“Few things in life are worth their cost. Stick with the things that are.”
– Jake’s Scribble on a Dirty Napkin
Outer Region of Los Tios, Mexico
Jake sat on the hood of the car, listening to Oasis’ “Wonderwall” as he watched a scorpion scuttle from an overturned rock to a burrow across the unimproved road as the sun rose. It had been a long time since he’d been this far south, and he’d hoped it would be a lot longer before he returned. He stuffed his hand in his pocket, pulling out an old clinic ID badge. He looked it over, turning it about again and again. Holding it left a longing, like the end of a beautiful lie—bittersweet. He used the edges of the ID badge to pick dirt out of his nails before flicking it to the ground.
He lit a cigarette and leaned back, enjoying the drag. The smooth burn always faded too quickly, like every fine moment. He inhaled slowly, ingesting the nicotine and letting the smoke dance about in his lungs before shooting it out his nose in a divided stream. He was grateful for the fact he couldn’t smell well—from what he could pick up, the place smelled like shit.
He slid off the hood of the car, taking the keys and heading inside the bar. He raided the kitchen, snatching a loaf of bread and taking it to the counter top to enjoy his spoils. He grabbed a seat and started chowing down, ignoring the thumping of crutches hitting wood behind him.
“Mornin’,” Lorena said.
Jake nodded, never turning his head.
Lorena continued. “Ya’ gotta help me find Adelais.”
He laughed, choking on his bread as he turned around to face Lorena. He held a finger up, indicating for her to wait as he finished trying to swallow. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and took a sip, helping wash the bread down.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m still kinda sober. You’re gonna have to run that by me again.”
“I’m not kiddin’. Adelais was outta line last night. I know that. But he wasn’t wrong. All a’ this, everything that’s happened—ta’ include Siggy—is because a’ what you started. You’re the one that brought the banditos this far out an’ put us on their map. You owe it to us ta’ help any way ya’ can.”
“Lore, kiddo, I don’t owe you shit. I might owe Estaban, but that’d be between me and him. An’ I got no idea why you think I’d wanna go lookin’ for your roid rage boyfriend anyway. S’pecially after he went and got boot marks on my nice shirt. Sorry, but you got the wrong cousin.”
Perrito appeared behind Lorena, growling at Jake.
“What, that your personal attack dog now? You train it to bark at people ya’ don’t like?”
“Jake, I took you inta’ my home even after all the shit ya’ caused. Yer gonna help, one way or the other.”
“Don’t think so, cuz. What I’m gonna do is find myself a nice quiet place to relax, full of alcohol and fine senoritas, until my sister is done dickin’ around down here. Then I’m gonna get my ass outta dodge, ‘cause I fuckin’ hate this place.”
Jake got up and walked past Lorena on his way to the kitchen. Perrito continued to growl at him, barking as he walked away. Turning about, Jake leaned into the dog’s face, returning the canine’s slobbery snarl. The ambitious hound snapped at him, bathing him in foul dog breath and clipping his nose. In retaliation, Jake punched the dog. Perrito chomped back at him, latching onto his hand. Jake dug around in his pocket for a knife while Lorena pulled Perrito off him, freeing his hand before the dog managed to do any permanent damage. Spitting at it, Jake kicked the dog in its ribs, collapsing it onto the floor.
“Perrito was defending himself! Ya’ had no right!”
“Fuck you and that dog. Hope y’all rot.”
Jake turned around and headed back out the door. He ambled across the street, digging into his pocket with his good hand as he went. He leaned back against the small chantry, lighting up another cigarette as he stared off into the sky.
“This fuckin’ place…it’d look better as a pile of ash.”
He nursed his hand as the nicotine swelled in his blood. Closing his eyes, he lost himself as it coursed through his body on some unknown mission, ravaging his arteries along the way. It was never strong enough to take him, but the little bit it brought him closer to death always made him feel more alive. The moments never lasted long enough.
His eyelids slowly rolled back, reintroducing him into the bullshit world. He fished the keys out of his pocket and headed back to the car, starting it and disappearing into the desert once again.