The One Way (Changes Book 1)

by Ted Persinger

  “I’m going to find her, Jim. Part of her is there. In Sac, all I see is her dark shadow. I watched her die there. I watched life slip from her.” Emotion choked him. “Part of her life is in Mexico. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it’s true.”

  “Danny, she’s gone. There’s no part of her in Mexico.”

  “You don’t understand, Jim. Part of her is there. I feel I will find something of her there. I don’t know what.”

  “Danny, seriously. How can you possibly believe you’ll find any part of her there? Think about it. It makes no sense.”

  “Yes, I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel it.”

  “Danny…Jesus…”

  “Jim, look. You have to trust me on this. I feel compelled to go there. I’m compelled to get into Mexico. If only to humor me, you gotta support me, okay?”

  “I’m trying Danny. But I have to worry about you. I’m your brother.”

  “I know, Jim. I know. But I have to get down there. Maybe it’s part of my penance for her death, but I gotta get there.” He had let it slip.

  “Danny, you keep blaming yourself. People die. But you didn’t kill her, Danny. You didn’t. You have no penance to pay. It sucks that she was so young, and that you both had been so happy. We all miss her. She was one in a million. But you can find happiness with your family and friends. Someday you’ll love again, Danny.”

  “Jim, don’t say that. I’ll never love anybody again.” And then it came out, all the way out, “I’d just kill them the way I killed her. She died and I killed her. I don’t want to do that to anybody else.”

  “What the fuck, Danny. You didn’t kill her. Why do you keep blaming yourself? She was murdered, but not by you. You didn’t kill your wife, Danny. You loved her and made her happy. She once told me that you were the only happiness she had ever had. How the fuck can you…”

  “You don’t know, Jim…you don’t know…I’m sorry…I can’t talk…I gotta go…sorry I called you.”

  “Danny, don’t you hang up…” but it was too late. The phone was down. He knew his brother, so he waited a few seconds and took the phone off the hook. He listened for the bleating, then stuck the phone under the pillow. After a while, the muffled discord stopped. He then shut off his cellphone. He now could not be reached. It was better that way.

  He loved his brother, and he knew he meant well. He knew. But his brother didn’t know what had happened. He was a coward, and never told his brother what he had done. Meghan Bozeman had known. Her accusing look told him everything. Maybe the whole Bozeman family knew. After she died, none of them contacted him. Ever. They didn’t call him. They didn’t write. No emails. Though they flew out for the funeral, they didn’t visit him. Nobody dropped by with a plate of food, or with a kind word. Nobody even came to ask for her things. Distance. Like warring camps. He hadn’t heard so much as a peep out of the entire family.

  He had sat alone in the office of the funeral director. A hot, musty room in the back of the Evergreen Forest Memorial Funeral Home. He had wondered at the irony of the name “Evergreen Forest” for a home that deals in death. Their customers would never be green again. Perhaps they should call it Aurulent Forest. Jaundiced Valley. Rictus Mountain. Desolation Hills.

  He felt nauseated there. The funeral director, a balding, paunchy man in his 50s, had made it easy for him. He had produced a large picture book that had all the features of a funeral. Coffin. Clothing. Flowers. Headstone. Priest or pastor rental. Swatches of material let him feel and select the lining of the casket. Melissa’s rotting carcass would be surrounded by the finest satin, while each turned to dust through the years. Danny had simply pointed to the things he liked. With each point, Paunchy would scribble down his choices on an invoice, along with the price. After he chose everything he wanted, a few clicks on the calculator and then Danny handed over his MasterCard. Funeral planned in twenty minutes.

  Nobody from Melissa’s family was there. None of them came to help him choose the headstone, or the casket, or the dress she would wear. He chose the epitaph for her headstone:

  Melissa Ann Bozeman Shields

  January 28, 1982 – May 22, 2009

  Beloved wife, daughter, and friend

  Loved and missed by all

  For her to be buried in, he chose her amber dress, as she had said it made her look skinny. That had become increasingly important to her as she moved into her later twenties and softened a bit. She had only worn it once…to his office Christmas Party just months before. She had looked so amazing in it. She was so proud of how she looked that night, and he was so proud to be with her. That was how he wanted to remember her.

  Jim called Melissa’s family to invite them to the funeral. They never asked.

  The first and last time he saw Melissa’s family after her death was at the funeral. There was a valley between them now. They knew. They had to. They knew what he had done. Meghan had accused him with her eyes, but the others accused him with their distance. None of them so much as said a word to him. They knew. No calls. No visits. Nothing. They knew.

  PART II: MEXICO

  VIII

  The Lyon Hotel sits just off the Avenida Revolución, the main tourist strip in Tijuana. The border crossing had been quick; it was always easy to go into Mexico. He had found the hotel simply looking for a place to stop. He then found parking on the side and entered with his bags. He knew the fifty dollars per day they asked for was far too much, but he paid it anyway. He was glad to get out of the heat.

  The room was drab and dusty. Furniture was twenty years old or better. TV only showed soccer and Spanish-language soap operas. The heat had drained him a bit, so he napped. He felt like he had come so far, but it had only taken an hour to get there from when he left the Best Western. Really, it was just the act of forcing himself into a new environment, a new condition. He had delivered himself to a new life, without yet realizing it.

  When he awoke, it was already the afternoon. He was hungry and thirsty. Outside, he could hear the whistles and shouts of the hawkers trying to pull tourists into their restaurants and bars. He thought they’d be better served offering a quiet meal instead of one with blasting music and deafening noise.

  He went into the bathroom and opened his shaving kit. Inside, he had a plastic bag. Out of it he pulled a comb, a brush, a scratched golden bracelet, a watch, and a wedding ring. He looked at them. He regarded their presence in her life. He held the brush to his nose and smelled. He could just catch the faint odor of her hair and scalp. He picked up the ring, and held it in his hand. He looked at how the bathroom light lit the diamond. He held the gold bracelet in his hand, palm up, inspecting it. She had worn that bracelet nearly every day, since the day her father gave it to her. The engraving of ‘Melissa’ was still very clear, but it was surrounded by nicks and scrapes. The gold was a bit dull now, but still pretty.

  He thought about each of these items. He could remember Melissa brushing her hair, watching her strokes in the mirror. He remembered her fishing in her purse to find her comb. Her hair caused her consternation, as her curls were uncontrollable. He loved to watch her comb and brush it. While she loathed her tangle of curls, he had always loved them.

  He remembered how her eyes gushed tears when he put the ring on her finger. “Yes, Danny…yes, I’ll marry you!” she had said, and she hugged him and kissed him before he could even stand up from kneeling. The diamond cost more than he could afford, but he wanted her to have something she would cherish. Later, when she found out how much it cost, she told him, “You didn’t need to spend so much on me, Danny. I’m not that kind of girl.” Yet, he also noticed how proud she was when she showed it to her girlfriends. He felt it was a good choice.

  He remembered how her bracelet once left a knot on his forehead. They had fallen asleep on a rainy fall Saturday. She had rolled over and her bracelet hit him right between his eyebrows. After that, she would always take the bracelet off when she slept.

  All of these items were pa
rt of her. They were on her. She loved these items. She loved how the brush felt, and would never buy a replacement. The comb fit perfectly in her purse. All of these things were important to her. He could feel Melissa through these items.

  He put the items back in the plastic, one by one. He found the room safe, and put the plastic bag inside, along with his passport and credit cards.

  A quick peek at the side street showed him his car was unmolested. He walked down the avenue, avoiding the hawkers blowing whistles, which was difficult, at best. He stopped at Ceci’s, a quiet, nondescript place. After a quick but oily meal, he started walking again.

  He wandered up and down the street. Every hawker yelled at him. Smiling men asked if he wanted to see a donkey show. Men and women tried to sell him leather goods, ceramics, tequila with a worm, and someone even asked if he wanted to have sex with his sister. This was a side of Mexico he hadn’t seen before. He wondered at the zebra-painted donkeys, and the tourists taking poor-quality Polaroids with them.

  Finally, he surrendered, and entered a bar named Obsession. He knew it was a topless bar, but went in anyway. He was sweating from the heat and the walking. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and images and anger. He felt he could use a few drinks. It was just getting dark, so he planned a quick drink or two, a light meal, then back to his room.

  Bar-type stools lined the three different stages. Men sat on these stools sipping drinks and looking at the topless girls. He looked for one without anybody sitting near; he wanted to be alone in his thoughts in a Tijuana strip club. He appreciated that irony. The girl above him danced for his attention, but he was not there.

  He hadn’t noticed a man sit at the stool next to him.

  “She a hot girl, yeah?” he asked. Danny only nodded, and sipped his Cuba Libre. “You want private dance, amigo?” Danny shook his head. “Why not? She’s a hot girl!” He didn’t say anything. Soon the man left his side. “I’m Miguel. If you need anything, just let me know,” and he walked away.

  As a succession of girls took her place, Danny sat and drank. He lost count of his drinks. As the club began to fill, he found himself next to another American. Despite going out of his way to show his lack of desire to talk, the man struck up a conversation with him.

  “Hey man, do you know what a girl like that costs for a night?” the man asked him. Danny could smell the cheap tequila on his breath.

  “No. First time,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “This is my first time here.” He had to raise his voice above the music.

  “Oh sorry, man.”

  “No problem,” though it was.

  He was disappointed when the man offered him his hand. “My name’s Lee…Lee Pearce. I’m from Ohio.” Danny took his offered hand and shook it with little enthusiasm. “What’s your name?” Lee asked, surprised Danny hadn’t given him his name.

  “I’m Danny Shields…from Sacramento…” he said, wishing he wasn’t in the conversation he knew he was already having.

  “Hi, Danny. I’ve never been to Sacramento. What’s it like?”

  “Well, it used to be a shit-kicker town. Farms mostly, but pretty big now,” he said, repeating things he had always said, with no intention of sharing more than he needed to.

  “I’m from Cleveland, so it’s probably more ‘cos-mo-po-li-tan’ than where I’m from.” He had said the word syllabically, to be sure he said it correctly. He was proud of that word. He pumped finger quotes as he used it.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been to Cleveland. At least you have a football team there.” Danny was trying to keep it light and friendly, but was also wondering how to extricate himself quickly.

  “Well, if you call the Browns a team then you are very generous.” Lee waited for a second, assuming Danny would find that hilarious, and was surprised when he only got a soft smile in response.

  Lee could see the impatience within Danny, and saw him looking over his shoulder. He misinterpreted it.

  “Are you waiting for someone, man?”

  “No, why?”

  “You keep looking at the door.”

  Danny lied, “Oh, sorry…I just can’t believe how many people have come in here over the last hour. I was watching to see how many more people come and go.”

  “Oh cool. Hey, do you see that mirrored wall? The one behind us?” Both men turned their heads.

  “Yeah,” Danny said. “Is that security?”

  “No, those are the VIP rooms. You can take a girl in there and get a private dance. I’m thinking about taking this girl here up to one. What do you think?”

  For the first time, Danny looked up at the girl. She was a striking girl. In the dim light, she looked very beautiful. Smooth skin. Dark eyes. Long hair. Her breasts were a bit soft, but not bad.

  “She’s a beautiful girl. You should go for it.”

  “Okay, sounds like a plan. Do you want to join me?”

  Danny had to think quickly. “Nah, man, I’m looking for a particular type of girl, if you know what I mean. Go have fun!”

  He was immensely relieved when Lee motioned Miguel over. After a quick conversation, the girl stepped down from the stage, and Danny watched the three of them head to the VIP Room. When they entered, the light from the hallway illuminated the room, and he could see a couch, a pole, and a small table. They talked for a bit, then the door was shut, and he could again see the reflection of the dancers on the stage.

  He looked back when a set of high heels was inches from his drink. He looked up and saw a very tall girl standing above him. Perhaps it was the heels, but she seemed gigantic, towering over him. Perhaps it was the angle, being at stage level.

  With quick looks back now and then to the VIP area, Danny saw the place was now packed with people. Another man sat next to him, this time a Mexican farmer, from his appearance. He was very swarthy, and wore a sweat-stained hat. The man smiled at him, and Danny smiled back.

  He again looked up at the girl dancing above him. Though he was feeling giddy from the rum, he suddenly noticed a seam in the girl’s bikini bottom that looked odd. She was very small breasted. As he looked, his head began to swim a bit…definitely the alcohol. But his mind also began putting things together. The girls dancing above him didn’t look “right” all of a sudden.

  As he continued to stare at the girl, he saw that she was wearing a harness in her bikini bottom, and that this harness was pulling her penis underneath her crotch, creating a ridge. In disbelief, he looked at the other tables, quickly trying to sober up. He saw that the other girls on the other tables, though helped by the dim lighting, had broader shoulders than most women. Their hands were larger. Their feet were larger. Though shaved closely, he could see razor stubble on some of their cheeks.

  He quickly paid his tab, and was back out on the street. The street was alive with sound, music, laughter. People lined the streets: hawkers, hookers, street toughs. He checked his watch; it was almost midnight. He was a bit drunker than he had thought; his balance was imprecise. It took him a second to get his bearings. A woman perched on dizzying heels approached him, heels clicking on the street, but he quickly pushed past her. “Fuck you, gringo” she yelled at him.

  He wended his way through the dizzying crowd. He walked for what seemed like ages, and realized he was not where he thought he was. He had to ask a hawker for directions. “Five dollars” the hawker demanded. He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, and the hawker pointed him back to where he had just come from. He paid him, and moved on, again fighting his way through the crowd. He bumped into a large German and knocked his beer out of his hands. “What da fuck, man?” the German demanded, bowing up his chest as if to throw punches. Danny pulled $20 out of his pocket, said “Sorry” and handed him the bill, much to the German’s disbelief. He was had a flop-sweat going now, and was out of breath. Thankfully, he saw the Lyon on his left up ahead. Through the door, he welcomed the coolness of the air conditioning. He knew he looked frantic and pale. The girl behind th
e counter looked a bit wide-eyed at him, but didn’t say a word. He climbed the stairs to his room, lay on the bed, and immediately fell asleep.

  IX

  He woke in the morning to a crushing hangover. Cold sweats. Nausea. Dry mouth. Headache. He also realized his wallet was missing. What an idiot I am! he thought. I had almost $300 in that wallet. He moved over to the safe, opened it, and was glad to see his passport, ATM and credit cards. He checked through his bags, and everything seemed to be where it should be. A hiccup in his plans, and very frustrating, but he tried to keep it in perspective. He also knew he needed to be more careful when moving through crowds.

  He ordered water, juice, and aspirin from the front desk. A matronly woman brought him some bottled water, some already mixed Tang in a small glass, and generic aspirin. He dumped the Tang, drank the bottled water, and downed the aspirin. The water had a metallic taste to it, but he needed the fluids. He slept a bit longer, then showered. The water pressure was low, but enough to get him clean. He then put on some fresh clothes and went down to the street.

  As he walked along the avenue, he noted that it seemed the exact opposite of last night. Instead of a psychedelic concert, he saw a quiet, peaceful street. People were getting breakfast, taking their kids to school, food shopping, and other suburban necessities. Kids dressed in clean school shirts. People sweeping the street. Cars moving people to places. He found an ATM near a restaurant, got some cash, and ordered some breakfast. With some huevos rancheros in him, he felt immensely better. He found a shop that was open, and he purchased a stiff but sturdy wallet. He put his money in it, then began to walk back to the hotel.

  “Danny! Is that you?” he heard a shout behind him. He turned, and there he saw Lee.