Where the Heart Ends

Two lives connect only through death

It was different than my home. Everyone was always happy. It reminded me of home when we would celebrate Cinco de Mayo. I moved here to Detroit from Mexico City about two months ago. My parents wanted me to have a top rate education so they sent me here to live with my grandmother Rosa. She has been in the states now for twenty years. She moved here after my grandfather Juan Martinez was killed by the gang El Diablo. In English this means The Devil. I wasn’t use to having new shoes and clothes. I always had to share everything I had. My father worked in a tobacco field and my mother was a seamstress so we didn’t have the money to buy new things.

            I can still remember those polished white Nike’s. The aroma of the new leather would make me sick but I smelled them anyway. I refused to take them out of the box until the first day of school so that they wouldn’t get dirty. The school year was already half over and the principal at the high school was having a hard time getting my credits to transfer. Let’s just say my transition was a long drawn out process.

            “Julio hurry up or you’ll be late again” Rosa shouted from the kitchen. I rushed wildly between rooms looking for my new shoes. I knew I had left them by my bed. Where could they be? As I tore through the jungle I called my room I, could hear my grandmothers patience aging.

            “Boy your breakfast is getting cold. What the hells fire could you be doing that has taken you all morning? I swear on your grandfather’s soul Julio, if your polishing your rocket as you call it I’ll beat you back to the border before you have time to zip it up,”

            The fact that my grandmother had even said the words, polishing rocket to me caused my gag reflex to relapse. Holding back my urge to vomit, I simply yelled back with a kind “yes grandma, I’m sorry but I can’t find my new shoes.” An eerie silence came over the hallway and the rapid thunder of my heart started to quicken. “Boy you left those damn things downstairs. Now come eat and pack your lunch before you’re late for school!” Relaxed by the news I quickly ran downstairs where a large platter awaited my hungry fingers. Atop this platter my grandmother had out done herself again with an assortment of scrambled eggs mixed with hearty bacon, summer sausage, peppers, onions, and topped with the golden beauty of cheddar cheese. I ate humbly as my Rosa turned on the T.V. to her favorite news station.

            (Two days earlier in Mexico)

            “Chris we f*****g made it, can you believe it. Two whole weeks of nothing but beautiful Spanish women and all the tequila you could ever want.” Mark was always this hyper. I shook my head to convince him that I was listening. We had saved up all our money from the last two summers so that we could take this vacation when I graduated high school. Our parents were back in Detroit and although they didn’t care if we took this trip, we had to pay for it ourselves. My older brother Mark told my mother that he would take care of me on this trip when really I see myself taking care of him. The day was beautiful, oranges and yellows covered the sky and although it was hot a nice breeze helped keep the sweat from my eyes. We had spent the last three days on the road and the last thing I wanted to do was unpack. We made our way to the hotel where a small scraggily man welcomed us. His name was Marvin so said his name tag and besides the horrific smell that hung over him, he had these oddly colored grease stains covering most of his body. I assumed he wasn’t making much. Mark must have noticed as well and tipped the man with a hundred dollar bill. He later told me that it was insurance our baggage would make it up to the room without a detour. By the time we got to the room, I was ready for a long shower and a nap. Mark decided to start making plans for that night. As I walked into the Aqua colored bathroom, I noticed the walls had been recently painted. The pipes were old and the tile had cracked in several places. A rust coating hung snuggly against the chilled pipes. I could tell from the smell of the water that it wasn’t filtered, but I didn’t care. As the dirt ran smoothly off my chest, I thought of the sunrise and how lucky I was to be here in such a wonderful place.

            “Yo Chris hurry up in there man, I need a shower too” yelled Mark. I finished and made my way into the sleeping area where I was surprised to find an entire bed with clean sheets. My muscles released beneath the cool covers and thoughts of drinking on the beach lifted my spirits. When I awoke, I noticed that Mark was getting into his night attire. He had forgotten to wake me and we were due out front for the cab in five minutes. Good thing I packed my clothes in outfits. I dressed quickly and added a shot of Axe. The heat had settled and the cool breeze from the ocean made the night bearable. We had gotten outside just in time for the cab. We were heading to a club called Veranda, which was on the brochure as one of the best clubs in all of Central America. As we pulled up to the club, we were blinded by the exotic lights illuminating the night sky. Women were everywhere. High heels, mini skirts, bikinis, tank tops, topless, you name it. Mark slapped me on the shoulder threw twenty bucks to the driver and ran into the crowd. My heart was racing. I had been to a club before but this was much better. To my right there was a table set up for body shots and to my left was the dance floor where a sea of bodies grinded against each other. I took a few mental notes and made my way into the crowd.

            It was getting close to midnight and I hadn’t seen Mark in over an hour. I wasn’t worried about him, but he did have most the cash on him. Making my way towards the body shot table, I noticed a group of men with tattoos all over them huddled around someone. At first I paid no attention but when one of the men moved, I saw Mark. One of the men was hitting him repeatedly in the face while the others watched laughing. I rushed over knocking a few people over. By the time I had arrived nothing was left of me but pure anger. I grabbed a bottle off a near by table and drove it into the back of the guys head hitting my brother. He fell numbly upon the floor. Blood ran from his head towards his buddies. They stared at me, breathing heavily and sweating. They said nothing. I watched closely as they started to pace back and fourth throwing their hands into the air. Mark wasn’t moving. In fact as I glared at him, I noticed he wasn’t even breathing. He was dead. His face nothing more than a pile of smeared hamburger. My rage turned against me and I fell to my knees beside him. He looked so innocent lying there motionless. Tears began to form in my eyes and a terrible shaking took over me. Why? I shouted aloud. There was no answer just the heavy breathing against my back. I knew I was in trouble but I didn’t care. As I was lifted from off my feet and dragged outside I thought of home and what my parents would do when they found out. How would they cope with it? And my sister Mary, who would teach her of boys and tell her how beautiful she looked on prom night. Everything happened so quickly. I remember the stomping and the cutting. They had hung me up on a fence and took turns with a bat. My lungs were sore and my head was throbbing, but they didn’t stop. Next they honored me with the razor, introducing me to their culture’s art work. A bit abstract I would have to say but the lack of my tongue made that impossible. To top everything off, when I merely a few minutes from death, they nailed me to an American flag near the ocean and while recording covered me in urine and gasoline. I didn’t care anymore, I wished for death. There was nothing more they could do to me and as the match struck and the flames consumed me I felt at peace.

            “We are reporting today on KMOU that two young American vacationers were found dead today in Mexico City.” My eyes widened as the words hit me. My grandmother seemed numbed by the whole thing as they went into detail as to how the boys were killed. It always sickened her how the gangs in Mexico acted. At first it seemed of no importance to me, at least I thought. When they had mentioned that the boys were from Detroit and attended the same high school that I would be beginning today, I froze. A fear unknown cane over me. How would the kids at the school react when they learned of my home? I decided I would lie and say I came from Texas. 

            “Julio did you see that, those monsters. How dare they disgrace their people by acting like animals! It sickens me Julio. And your mother and father stay in such a place.” I paid no attention to her. I had problems of my own and the nightmares of home hung nowhere as deep as the thought of joining an American High school.

“I got to go grandma I’ll be late remember” I threw my dishes into the sink and made my way down Eighty Second Street. I have walked this path for the last two weeks so I wouldn’t get lost, I would turn down Avery Street and go north for two blocks. Then I would always cut down this alley between Burns records and fable Woodcutting. The alley was dark and some homeless guys were living there but they were nice and never bothered me. When I got into Avery Street I noticed a group of men standing in front of a Best Buy watching the street televisions. The story of the boys was still on and the men looked angry. I tried to walk by with out getting noticed but a tall slender man saw me right as I turned into the alley. I felt Claustrophobic. The mildew covered walls seemed to close in on me. A cat cursed me from the dumpster. A heavy sweat ran down my chin. My legs buckled and I tripped over a rock. I sat there while awhile staring at the hard earth beneath me. Beneath me there was a puddle. Small ripples vibrated across its surface. A figure appeared then amongst the ripples. Its distorted face reminded me of the creatures only found in nightmares. It grinned gaily at me from beneath the ripples. “I asked you a question boy, or is English too complicated for a stupid spick like you?” The humor was gone now. A rage grew in me like I had never felt before. My fists clinched and my nostrils flared. I to my feet ready to meet injustice face to face. I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this. I’ve read of the great Martin Luther King and Malcolm X fighting against the racists of the world. It ended quickly though as I faced my enemy. A group of fists came down upon me. Blackness filled my thoughts. They cursed me, calling me anything their small minds could muster. I listened because my eyes were swollen shut. They spoke of the boys that were killed and how every Mexican they met would suffer for it. They said I did not deserve to be here in America. I would cry if I could but instead I prayed. My Rosa would be heart broken. I knew my time was coming soon. A heavy pressure slowly crushed my face. I thought of the boys and how they must have felt. I knew they wouldn’t want this, or at least I hoped. Who would have known that their death would lead to mine? It’s a strange world and as the pressure finally stopped I knew that this was where the heart ends.                                                                   

 

Author's Note

try to ignore grammar issues.

Reviews

[Hello, Goodbye]

Interesting story for sure, particularly maybe because Im a mexican..

And the narration by first person was no problem for me, I was interested through out..

[Bhumi]

Hi,

This was a wonderful story - I specially liked the ending. However the first person narrative was a little confusing and seemed to distract the reader from the story.

Thank you for sharing this

Bhumi