ll be working at being the victim here.”
“Nevertheless, don’t sugarcoat it, Edward. Isabela Dallas is not exactly going to treat any of us with kid gloves,” Jesse said.
“It will all be bluster,” Edward insisted, giving Jesse a look of reprimand. “Don’t worry about it, Delia. Just enjoy the trip, and start thinking of all the places and things you want to show us. For now, lie back and get some sleep.”
“Sí,” I said, and sprawled out on the rear seat. I closed my eyes, not realizing just how exhausted I was from the tension. In moments, I was asleep. I woke up when I heard Jesse say we were approaching the airport parking lot.
“From here we’ll take the shuttle bus,” he told me when I sat up, grinding sleep out of my eyes.
After we parked and while we were waiting for the shuttle bus, I felt as if we had become three shadows. They were tired themselves. None of us said much. Finally, the bus arrived, and we rode to the terminal. Edward gave me my airline ticket, and we went through the process of checking in for our flight. We didn’t have to wait too long before boarding, but I almost fell asleep again in the chair by the gate.
When we entered the plane and took our seats, I felt a new cold rush of fear wash over me. We were really going. There was no turning back now. Edward squeezed my hand gently to reassure me. I didn’t imagine I was doing a good job of hiding my anxiety. I kept looking at the airplane door, expecting policemen to come charging aboard at any moment to take the three of us off in handcuffs. But the door was closed, and the pilot addressed the passengers. We felt the plane move back out of its docking, and moments later we were rolling along, heading for takeoff. I gripped the armrests and closed my eyes as the plane lifted. I tried to concentrate on images of Ignacio.
“Take another short nap,” Edward whispered. He closed his eyes himself. Jesse was already asleep. I nodded and did exactly that.
I slept until the flight attendant announced that we were preparing for our descent to the airport in Mexico City. There was just enough time for me to go to the washroom and soak my face in cold water. I returned to my seat and saw the excitement on both Edward’s and Jesse’s faces.
“Welcome to Mexico,” Edward kidded when the wheels of the plane touched down.
We hurried off the plane when the doors were opened. Like me, they had brought only carry-ons, so we didn’t have to go to the baggage carousels. We went directly to the rental-car desk, where Edward and Jesse finished the paperwork. Another shuttle bus took us to the lot, and we found our car. They had rented a nice-size SUV.
It was somewhat hazy when we set out from the airport, but as we went west, the sky cleared. Seeing the campesinos walking along to their work on the larger farms, the women and children walking along, some with donkeys, some pulling little wagons filled with vegetables to sell in the markets, passing cantinas, open markets, and villages with squares built in front of their churches, just as in my village, drew me back through time until I felt as if I had never left. It took only minutes to remind me how much I loved my country and, despite its hardships, my life with my family in our poor village. I couldn’t look at everything enough, and looking at it all quickly brought tears to my eyes.
Jesse and Edward were full of questions about everything.
“What exactly is a campesino?” Jesse asked.
“Rural people who have a little land but not enough to provide for themselves and their families. They have to work on the bigger farms, but they still take pride in what they own,” I quickly added, “even though people back in the U.S. would laugh at what they own.”
“I guess owning a car is a big thing out here,” Edward noted.
“They don’t go very far from their work and their casas. In the village, they find their entertainment, their religion, their schools.”
Little children waved at us as we drove by, and Jesse waved back.
“They act surprised at seeing us. This isn’t exactly tourist territory, is it?” Edward asked.
“No. You will not find English spoken at all in some places.”
“I never fully appreciated the enormous changes you’ve had in your life until now,” he said.
“Sí,” I said, unable not to sound sad.
“You’ve done very well, Delia,” Jesse immediately told me. “You should be proud of yourself.”
I smiled at him and said, “Gracias.”
Everyone was hungry, so we stopped at a roadside cantina and had some soft tacos and beans. They both drank bottles of Mexican beer, and then we continued on. The going became slower as the roads narrowed and turned into broken macadam, gravel, and just dirt in places. Edward was glad they had decided to rent an SUV and not some fancy automobile. The newer road construction was uneven. At times, we would ride for miles on good roads and then turn onto the older, broken ones.
Finally, I began to recognize the area just outside my village. I sat up with renewed energy and excitement. I was truly coming home, and even though neither my parents nor mi abuela Anabela were alive, I looked forward to going to our casa and walking the same streets. Of course, I would get to the cemetery as soon as possible.
“Is this it?” Edward asked as we approached.
“Sí. Es todo. This is all of it,” I said, smiling.