Primitivo

by Croft, Rose

  One of the men near the driver motioned with his gun for people to get up and file off the bus. As we lined up and walked down the aisle, we dropped the burlap bags in a large sack. We were directed to stand off to the side of the bus and wait. I saw a semi-truck nearby and an old concrete building behind us. Rafael walked up with two other men. He was dressed in a suit, as always, while the other two men had on cowboy hats, plaid shirts, and jeans and boots—like rancheros.

  He scanned the crowd, and I knew he saw us but made no move to come over and talk to us. He said something to one of the rancheros and walked away to a black four-door car with a driver waiting. I glanced up at Mami who looked as though she were about to cry.

  “You and you…” One of the soldiers pointed out some people in our group to step out to the side. My mother was one of them.

  “¿Mami, estás bien?” I asked before she stepped forward. Frightened that she was in trouble.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I have to take care of something, but I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Vicente and me. “Stay quiet. Don’t ask questions and watch over Lilyana and Yovani.”

  She walked away leaving me more puzzled than ever. What was going on?

  One of the soldiers nudged an older couple at the front of the crowd to move in the direction of the back of the semi where a ramp was laid out. Then more people were picked. I kept glancing behind me and swiped the sweat off my forehead wondering where Mami went. Why did they need her?

  We were one of the remaining people who stood at the back of the group. Movement out of the corner of my eye had me turning as my mom stepped out of the building with the other people who’d been called earlier. She walked cautiously with her eyes to the ground as though she was afraid she might trip and fall. Her lips were moving rapidly like they did when she knelt in church. I could tell she was murmuring her chants, and one hand clutched the rosary she always wore.

  “Is everything okay?” Vicente prodded and touched her shoulder when she stood by us.

  “Yes.” She pasted a smile on her face reaching out her hand to fix my brother’s hair like she usually did, but her fingers twitched and her palm shook. Her face was almost as pale as a ghost. Her skin was shiny like it was after she’d been swimming. Wet hair stuck to her forehead. She nodded at the soldier who signaled for us to move. “Let’s go.”

  We were the last to load up in the semi and ordered to sit as close together as possible. As soon as we were pressed together tight, boxes and boxes of canned goods were stacked in the remaining space. The boxes piled high touching the roof. With each box loaded, the sunlight grew dimmer and blackness fell around me again. The loud sound of metal squealing and crashing to a stop made me jump. We were closed in. I felt like I was trapped in a box to die.

  Sofía—Age 13, El Salvador

  Memories were a funny thing. Fleeting moments in your life that could leave a permanent impression in your mind. Like a scar on your knee from being slung down to the ground and landing on a rock. Or a symbol etched into your skin falsely representing who you were. I had several “dents” that would never be fixed. But let me back up to say I had good memories—like when I was six and spent time with my brother, Oscar, outside in our home in El Salvador with our mother.

  “Do you think that volcano will ever blow up?” I asked sitting on the ground staring at the large volcano that seemed so close, but my brother told me it was actually a long way away from us.

  “Volcanoes don’t blow up Sofí, they erupt.” My older brother, Oscar, sucked on a piece of grass. “I don’t know when it will. Sometimes volcanoes can exist for hundreds of years without erupting.”

  I picked a piece of grass and chewed on it like my brother. “How come you know so much?”

  “Because I’m nine and I’m smart, I guess.” He lifted a shoulder.

  My brother was smart. He was the best brother in the world. He always played with me and taught me how to play fútbol. When we walked to school, he never left my side until I was inside the building. Even when some of his friends at school teased me because they said I looked different, he always defended me and threatened to beat them up if they weren’t nice to me.

  Then there were bad memories.

  “Come on, Gatita you need to come with us.” Gatita (kitten) was the name Tío Cesar called me. He took my hand leading me with him. His fingers were red as if he’d dipped them in paint and hadn’t bothered to wash them. His white shirt was spotted in the same red splotches.

  “Where’s Mamá?” I looked behind me at my brother who was following me looking sad and serious.

  “She’s gone.” Oscar laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Gone? I don’t understand?” I’d just seen her this morning before I walked to school with my brother.

  “Don’t worry, Sofía, we’re looking for her, but in the meantime, you and your brother will be staying with us.” Tío Cesar was Papá’s brother. My father was in jail and my uncle always stopped by to check on us. He always made me nervous.

  We followed him outside to his truck where another friend was sitting in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette. He looked and dressed like my uncle in a white T-shirt and jeans and also had a shaved head with tattoos covering his head, neck, and arms.

  “In the back,” Tío said and lifted me into the bed of the truck as my brother climbed over the tailgate. “Sit down and hold on.” He got in the front and started up the engine.

  We bounced around in the back since the roads were very bumpy. Something shiny caught my eye.

  “What is that? Is that a knife?” I asked and pointed to the object laying in the corner by the tailgate that glinted under the sunlight next to a white towel blotted in the same red paint.

  “It’s a machete…”

  “Quit fuckin’ daydreaming, Gatita,” my uncle’s booming voice shook me out of my thoughts. “Traeme otra cerveza. Make yourself useful.” He passed by me on his way through the backdoor of the house and slapped me on the behind. Lately, he’d been touching me a lot, and his hand always seemed to linger a little longer than normal whenever he did.

  I was thirteen, and Oscar and I had lived with our tío for the past seven years.

  My mother had never been found. At first, Tío Cesar allowed Oscar and me to search for her, but we never heard anything. After several months, our uncle hinted around that he suspected Mamá took off with another man and didn’t want us anymore and to give up the search.

  In my heart, I could never accept his reasoning. I lit a candle for her every day and prayed she would show up. Please, Mamá, come back, so we can be a family again. I plead every night.

  Rubbing my eyes, I brought the beer to Tío. He was sitting around outside with his homeboys, smoking cigars and watching a group of men and teens fighting a boy who looked to be my age. Another initiation. It made my stomach queasy to see someone getting hurt over and over. Sometimes the guy would be beaten up so badly I thought he might be dead. However, most kids didn’t care about taking a near-death beating to join ES-22. The promise of making money and being a part of this “family” seemed too alluring to turn down.

  I turned to go back inside, but a hand gripped my thigh. “Where you goin’?”

  I tried to step away, but Tío didn’t let go. His thumb dug into my skin. “You’re a part of us. Members always watch on initiation day.” His hand slowly slid off my thigh only to grab my wrist pointing to the number 22 etched in my skin. “You see that. You belong to us. Remember that.” My uncle made me get this tattoo reminding me I was born into this, and how it was my destiny to be a part of ES-22, a part of Los Malos. All members needed to represent.

  Shouts of encouragement and tough-guy taunting echoed into the orangish/blue sky signaling daylight had finally surrendered. Sadly, it seemed the newest member had too, having been thoroughly pulverized. After the crowd dispersed, I saw my brother and cousin Tito coming toward us. Tito grinned wide and swiped his T-shirt over his head, wiping off the sweat. My brother’s
lips flattened into a straight line and his dark eyes stared straight ahead. He never smiled or joked around like the other guys did after a group beat down. For that matter, Oscar rarely smiled or joked around anymore at all. I could relate. It definitely wasn’t all rainbows and puppy dogs living here.

  “That was fun.” Tito tossed his T-shirt at me, and it was drenched in sweat and splattered with blood. I dropped it quickly and rubbed my hands on my shorts. Repulsed.

  “Get your primo and brother a beer, Sofía.” My uncle pointed to the ground. “And pick up the shirt and wash it.”

  I must’ve stood still a moment too long. Tío Cesar chuckled like an evil villain and rose up slowly, cocking his head. “You hard of hearing?” He pulled my ponytail leading me down to the shirt on the ground. My eyes watered as I thought he was going to rip my hair out. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Pick it up. Now!”

  I was humiliated and could hear the laughing and stupid gibes being thrown out around me. Why was I surprised? Another typical evening in paradise.

  “Stop!” my brother warned gripping Cesar’s forearm preventing him from dragging me to my knees and bent down and snatched up the shirt, balling it and shoving it into Tito’s chest. “Leave her alone.”

  “Aww, ain’t this cute. Big brother defending his sister.” Tío released my ponytail and smoothed back the hair that had fallen around my face. His callused fingers scratched my cheek, and I shifted away. “I’m just teaching her to respect her elders.” He spat on the ground next to Oscar’s shoe and ran his tattooed arm over his mouth. “Just because you’re Jorge’s son and my nephew, don’t think you have the right to make requests. I’m in charge. I make the decisions.”

  Oscar shifted his stance with arms crossed. His hard stare never wavered from Tío’s.

  Tito slung his shirt over his shoulder. “Come on. Stop with the serious shit. You’re killing my buzz.”

  Oscar took my hand and led me inside. As soon as we were alone, he said, “Go to your room and lock the door, Sofí.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not safe for you to be around this… tonight.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. His dark eyes studied my face. Looking at us together, no one would know we were related with his dark hair, deep brown eyes, and tanned skin.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “Look. I only want to keep you safe.” He gripped my shoulders. “Don’t argue. Do this for me, please?”

  “Okay.” I trusted Oscar with my life.

  “Gatita! Where’s my beer?” Tito strolled up shouldering past my brother getting in my space. He had a crooked smile and a scar on his face that began at the corner of his mouth, across his cheek, nearly kissing his ear. It made his face look sinister in a comic book sort of way.

  “Get it yourself, Scar. Sofí’s going to bed.” Tito’s nickname was Scar. Fitting for him, I guess. Everyone had nicknames in ES-22. Usually, the nicknames consisted of cutesy names like baby animals or cartoon characters, which was weird because there was nothing sweet or cute about Los Malos. Regardless, Tito loved his nickname because he always sympathized with Scar from The Lion King. And of course, he had a scar on his face.

  “Pull the stick out of your ass, Basura.” My brother’s nickname was bote de basura (trashcan) because his name was Oscar like the character on Sesame Street. However, people shortened it to basura. Tito looked me up and down. “Your sister’s not a little kid anymore. She should hang out with us and have a little fun.”

  Goose bumps pebbled on my arms although it was hot and humid in the house. I didn’t like how Tito’s eyes followed me around like I was a piece of meat on display. Like his father.

  My brother stepped in and shouldered Tito aside. “What the fuck is with you, Tito? She’s thirteen. You know how these parties get after fighting, drinking, and God knows whatever else everyone’s doing.”

  “You sound like a damn parent. Nothing’s gonna happen. I’ll take care of my girl. Verdad, Gatita.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do, but I could see my brother’s face turning red under his tan skin while he stared at our cousin as though seeing him for the first time. I didn’t want to be around Tío Cesar, especially when he was drunk. Tito was beginning to make me uneasy, too, but I didn’t want Oscar and Tito to fight over this either. They were close and ran together all the time.

  “I’m going to my room.”

  “I’ll take you.” My brother walked with me.

  As soon as we hit the threshold of my small bedroom with barely any space to move around, my brother sat me down on the small twin bed. “Stay here and keep the door locked. I mean it. Don’t open it for anyone.” He lifted my chin. “Even if Tío Cesar’s beating on the door.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Good girl. We’re all we got, Sofí.” He wrapped me in his arms. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m gonna get us out of this. I already have a plan. Trust me.” He released me and walked to the door. “Lock it behind me.”

  I did and plopped down on my bed. When my eyes grew heavy with sleep, a loud boom set off outside my window causing me to nearly fall off the bed in shock. It was soon followed by yells and laughter. Then another blast. Were we being attacked? I shoved the worn curtain aside covering my window to see what was happening. A group of men were huddled around lighting fireworks and cheering when they went off.

  Tito stuck what looked like a mini rocket in a bottle and lit it pointing at another guy standing a few feet away. The guy screamed in panic and fell to the ground before the firework whizzed by him. Tito sounded like a maniac with all the crazy laughing and slapped my brother on the back. For some reason, Oscar glanced behind him, and his eyes met mine. They widened in warning. Get away from the window. I could only imagine him saying.

  I sighed and stepped over to my bed knowing sleep would be hard to come by. I laid back and folded my hands behind my head and dreamed.

  Mamá was stroking my hair like she always did when I sat in her lap. “Why are you smiling?”

  “You make me smile, Sofí, and nothing makes me happier than these moments together.”

  “I love you.” I snuggled against her relishing this time with my mother. Cuddling with my mom was always my favorite pastime.

  “I love you, too.” She stroked my hair, and I closed my eyes listening to her singsong voice as she sang the familiar lullaby that I’d heard every night as far back as I can remember.

  But Mamá’s voice changed. Her voice was deeper. The touch of her hand rougher. Her fingers felt like they were tangled in my hair trying to fight through a knot. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Get up, Sofí.” Wet alcohol laced lips were attacking my face.

  She jerked me down on my back.

  “Stop!” I pushed at her, shocked wondering why this was happening. Why was she hurting me?

  “I want you, Gatita.”

  My eyes flew open, and I saw Tío Cesar’s tattooed teardrops illuminated by the moonlight. He was on top of me. His mouth covered mine. His hand was squeezing one of my breasts. I struggled against him kicking at him. “Get off me!”

  “Don’t fight me. I won’t hurt you. I’m gonna make it real good for you.” He shoved my shirt up and jerked at my bra. “If you’re a good girl and please me, I’ll be your protector, and you don’t have to worry about anyone else messing with you.”

  My body shriveled under his touch as he pinched my nipple. I bucked against him and prayed a hole would open up under the bed and drag me under. I shoved the palm of my hand under his chin and pushed as hard as I could. If I screamed, would anyone hear me or care? My uncle was the king in this insane circus. He ran the show. I still heard loud noises outside indicating the party was still in full action.

  He laughed and head-butted me nearly knocking me out. “You wanna play with me, Gatita? I like fighting. In fact, it makes my dick really hard. Lucky for you I’m in a loving mood.”

  I heard the jangle of a button and zipper of his pants, and his
hand was in the waistband of my shorts. Like a stray cat who was cornered, I made fists and pummeled him blindly trying to get him off me. He lifted his hands to deflect my punches and soon his fingers closed around my wrists between us. I brought my knee up, hard, connecting with his crotch.

  “Fuck!” he groaned and rolled over. “I’m gonna make you pay for that, bitch!”

  “I hate you!” All the torment. All the times he’d touched me inappropriately or manhandled me ran through my mind like a scene from a movie on repeat. I kicked and kicked at him until he fell off the bed.

  I tried to run out the door but a hand clamped around my ankle and he chuckled as he sat up slowly from the floor. “You are feisty aren’t you, Gatita. Just like your mother.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gritted out gripping the edge of the small table by the wall trying to keep my balance. His fingers dug so deep, I thought my bone would snap, but I kicked and yanked my leg trying to free myself. Frantically, I slid my hand over the wood surface trying to grab anything that I could attack him with. My fingers felt the cool smooth surface of a glass, and I quickly circled my fingers around it.

  “She liked to fight me too, at first, but then I guess she couldn’t resist my charm,” Tío rasped and yanked my ankle sending me falling on top off him. I quickly scrambled to sit up and slammed the glass in my hand against the side of his head causing it to shatter. Tío growled, and I took his heavy blow across the face. Stunned, I fell to the floor and felt the sharp point of glass beneath my palm as I struggled to push myself up before he pounced on me.

  Blood drizzled down his cheek and his sinister eyes narrowed into slits. He swiped at his temple in shock while I clutched the glass tight. Then, one hand slid around my throat yanking me upright on his lap. I gasped and raised the broken piece of glass high above my head. The edges were piercing my skin and soon blood oozed down my wrist.