Stranger

by David Bergen

  SHE took what she thought was the correct bus, but then she got off too soon, and she was lost. She sat on a bench at another bus stop and she watched the cars and the people, and each time a bus came by it stopped and the doors opened and people got off and people got on, but she just sat there. She saw that many of the people who rode the buses were poor and it reminded her of home, though these people here did not look at you, nor did anyone say hello. At some point she stood and began to walk. She had the new clothes she wore and she carried her small pack with its extra sweater and she still had the money that she had once again taped to her stomach. She also had Gabriel’s shoe in her pack. And the lunch from Isabella.

  She ate the lunch in a park where some boys were skateboarding. She watched them as she ate and when she was done she drank some water and she licked her fingers and spilled a bit of water onto her hands and cleaned them. She drank some more and then put the cap on the water bottle. The boys were filming each other, bending low to record their performances. They showed no interest in her. She imagined that it would be very easy not to be noticed. She sat for an hour in the sunshine. One of the boys passed by, near to her, and he looked at her and said hello in English and she was so surprised to be addressed that she said nothing.

  The boy passed by again and stopped. Hey, he said.

  She said hello and then she asked in English where the bus station was.

  Downtown, he said. He pointed.

  She looked in that direction.

  ’Bout ten minutes. And then he said, Peace, and he kept moving.

  She stood and began to walk. The sun was hot and she was thirsty and so she drank and she thought of water and heat and she pushed these thoughts away and kept walking. She thought about the boy’s voice and how happily he had said the word “peace.”

  At the bus terminal she stood inside where it was cool and she watched the people. She found an empty spot on a bench and she sat and waited. The signs in the terminal were in Spanish and English and she heard many people speaking her language. An older woman passed by speaking in the accent of her place, where she had come from, and her heart lifted and she wanted to follow the woman, but she was gone. She sat for an hour, watching. She saw where people bought tickets and she saw them climb on the buses, but she was afraid to move forward, and she felt very tired. There were police with guns standing at all the entrances, but this did not surprise her, as she came from a place where a Coca-Cola truck had its own guard with a shotgun. Still, the police here seemed more frightening, and with their dark glasses it was difficult to know if they were looking at you or at something else. She fell asleep and woke when her head fell to her chest. She looked around but nobody was watching her, and so she closed her eyes and slept in little bits, waking to make sure she was safe, and then discovering that she was fine, and sleeping some more.

  She woke and went to the bathroom and peed and then washed her hands and her face and dried herself with a paper towel.

  She turned back into the terminal and saw that the line for the tickets was shorter, and so she walked over and stood behind a large man wearing a cowboy hat. He was eating a hot dog. She smelled it and felt her hunger.

  When it was her turn, the ticket woman looked at her and waited. Íso said nothing.

  Where ya goin’? the woman asked.

  How much for one ticket to Saint Falls?

  Return?

  One way, she said.

  Seventy-nine dollars, the woman said.

  Íso bit her lip and looked around and then asked if the bus to Saint Falls went through Houston.

  Houston’s east. You wanna go north.

  How much is a ticket for Houston?

  Thirteen.

  She thought about this but because the woman seemed impatient she said thank you and she stepped out of the line.

  She didn’t want to lift her shirt in public in order to get at her money, and so she went back to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall and lifted her shirt and tore away at the tape and plastic and slipped out five twenty-dollar bills. Then she sat on the toilet for a long time and she looked at the money, and she counted it, and she held it and counted it again. Finally, she took one of the twenties and put it in her pocket and she took the remaining eighty dollars and slid it back under the tape with her other money and she patted her shirt back down. The lineup was long again, and so she stood and waited and when it was her turn she bought a ticket to Houston.

  The woman handed her the ticket and told her the gate number.

  Íso said thank you. She sat on a bench close to the gate and she ate an apple and she chewed slowly and thought that she might come to regret her decision. Her heart, heavy with doubt and anguish, wanted to go straight north towards her baby, but she knew that there was a mother in Houston who needed to hear about her son. And there was only one person in the world who could give her that news.

  SHE was seated alone and she curled up using the two seats and breathed air that was neither cool nor hot but stale, and she fell asleep at the end of the city and as the road fell out behind them and the coach rocked, she saw in her sleep the life she had left behind, and she saw the boy lift his face and ask her how soon, and she saw the damp rag on the boy’s face and the sand drifting across the mound that was his body.

  It was raining when she arrived but she didn’t mind and she walked in the rain, stopping in bus shelters to take out the map that she had received from a man at the downtown bus station. The man had said about a three-hour walk, straight up Main Street. There were beggars, and that surprised her, but she ignored them, or she crossed the street. And when she saw a large group of boys walking towards her, she crossed back over to the other side of the street. There was the sound of sirens in the air, and there was smoke rising from a distant part of the city, and she saw men running and police cars riding by, sirens screaming. She stepped into the shadow of a building and watched the cars and the running crowds disappear. When it was quieter, she stepped back out into the street. She found crackers wrapped in little packages in a hamburger place, right next to Dollar & Deals. She filled her water bottle and took the crackers and she was eating them as she walked. She took small bites and the crackers melted in her mouth and then she drank a little water to wash everything down, and then took another small bite.

  She arrived at what she thought might be the mother’s place. The number was right, and the street was right, but she didn’t trust herself and so she stood and watched the apartment block, which was five storeys high. There were broken windows and there was laundry hanging from balconies, and she saw a man and a woman arguing on one of the balconies. And then they went inside. It was no longer raining and there was a large area in front of the apartment block where children were playing. They spoke Spanish, all of them. She watched from a distance and then approached a young boy and asked if Señora Beatrice Aberquero lived there.

  Yes. Number 333. He pointed, and ran off.

  She entered the lobby and climbed the stairs and knocked on number 333. She held Gabriel’s shoe. Her hands were shaking. The woman who answered was young. She wore a yellow skirt and a yellow shirt with her name, Beatrice, on it. She was barefoot. She looked at Íso and she looked at the shoe and she must have known because she made a sharp sound in her throat.

  Íso looked down. My name’s Íso Perdido, she said. It’s your son.

  The mother took the shoe. Gabriel, she said.

  Yes, Íso said.

  Where is he?

  Íso shook her head. He’s gone, she said.

  The mother said the son’s name again and she turned and went inside and the door was still open and Íso could hear her inside and it was as if she was talking to someone.

  She waited. She could smell something cooking. She stepped inside and closed the door. The mother was sitting at the table, alone, the shoe before her. She looked up and motioned for Íso to sit down. Please.

  She did.

  You’re hungry, the mother said. And
thirsty.

  Yes.

  I have a lot. Please.

  The mother stood and placed the shoe on her chair. She took a bowl from the cabinet and she ladled food into the bowl and she placed it before Íso. It was stew, or soup, and it smelled of meat and tomatoes and beans.

  Please, the mother said, and placed a bottle of hot sauce and a tortilla before her.

  She ate a full bowl while the mother stood and watched, and then she took another.

  When she was finished eating, the mother picked up her bowl and cleaned it in the sink, and then she turned and asked about her son. Tell me, she said.

  Íso lowered her head and told the mother about the boy. Then she said, I’m sorry, señora. And she began to cry. She put her face into her hands, and the noises she made surprised her, but she could not stop. The mother sat and touched Íso’s knees with her own, but she herself did not cry. She waited until Íso had finished and then she said that there was nothing to be done, that Íso had done everything possible.

  And then she whispered that Íso was welcome to stay for the night. Stay, she said. This is my home. You are welcome.

  7.

  SHE STAYED A WEEK WITH BEATRICE, GATHERING STRENGTH, and during that time, when Beatrice was at work, she went out and investigated, and she discovered a nearby library where she could sit in a comfortable chair and watch the people come and go. There were many regulars who looked poor, and who seemed to think that the library was their living room. They played chess and they sat in groups and talked, and very few of them were interested in the books. Returning home in the afternoon, she usually stopped and bought groceries, and then made supper. Beatrice was very pleased, and so they sat in the evenings and shared the meals and talked. On her second-last day, she set about to make a special dinner for Beatrice. She fried chicken legs in oil and she baked beets in the oven and she opened a tin of corn and fried that in a pan with red peppers, sprinkling it with chilies. As they ate, Beatrice wanted to hear again about Gabriel, what he was like, and so Íso repeated what she had already said, that Gabriel was a beautiful boy who was full of curiosity and energy. He was very strong, Íso said. And she flexed her arms like a body builder. And then Beatrice said, But not strong enough. They were silent for a time, and then Beatrice spoke of Gabriel’s birth, what a fighter he was, and of his father, who still did not know that his son was dead. I cannot, Beatrice said. Not yet. His father has nothing, and I have something, and so we thought that Gabriel’s life would be better here, with me. And so he sent him. He shouldn’t have.

  That night Gabriel came to Íso in a dream and she asked him what it was like to be dead, and he said that he wasn’t dead, he was only gone for a bit, and she woke from this dream and knew that she had to leave.

  The following day, when Beatrice was at work, Íso went to the bus station where she’d first arrived, and she bought a ticket to Saint Falls for the next morning. The ticket was almost one hundred dollars one way, and after paying, she had seven hundred and forty-three dollars remaining in her pocket. That night she told Beatrice that she would be leaving.

  Of course, Beatrice said. It is time.

  I’m sorry, Íso said.

  No, it’s clear.

  In the morning, Beatrice gave her a lunch and a dinner for the bus, and she passed her an envelope and said that it was necessary. You took care of my son, she said. She had not cried up to this point, and now there were tears in her eyes, but she brushed them away. She said that she would go home soon. To her husband. And they would have another child. We do foolish things sometimes, she said. I was foolish.

  Then she touched Íso’s face, and she touched her shoulder, and she hugged her.

  Beatrice had made chicken sandwiches and boiled eggs and there were apples and bananas and carrots. Coconut cake and a chocolate bar. As the bus left the city limits Íso munched on the carrots and watched the landscape slide by and she thought that there was no more beautiful place than her home on the lake.

  She had written her mother a message on one of the computers at the library, and she said that she was safe, and she was living with a woman in Houston for a time, a woman whose son had travelled with her, and that she would be travelling farther north very soon. She said that she would write only if she was having trouble. Having little contact is best. If you don’t hear from me, that means I am safe. And then she wrote, Do not worry. It is all good.

  THE city of Saint Falls and the land around the city was flat, and travelling in by bus she’d seen the Mississippi, and she’d seen large fields the colour of gold and in the fields were machines and trucks and there was a grey dust that rose into the air and obscured the sun. The days were long, and the nights were short, and even though she arrived at nine in the evening, the sun was just setting when she climbed from the bus. She spent the night at the bus station and tried to sleep but a security guard kept waking her. She was told that sleeping wasn’t allowed in the station.

  She left the station and wandered the streets. It was very quiet, and the part of the city she found herself in appeared to have no houses, and the stores and restaurants were all closed. She saw and heard a train at around 1 a.m., and after that there were no more trains. Cars were few. The first time she saw a police car she stepped into the entrance of a building and pressed herself against the wall. The police car passed slowly. She saw the heads of two men inside the car. They didn’t look at her. She kept off the streets then. She found a sheltered place behind the stadium, inside an alcove that led to two large metal doors. It was dark in the alcove and private and she laid out a sweater on the concrete and used her backpack as a pillow and she slept and woke and then slept some more. When she woke in the morning she saw a pair of boots without laces and she saw bare legs and knees and she sat up quickly to discover an abuela standing over her, staring intently as if to figure out her reason for being. The abuela stood beside a shopping cart that was full of plastic bags that in turn were full of emptied and crushed cans. The abuela said, Ya can’t be here. Her voice was quick and whispering and at first Íso didn’t understand her, and then the abuela repeated the words and Íso gathered up her sweater and her backpack and began to move on.

  The guards’ll get ya, she said. Lock ya up.

  When Íso looked back she saw the abuela moving away, pushing at her cart as if it were a large boulder.

  In a fast food restaurant on one of the main streets she used the toilet and washed her hands and face. Other women came and went, and when she had a moment alone she brushed her teeth quickly and rinsed her mouth. She bought a coffee and an egg sandwich and ate it sitting at a booth near the back of the restaurant. There was very little Spanish spoken here. She’d noticed that already on the bus riding north. The closer they got to Saint Falls, the more English she heard. She wondered what colour of hair the baby had. At birth her hair had been dark and her eyes had been black, but Íso knew that colours could change as a baby grew, especially the eyes. She wondered what name the doctor had given the girl. Her mother had wanted her to name the girl, but Íso said that there was no point in naming a child she couldn’t hold or speak to.

  She finished her sandwich and held her coffee cup in both hands. It would be a warm day, it had already felt warm when she woke. She had an address, and she planned to find a map of the city, and she planned to locate the house where the doctor and his wife lived with her baby. Beyond that, she had no plans. She returned to the bathroom and used it once again, and then washed her face once more, and she looked at herself in the mirror and thought that she was okay. Her chapped lips had healed, and her eyes were no longer puffy, and she looked normal, though her T-shirt was a little dirty. She went back into the bathroom stall and changed into a clean shirt. She still had the money taped to her abdomen and she thought that now that she had arrived, she might be able to carry the money in her pocket, or her backpack.

  Outside, standing on a street corner, a young woman holding a dog on a leash smiled at her, and Íso took this as a
good sign, and she asked the young woman where she could find a map of the city. The young woman said she wasn’t sure, but maybe one of the hotels had a map to offer and she nodded up the street. The woman walked off. She was wearing sunglasses and so it had been difficult to read what the nod had meant. Íso wandered off in the direction of the nod. She saw the abuela with the shopping cart coming towards her, and so she turned around and walked back and crossed the street at a light and took the opposite side.

  There was no hotel. Not that she could find. She went into a drugstore and asked if they sold maps of the city, and the young girl said that she could buy a map at the bookstore in the mall. She turned away before Íso could ask where the mall was located. She stepped outside. She was surrounded by tall buildings, and she had no sense of where the sun was, and therefore she did not know where she was. Though, even with the sun, she wouldn’t have known where she was.

  She walked. The streets were fuller now with men in suits and carrying briefcases, and women pulling suitcases behind them. The women were dressed in skirts and dresses and they wore high heels. Everyone walked very quickly, with great purpose, and no one spoke or even said hello to the others on the street. She came to the train tracks and she sat on a bench and watched as the trains came and stopped and as people erupted from the doors. Two policemen walked by and when she saw them she opened her backpack and pretended to be looking for something. When they had passed, she stood and walked away from them, and crossed the tracks at the green light, and she came up against a large building that had glass windows and inside the windows there were mannequins wearing beautiful clothes and she thought that this must be the mall.