by ML Banner
They pulled into the dirt parking lot and drove right to the back door, parking a meter away. Lupita was standing outside, waiting for them. Her angry eyes pierced holes through their dusty windshield, staring straight at Miguel.
They exited the car, grabbing their equipment sheepishly, but quickly headed directly towards Lupita.
“You’re late!” Lupita yelled to her second cousin.
6.
Arrival
6:30 P.M.
Tucson, Arizona
Sally first saw her mom and dad on the remote monitor, walking down the concourse towards the waiting area. First ones off the plane, she chortled to herself, while shaking her head in mock disbelief. That’s definitely Mom. She is the Type A of the couple. “Everyone needs a Type A,” her dad would always say in support of his wife whenever someone made a quip about their punctuality or one of her many lists. She was always organized, enough for the both of them. She remembered when her mom readied her for school. Everything had a label: her food, her books, even her dang clothes. It was embarrassing.
As an adult now, she realized how great Mom’s methods were. In fact, she had adopted many of the same habits throughout most of her professional and personal life. Perhaps that was why she was still single.
She thought her last boyfriend might be “the one,” but after a fiery argument and break-up a few weeks ago, she was left to consider once again what she might have done wrong. It always made her mad after a breakup, with each beau essentially wanting her to change her ways to conform to his own lack of flexibility to change his ways. What angered her most was that she was made to feel guilty. Why am I the one who has to change? Was your life so damned perfect?
She was starting to get mad again. This is why she thought a break from work and hanging at the family’s Mexico beach house was a great idea. She was against it at first, what with all the work she had to do and Dylan’s needs. During one of her weekly phone calls with Mom, she relented to the pressure of spending time with her family. Now, the idea felt great and the timing even better with Dylan out of her life.
All week, she had been excited about getting to the beach and spending time with both her mom and dad. Yes, she loved her parents and enjoyed spending time with them. The fact that Dar and Danny were coming later was the icing on the cake, or should she say honey on the sopapillas, since she was headed to Mexico?
There they were coming down the escalator together, holding hands, as always. The consummate couple, one of the many things she loved about them. A large smile formed on her face. Could she really be this excited about seeing her parents? What was she, a freshman in college? Her mom saw her first.
“There she is!” Lisa screamed. “On time, just like I taught her. Honey, we are so glad you decided to join us,” Lisa yelled loudly, as she dismounted the escalator, embracing Sally and blocking the way for all others to pass through the protective gate.
“Come on, you two, you’re not the only people in the airport,” Bill said, while inviting his daughter with his outstretched arms.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said softly, accepting his bear hug.
“You wanna go to Mexico?” Lisa yelled to her daughter and husband.
~~~
“You kept Stanley in great shape, honey,” Bill yelled from the back seat.
“Thanks, Dad. I still remember the day you taught me how to tune up my first car.” Sally yelled back.
“You having problems with the back window?” Bill yelled again.
“I’m waiting for a part from Mike. He says it should come in next week. Sorry it’s so loud back there.”
It was a lot louder than normal in the back of her 1992 Chevy Blazer. Its oversized tires, which were better suited to four-wheeling than highway driving, created a loud vibrating ambient noise that made it hard enough to hear. Additionally, the passenger window, on the driver’s side was open a crack, allowing the 75 MPH air to scream through the narrow gap. He tried to close it but it was cranked as far as it could go. “Sorry, you’ll have to live with that window being slightly open.” Sally yelled after seeing her father attempt in vain to close the window. “I hope you don’t mind.”
He didn’t. In spite of its age and the occasional replacement of parts, like the window crank, he loved this vehicle. He bought it new in 1991; bare bones with no extras. It was his first new vehicle and he bought it to go hunting with his buddies up in Wisconsin. He rebuilt the engine and even changed out the electronic ignition system for a more reliable points system. He liked a car engine he could work on in the field if a problem arose. It served him well for many years, until ten years ago, when he gave it to Sally, who inherited his love for working on vehicles. She babied it more than he had. Besides giving it the name Stanley, the reason why escaped him, she tricked up the suspension and added the tires so that she could off-road around the deserts of Tucson. She even kept their mechanic Mike, who had to be about 70 by now. He had found him for her when he drove Stanley down to Tucson many years ago, so that she would always have someone to look over the vehicle when she didn’t take the time to do so herself.
From the back seat, Bill could see all of Stanley’s outward blemishes; window crank not working, seats starting to crack from years of exposure to the dry desert air, carpet showing its age and stains from the occasional dropped soda can of a passenger, but he knew the bones were in great shape. In other words, it was perfect. Sally made more than enough money to buy a brand new 4X4, but Stanley was a known commodity, they knew was dependable and it held sentimental value. She was proud of it and its connection to her father. He smiled at these thoughts and was surprised to see that Sally was smiling back at him through the rearview mirror, perhaps having the same thoughts.
“Are you sure Stanley is safe all the way to Mexico?” Lisa spoke up from the front passenger seat, barely audible, but intruding somewhat on their shared moment.
“Mommm,” she exaggerated with all the drama she did when she was just a child. “You know how well I keep up with Stanley’s care. Besides, I drove him down in January with Stephanie. Remember?” Sally responded defensively.
“Yes… ust …ot ...re why you don’t buy some--g …this century that gets more than 10 miles to t—g--n,” Lisa continuing her new car argument, as she did every time she rode in Stanley. Bill was straining to hear the conversation, even though he’d heard this many times before. Lisa obviously didn’t feel safe in an older vehicle. She didn’t understand the emotional connection Bill and Sally had for this vehicle. Besides, if there was a problem, they were much more likely to be able to get parts in Mexico for Stanley than for some of the newer vehicles.
“It’s sixteen miles to the gallon. I thought you and Dad liked Stanley.”
“We do,” Bill interrupted. “You know your mom. She just worries about the “what ifs” especially when driving to Mexico.”
Less than three hours after pulling out from the airport, Sally slowed down and pulled them into the Indian casino parking lot in Why, Arizona, as always for a potty stop and so Bill and Sally could switch places. Sally didn’t care for the Mexico leg, even though she’d done it probably 20 times over the years. Mostly, she didn’t like driving at night after almost losing control, swerving to avoid a cow in the road some years back. It was long past sunset, and this moonless night was dark.
Less than a mile down the road, they rested at the stop sign at the T in the road. Bill turned and posed a rhetorical question that was obvious to his family, “You know what time it is?” He held out his hand. Sally, on cue, reached from the back seat, across her mom to the glove box and pulled out what she knew would be there, a much worn CD case. She opened it and handed him the CD. He inserted it into the player Sally added a few years back and put the Blazer into gear. He steered them South on Highway 85 towards Lukeville, Arizona, the border town to Sonoyta, Mexico.
The familiar beat started, with its guitars, steel drums, and then harmonica.
“Nibblin on sponge cake. Watching t
he sun bake,” all three sang out in happy unison, continuing the tradition, they started so many years ago. Always at this turn, when they were really headed towards Mexico, even though it was still 25 miles to the border, and 89 to Rocky Point, they would start singing Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville.
“Wastin away again in Margaritaville. Searching for my lost jigger of salt. Salt. Salt. Salt.”
Sally leaned back while mouthing the words that she knew by heart.
She opened her purse, anxious to take advantage of the last of her US cell service. She pulled out her iPhone and typed out a text message to her sister, “We’re singing Mville now. Will b xing border soon. CU and D next week on beach. Pls email after this. Kisses.”
She didn’t realize it until later, but this was the last text message she would ever send her sister.
~~~
After passing through the military checkpoint around eleven, they headed East on highway 37 about 6 miles to a turn-off down a hard-packed, sandy road for a couple of miles to a development called, Playa Dorado and their beach home.
Puerto Penasco, now known as Rocky Point or RP to the Americans, who resided or vacationed there, was a small fishing village a couple of dozen years ago. Because of its proximity to Tucson and Phoenix, land-locked desert dwellers flocked to Rock Point for two reasons, which made it unique and greatly desired: an ocean and beaches. In fact, the miles of sandy beaches, the Sea of Cortez’s warm waters, between Baja California and the western inlet of Mexico, and warmer still, the Mexican people were a big draw for Americans. Infamously, Al Capone favored RP for the same reasons. That and its foreign port to smuggle liquor through Arizona was appealing to him. Afterwards, mostly vagabonds, partiers, or anglers from Arizona or California, were its frequent visitors, until the 1990s when Mexican law changed, making it easier for foreign investment, especially in beach towns like RP. Then the building boom came, adding thousands of resort units and beach homes, drawing Americans from Arizona and California who wanted to buy into a paradise that was only a short drive away.
Bill and Lisa King had been coming to RP since their college days at the University of Arizona in Tucson, only four hours away. When they were dating, they would come down with friends and party on a stretch of beach known as Sandy Beach; now home to over one thousand condo units, and further north, a new homeport for cruise ships, recently built by the Mexican government. Even when they moved to Chicago for Bill’s job and later his current business, they still traveled to RP, even buying a home there that would one day become their place of retirement. Until then, they and Sally would enjoy it when each was able to, like now.
Like most Julys, they figured that they would be among only the few ‘crazy Americans’ who didn’t care about the heat and wanted to celebrate July 4th on Dorado Beach. Sandy Beach was bloated this time of year with Mexican tourists who flocked from mid-country locations, taking advantage of bargain travel packages sponsored by the condo complexes, whose units were offered for rental. Most Americans didn’t care for the excessive heat during July through August, and often flocked to the cooler temperatures of the mountains or California beaches. However, most Mexicans, who had holidays this time of year, didn’t care, as they would rather experience hot temperatures on the beach than inland. Beach home communities south of downtown RP rarely saw many visitors during the full heat of summer, especially their community of Playa Dorado.
Their beach house was modest by American standards. It was built of excellent materials and had many modern conveniences, but it lacked one thing that would seem so common and essential to most Americans. It was not connected to city electricity. Instead, it was outfitted with the latest solar cells, battery storage units, and a special A/C unit that ran so efficiently that if they were careful with their power, they could actually survive during the summer. With their pool, lots of shaded areas, and the warm ocean waters, they could enjoy their place even in summer. It was for these reasons that the Kings loved their piece of paradise.
Often, when Bill and Lisa came down, their next-door neighbor Max Thompson, as well as some of their other neighbors, would join in their many activities. To afford the Kings privacy, since the beach was always open, Lisa’s rule was, when the curtains are closed, we want privacy. When they are open, it means, come on over. Besides being their neighbor, Max was one of Bill and Lisa’s best friends and certainly their favorite in Mexico. In fact, Max was like one of the family. This feeling carried over to their kids who all called him “Uncle Max.” Max was the one who convinced them to buy in Mexico after renting the house on the other side of him some 20 years ago.
Max also looked after their home, making sure everything worked properly and that workers did what they were supposed to. One summer, he even fought off a couple of drug dealers who tried to occupy the house. He never said how he did it, only that they would never be coming back again to bother the house. Bill knew Max had an in with the local police and maybe even the Federales, but he was always somewhat afraid to ask, honoring his friend’s secrets, of which there were many. With his connections, it was also not surprising that Max knew everything that was going on in Rocky Point.
Max was also a survivalist, but not the camo-wearing, ready to go crazy at any moment kind of survivalist that most of the media envisioned. He was known as a “prepper,” as in someone who prepped for the end of the world or for society’s eventually collapse. Shortly after meeting Max, Bill later understood Max was buying supplies and storing up for the end of the world that he knew was right around the corner. Bill never knew where he kept everything, as his house didn’t look that big. Nevertheless, almost every time they were down, Max had just returned from a trip where he bought 1000 MREs, or some sort of water storage tank, or 1000 batteries in hermetic enclosures. As far as he could tell, Bill was the only one Max shared this information with, including his end of the world theories.
Right after they built their beach house, at a party they hosted, Max shared over margaritas his concern about the coming zombie apocalypse. He heard of a new strain of the SARs virus and was sure it would manifest itself into something far worse than reported, turning every one into brain-eating zombies. Then, a few years ago, it was electro-magnetic-pulse or EMP bursts from nuclear bombs, blowing up in the atmosphere and taking out all electronics, computers, power supplies, etc. Max was so sure of this, he even rebuilt his garage and a couple rooms of the house so that they had something called Faraday cages around them. This would supposedly block out all the nasty effects of an EMP burst. Somehow, Max even convinced Bill to do the same with one of his rooms when Lisa and Bill built an addition to their house, now their garage and office, two years ago. They both reasoned it would be the safe thing to do for their computer equipment, especially for Sally and her needs. At least that was the excuse he remembered using on Lisa to convince her of the need to do this.
Bill was not sure where Max made his money, but he was certain he had a lot of it. Not only was he buying top of the line stuff, he owned the home on the double lot across the street, and he was pretty sure he owned more property elsewhere in Mexico and in the states. Although he couldn’t remember Max actually saying this. Even more of a mystery was Max’s past. Bill knew that he was in the military at some point, as a chaplain, and that he actually saw some combat in Iraq. However, Max never regaled about his military exploits, so he never asked. The only time that Max was ever loose enough with his tongue to reveal some of the disconnected tidbits of info they had collected over the years was when Max drank a margarita or two with the Kings. Then, like one more piece added to a giant colorful puzzle of thousands of pieces, they would understand a little more about their friend. However, this was rare, and as far as Bill knew, Max never drank margaritas anywhere else, or any other alcohol for that matter. Defensively when asked, he professed to love only Bill’s margaritas made in one of those Margaritaville blender/ice shaver machines he had given to Bill as a present on Bill’s 50th birthday.
Only
once or twice, when he was sitting out on the patio or on the beach, did he observe Max drinking a beer, never more, but he never appeared inebriated nor revealed anything new about his past to Bill or Lisa then, and certainly nothing to anyone else Max would converse with. In fact, Max never really spoke to any of their friends about any of his past or anything personal. Whenever asked about something even remotely personal, Max would adeptly pivot the conversation to something else. Once Bill asked about this, and Max simply said, “I’m embarrassed talking about myself.”
It was because of their daughter Sally that Bill loved Max. He always looked after Sally when she came down to the house, treating her as if she were his own daughter. He respected her privacy and even when the curtains were open, he never went over unannounced, except for one happy exception. Once, apparently, Sally was in a very loud and heated argument with her former fiancé Dylan, who thankfully she since broke up with. From Sally’s retelling, Max pretended that he didn’t know she was there and that he came over to drop off cleaning supplies in their absence. Opening up the front door, while knocking loudly, Max came in to find Sally’s fiancé about to make an aggressive move as if to strike her. Acting embarrassed, Max made a point of hugging Sally, and shaking Dylan’s hand so hard that he later claimed it was broken. She drove him back to Tucson that same day. Later, Sally thanked Max for his intervention, and most recently for helping her to realize Dylan was a loser.
Also comforting, Bill knew that if any of the King family found themselves in trouble in Mexico, whether it was with the law, or just paying a bill for the phone or water, which could be complicated sometimes there, Max was always present to help. Whenever any of them heaped praise on their friend, he would say, “If you can’t depend on your family, who can you depend on?”