Riding Invisible (12 page)

No one answered or responded. Tavo asked Mom and Dad if they'd like some coffee, and then he folded my blankets and lifted the table into position, and I knew I should be helping, but coffee? We were having COFFEE? With me completely immobile, like an observer taking mental notes, while Mom and Dad squeezed behind the table, folding their worried-looking hands. When Tavo opened the coffee can, it didn't smell wonderful and nutty and earthy like usual. It smelled like stagnant, rancid, dead things.

My feet planted themselves on the linoleum like a horse who doesn't want to go inside a trailer. “I'm not leaving!”

Dad was on this immediately. “Staying is not an option, son.” And then he turned toward Tavo: “What were you thinking? You've been harboring a runaway, Mr. Mendoza. What you did is illegal, and I should send the cops over here to take you away.”

“Wait a minute!” I shouted. “Tavo saved my life.”

Dad's eyes widened.

Tavo set down the coffeepot so hard I was shocked it didn't break. “Sir, I say truth to you and I pray you listen, because your boy Yancy, he is afraid. He need me for protect him and for protect the horse named Shy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You can't make me go back.”

Dad stared at the floor and then straight at Tavo. Something passed between them. A truce? A bargain? Probably a realization that they were on the same side.

“My son belongs at home with his family,” Dad said.

“Shy and I need protection!” My voice was shaking.

Tavo stepped close and placed his hand on my arm. Suddenly I was seeing my vulnerable world through his eyes. And for the first time, I could see it through my own eyes, too. Not through my parents' perceptions. I could see the way I've always lived. Like when I fell off Shy and landed in the gully, alone and scared with no one around to help. That was how my life with Will had always been.

And Dad's expression, so powerless, almost like he could read my mind. And Mom, looking like her life had split in half with her two sons divided. Separate. Two opposing forces.

“For you to feel safe is exactly what we're after,” Dad said.

And Mom agreed that yes, of course that's what they wanted.

Tavo's face, so sad and knowing, because who could be blamed for this?

And the timing was perfect, oh too perfect, because Guess Who popped the door open? Will's gaze, vast and glittering, darted around and stopped on ME.

“Hey, bro. Whassup?”

Mom rushed to the door, to Will, the other son, and Dad reached over to touch my chin with his thumb. “Get your things, Yance,” he said softly.

I didn't move, and I barely even breathed, and everyone stared, waiting, and it was completely quiet inside the little trailer except for Will, who was inhaling in a powerful way, but that's just me thinking about these details now, putting it all on paper, and I remember what I said next.

“What about Shy?” Good question! VERY good question, because I was gazing through the window and did not see a freakin' horse trailer behind the car…even though the Prius couldn't handle one. “I'm not leaving without my horse.” My words, sucked helplessly toward my hopeful-looking father, then soaring off, like maybe out the door where my mother was hovering over Will.

“I can trailer Shy to you on Saturday,” Tavo mumbled, staring at his bare feet.

“Oh good,” Will said from the doorway. “I
LOVE
Yancy's horse. I've been missing that horse.”

And for a person who might not understand the implications behind his evil mind, Will's sentiments sounded very real and sincere, but to me the words hit hard. They made me remember my new strong voice, and somehow I found it, and the words came out almost like a scream. “That's why I'm not going home! He cut Shy, and I don't want to live with him.”

“You should've come to us about that issue before you ran away,” Dad said. “And now you have my word that he won't do anything like that again. NEVER again. I promise.”

“Like you can change reality,” I mumbled.

“Bro!” Will said. “I swear I'm not gonna torment you or the horse.”

“I hope you mean that,” Dad said, glaring at Will. His voice had this stressed-out, frustrated tone, an extra sting I wasn't used to. And even though my father sounded stern, he sounded really tired, too. Maybe he was tired of the same old shit. Maybe he was all worn out because there was nothing he could do to fix this. Not really. One of his kids ran away because it got so bad. His other kid has a messed-up brain, and that brain probably won't be getting better. Just like Violeta's daughter, maybe Will is stuck inside himself forever.

Those words of Tavo's:
YOUR MAMA AND PAPA, THEY HAVE A MORE BAD LIFE, NO?
Those words were starting to sink in.

So I gathered my junk and stuffed everything in my backpack. Then I opened my wallet where I'd kept my salary and dropped every penny of it, over a hundred bucks, on the table/bed where I'd eaten and slept and drawn and written and talked and grown for the past two weeks—had it only been two weeks? It felt more like a lifetime, and I'd spent it in the company of the best man I'd ever known.

“The money is for your family,” I told Tavo, “and for Violeta's daughter.” My voice echoed inside the small trailer, a quiet empty sound, and I knew I was strong because of him. Of course, Tavo said he could not take my money, but I was already outside and the bills remained on the table.

and when my feet hit the driveway

I wanted to fly

become a cloud picture

live in the sky

float around to choose my own shape

and never come back down

and never come back down

The sound of gravel and leaves crunching under my tennies reminded me of the day I'd arrived on the ranch. Back when I was a runaway. Shit. It would be easy to bolt through the darkness, hide in the hills, and return before dawn to quietly saddle Shy, hop on, and blast out of there. I'd find a new trail, ride through creeks and on pavement, so they couldn't track us. I'd create a different life.

I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Tavo standing in front of the trailer. My guide.

“Go home, son,” he told me. “Everything is gonna be good.”

I didn't move and kept staring at Tavo's image, the glow of moonlight surrounding his solemn form, the only time I'd seen him look completely powerless.

“Go!” he said, his voice breaking.

And while my heart exploded into tiny, aching pieces, we crammed our bodies inside Mom's car. The tires spun on the gravel, and we zoomed down the driveway, and the Triple R became a void. Gone. Erased! Did it ever happen? Because at that point in time, I was just a passenger being delivered to Hell while All That Stuff That Changed Me in Palmdale banged against my chest.

But hey, I've got my journal. I have my REAL thoughts. There were nights on the Triple R when I dreamed about my brother, and I was in this place running and running without going anywhere, and Will was behind me holding a pair of silver scissors raised high, aimed at my back, his expression cold and vindictive. I'd wake up breathing in short spurts, carrying an icy knowledge about the reality of my life. And now I'm home. I have to get past my fear, deal with it, conquer it. I have to find a way to be strong. It's huge, this art of surviving.

Will's here. Will is here!!! How am I going to endure my brother's shit after everything I've learned? Tavo's race horse story jumps into my head, the one about his amigo, the dude who raises horses for the track. One horse was smart and quiet, and he learned real fast. He was a good boy. But the brother horse, the older one, wasn't so smart. He never listened. What a stubborn horse he was. He actually bit his owner on the arm.

So which horse is gonna win the survival race in our family? I guess we'll have to find out.

Friday—2:14 p.m.—at school

I'M STARTING OVER—THIS IS DAY ONE AGAIN inside the famous Adventure Journal.

I'm sitting in my history class, and I don't have much to write about except that I've been looking everywhere for Christi and haven't seen her. I still have this sweet image of Grass and her hips and that belly button ring, too. She lusted after me. Is that not what happened? (Even though she treated me like some kind of worthless Latino loser.) But I guess that kiss made me “a hottie” in her eyes, right? Okay, she was STONED…but still…

Maybe before my sexy self-image fades, I should try it out on Christi.

Friday—11:25 p.m.—home

Gomez was way excited to see me, and of course he got the details in full color about my adventures, loving the parts about Grass, even though she caused My Ruin, making me describe the make-out scene about fifty times. Then he told me how this is the perfect day for me to be back home, because of his brother's birthday party. I should be there tonight, Gomez insisted, because no one else our age was gonna attend, being as his brother Ramón is a senior, which meant that Gomez had absolutely no one to hang with. And the most excellent information was that Gomez's mom and dad are visiting relatives in Mexico.

When Dad dropped me off he wanted to speak to Mr. Gomez to be sure the party would be well supervised, but I said not to worry because Mr. Gomez was in the backyard cooking hot dogs, and for sure he and Mrs. Gomez would keep an eye on us. Dad believed me because I'm Yancy the trustworthy kid, and then he drove away.

Almost immediately, Gomez and I heard how there was going to be a birthday piñata, and we were like, “Whaaaat?? A piñata? Are you eight or eighteen today, Ramón?” And I was imagining a rainbow star-shape or maybe a blue-and-yellow donkey, but now I'm laughing to myself as I write this, and I hope Mom and Dad don't hear me LOL. Anyway, when Ramón's friends brought the piñata from the trunk of someone's car to hang it from a branch, we couldn't believe it. The piñata was not a star or a donkey. It was a penis. Super detailed, and everyone busted up almost rolling on the ground, and the girls were all saying, “Oh, how disgusting!” even though they took turns trying to smash it, too.

So I told Gomez that this could be a rite of passage thing like this male
QUINCEÑERA
event, a new Latino tradition. By the time my turn came up, the balls were almost falling off, so I gave them a powerful whack with a small baseball bat while I was blindfolded. The guys had to wear a pair of ladies' super-size panties for a blindfold, and I couldn't see a thing, although I tried to peek through the lace. And
WHAP!
That sucker split open, and everyone started shouting, “Yancy! Dude! You are the MAN.” It was like I became an important person for about three seconds, which is something new, because in my house Will is the King of Getting Attention and I've always just been Mr. Perfect. The party people scrambled across the grass because the piñata was completely filled with condoms and candy but I didn't bother trying to grab any. There was only enough time for me to drink one beer and eat some chips with guacamole because I had to rush home and get there no later than eleven, so I grabbed an extra beer for the road and disappeared.

Inside our house, when I glided past Will's room, he leaped in front of me and sniffed the air. “Holy shit, li'l bro, you actually need an After Beer Mint!” I kept going and Will yelled, “Dad! Mom! You guys had better check out Mr. Perfect. I think he's starting to get a life.”

And for once I guess maybe Will was right.

Saturday—3:05 p.m.—home

My parents keep warning Will that they'll take away his allowance and his reward-chart progress if he bothers me or goes near my horse. Maybe my brother needs his drug money or beer money so he can self-medicate, because except for the excellent Beer Breath Moment after Ramón's party, he's been staying out of my way. I can do this!

Early in the morning, Tavo pulled up with the horse trailer, and I climbed inside his Magical Music Wagon, and we headed down to Frank's. Shy backed out cautiously, and I caressed his soft black nose, and he said, “Hello, Yancy!” by wiggling his whiskery upper lip on my shoulder, and my yellow sweatshirt got a sloppy hay-colored-horse-snot smudge. God, I've missed those smudges.

When Tavo drove me home he wanted to know how things were going with my brother. I told him so far so good. And who knows? My father believes miracles happen all the time, and maybe he's right. Will might shape up.

A few minutes later we were parked in front of my house, and Tavo glanced at me with that thoughtful way he has of looking at a person, sort of right into the place where their soul hangs out.

“I come here from Veracruz,” he said. “There I pick coffee but get laid off. My friend, he come here with me to the U.S. and bring the wife but just one kid. His other kid, he have to stay in Mexico with Grandma. They cannot afford for two sons to cross the border. They have not enough
DINERO
. This very hard for my friend, decide who stay and who go, but the adults,
THEY CHOOSE
, and one boy stay in Mexico, and the other one come to the United States.”

“What are you saying, Tavo? That my parents have to choose between Will and me?”

“Maybe,” Tavo said. “Maybe one day it come to that.”

And while I'm writing about it, a funny scene just flashed into my mind. If it ever does come to that, I've got the perfect method: