Chapter 2

“Jesus. Wake up, man. We have to open the bakery.” The voice was Christian’s. And it was Jesus’ turn to help him open. Friday was the busiest day of the week, and it warranted getting up before sunrise and getting a head start on baking. Jesus cracked his eyes tentatively. Yep, not a sign of sunshine.

How is he awake this early?

Reluctantly, Jesus pulled back the covers and pressed his feet to the floor beside his bed. The floor relinquished no warmth to aid his stiff back and legs.

“Put on some coffee, I’ll be over there in a minute,” Jesus said.

Jesus shaved, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. The cold water slapped him awake. Alive and once again human, he made his way to the kitchen and collected a few pieces of fruit, a quarter chicken, and a handful of uncooked rice and beans.

They would cook breakfast at the bakery while preparing for the long day ahead of them.

When Jesus arrived at the bakery, the pot of water hummed on the precipice of boiling. Christian poured two cups and added the coffee while Jesus retrieved a pan to melt butter. He began pulling apart the chicken by hand while Christian carved open an avocado.

“These aren’t ripe yet,” he said, popping out the great round seed and tossing it out into the yard.

“We just got them the day before yesterday,” informed Jesus, not bothering to look up from his task. The fire sputtered and popped like an ornery engine. Christian made thin incisions inside the avocado with an old blade. Jesus cleaned his hands and retrieved a couple of the less stale looking rolls left over from yesterday. He tore one open for Christian, who filled the bread with slices of the rich green fruit.

“Got any milk for the coffee?” Christian asked.

“No, but I can go grab a little,” Jesus said. He left the bakery, avocado roll still in hand. Outside, the birds cawed and frolicked as the sun warmed the budding earth.

“Jesus, glad I found you,” Osito called. The mighty man took him by surprise. He was stealthy for his formidable size.

“Good morning, sir,” Jesus responded politely. Osito demanded respect, but treated even the youngest boys as his equal.

“I have a friend coming to get some goods today. His name is Winston. Make sure he gets everything he needs. He’s already paid for.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And find some more ripe avocados. The ones in the kitchen are hard.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first customer of the day came less than an hour later. Martha, an elderly grandmother of four children from two of her daughters, nine grandchildren, all to the same mother save one, was a regular. All their customers were regulars. It was not very often that a newcomer came to town. Nueva Casa was not yet large enough that Jesus and Christian hadn’t met everyone there was to meet. A couple hours after breakfast, Osito entered the shop and took inventory of the goods.

“You didn’t bake enough flat rolls. There should be two more sheets,” he said after inspecting the kitchen.

“Nobody buys flat rolls. I made an extra two dozen sweet rolls instead,” Christian replied.

“Make another sheet,” Osito said. Turning to Jesus, he said, “When you go out today, buy another bag of flour and butter.”

Osito turned. “I’m going to the school to help Sophia with class. I want you,” he said to Christian, “to mix an extra batch of sweet cake powder for tomorrow. And don’t forget those flat rolls,” And with that, he left Christian and Jesus alone.

“Why is he always such a hardass?” Asked Christian as soon as Osito had left, “I’m getting sick of the tough guy act.”

“I guess that’s just how he is,” Jesus replied, scraping rolls off of a sheet. His tool caught on the burnt edges of a roll and tore through it, ruining the goods. “Here,” Jesus said, tossing Christian half of a torn roll, “Eat this.”

Christian caught the roll and began eating hastily.

“You kids gonna spend all day getting fat, or do you care to serve a paying customer?” It was a short, stocky American peeking over the counter. Shoulder-length blonde hair spilled out from under a black fedora. Cotton sleeves rolled neatly, exposing bronze, blocky forearms.

What a strange looking man, Jesus and Christian both thought, “You’re Winston, I presume,” Said Jesus, remembering what Osito had told him.

“Last time I checked.”

“And when was that?”

“Just this morning,” Winston said, “I always make sure I’m myself before I go out. Otherwise I couldn’t get anything done at all.”

Jesus smiled. “Osito said that you were already paid for.”

“I suppose that is right,” He said, “Tell me, which one of you is Jesus?”

“You know this guy?” Christian asked Jesus.

“No,” Said Jesus, slowly. There was something familiar about the American. Some uncanny recognition, “I’m sorry, have I met you?”

The strange man produced an apple and took a bite out of it. “Did you know a man can outrun a horse over a long enough distance?” He said. Jesus and Christian stared at the character that had appeared in their storefront, “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. Not many people have tried. Men are capable of all sorts of unlikely feats. I once knew a man that broke both of his hands to escape a pair of handcuffs. He was shot and killed about fifteen minutes later, but it was an impressive feat nonetheless.”

“I’m sorry, is there something you want?” Asked Christian, approaching the window to assert himself.

“Three loaves of bread, half a dozen sweet rolls, four muffins, any kind except chocolate, and an apple sweet roll. If you have one that is slightly burnt, or at least crispy, I’ll take that one. Wrap two of the loaves with the sweet rolls and two of the muffins. The rest you can put together, and leave the apple one out,” He said. Jesus and Christian hurried off to complete the order.

“Wait, Jesus, come here,” Winston said. Jesus obliged him and approached the strange man.

Without warning, he held up a large, clunky portable camera. The flashbulb exploded forth, momentarily blinding the bewildered Jesus.

“Just leave the order with Osito. I’ll come pick it up later.” Winston said. He flashed a rich smile and began to walk away.

“What about your apple roll?” Jesus shouted, but if Winston had heard him, he made no indication.

“What the hell was that about?” Asked Christian.

“I don’t know. I’m as dumbfounded as you. Osito said that he would have a friend stop by today. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“You think he’s American?”

“Probably,” Jesus said, shrugging, “Maybe he’s from Europe. Definitely not from here.”

“His Spanish was pretty good for an American.”

“Yeah, it was,” Jesus said.

Christian considered this for a moment and then said, “Here, help me wrap this up.”

Jesus selected six plump avocados from the farmer’s stand. He tested each one for its ripeness, finding ones that had just the right amount of give. The marketplace opened at sunup and didn’t close until well after sundown, although many of the vendors closed earlier in the evening. Jewelry, shirts, candy, shoes, radios, medicine, produce, baked and cooked goods, fish, chicken, both alive and dead, steak, donkeys, only alive, furniture, musical equipment, and even palm readings could be found at the market. Jesus paid the man and turned to search for flour, almost running into a pair of children eating ice cream and walking precariously.

“I don’t understand why Senora wants you to tutor me,” Said Juan, “I read and write just fine,”

“I guess she just wants you to have extra practice,” Jesus said. They passed a mariachi band playing proudly. Jesus flipped a coin into their tray. “She has a lot on her plate, and asked me to help you with English since I know it as well as anybody.”

“What do I need to learn English for? I’m never going to use it,” Juan Said. Jesus ignored the question. A few shops down, a record player began playing a new song, “Love Me Do” by The Beatles.

Neither of them recognized the tune.

“Want to get some churros?” Juan said, eyeing the treats from across the way. Jesus checked the funds Osito had left for him.

“Sure,” He said. They both purchased two and ate them as they walked past more shops. Jesus spotted Rodrigo and one of his brothers as they turned a corner. The brother was looking at a belt.

Rodrigo appeared to be talking to a girl attending the shop. The girl was beautiful, with long black curls, delicate features, and fine clothes.

“We should go a different way,” Said Juan. Jesus considered the notion, and ultimately decided against it. It was unlikely that Rodrigo would try to do something with so many people around. A man appeared seemingly out of nowhere trying to sell them sunglasses, practically shoving them right into Jesus and Juan’s faces. Jesus politely dismissed the man, but Juan was caught in his web. He was already trying on his second pair of glasses, the salesman holding up a mirror.

Good thing he doesn’t have any money, thought Jesus.

Jesus approached the belt shop from behind Rodrigo, watching him flirt and make jokes with the attendant. It seemed that he had her cornered, and she was just playing along as not to appear rude.

“Hey Rodrigo, Andrea is looking for you,” Jesus said. Rodrigo turned, and next thing Jesus knew, he was laid out on the ground. He had been punched in the nose. His eyes were watering and his mind was reeling with surprise. A small circle was forming around him. Juan helped him up to his feet.

“Dude, what happened?” Juan asked, “You’re bleeding,” Jesus touched his face and felt the hot blood trickling out of his nose.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” From somewhere somehow both near and far away, the crowd was asking Jesus if he was ok, but he was still trying to collect his senses. A quick glance around the area revealed that Rodrigo and his companion had fled the scene. The young woman that had been talking to Rodrigo appeared in front of him and pressed a tissue to Jesus’ face.

“Oh my god,” She said, “Why did he do that?”

Despite the pain, Jesus managed to summon a sheepish grin. “What I said must have gotten to him.”

“I suppose it did. You knew him, then?”

“Unfortunately. You couldn’t say that we were friends, though.”

“No, I wouldn’t venture to say so. I think you might really be hurt.”

“Feels like it. You don’t know him, then?” Jesus said.

She shook her head, “No, he was just talking to me. He told me he has a car.”

“Rodrigo has a car?” Asked Juan

“I don’t think so,” Said Jesus, “But that’s not the point. Did you see where he went?”

“No, he must be gone by now. You should sit down for a second. Come here,” She led him to the back of the tent, “I think his friend stole a belt, too.”

“Sounds like him,” Jesus said. She brought him some water.

“Drink this. How are you feeling?”

“I’m going to be fine. I just need a second,” He said. The girl dabbed a cloth on his bloodied nose again.

“Is this your shop?” He asked.

“Me and my fiance,” She replied. His heart sank a little bit.

“Juan, go get the flour and come back here. I’m going to rest for a minute,” Jesus handed him some money and Juan left in search of flour.

“Sit down for a minute and rest. I’m going to go take care of the other customers,” She said.

Jesus sat back and closed his eyes, trying hard not to focus on the pounding pain in the bridge of his nose. He thought of what Winston had said about the man breaking his own hands to escape handcuffs. Why would Rodrigo have been desperate enough to cold clock Jesus in public?

Must have been something I said. But that was a wild move even for Rodrigo. There has to be something else going on.

“It’s broken,” Sophia said. Osito nodded in agreement. This time, Juan had told her the truth about what happened. Jesus knew that he couldn’t play this one off. Even though he was the one hurt, he still felt somehow guilty.

“He got you pretty good, champ,” Osito said, inspecting his nose, “I’m going to have to break it back into place to set it.”

Jesus glanced up at Sophia, as if to say, “You’re going to let him break it again?” But she only nodded knowingly.

“What do you mean, you’re going to break it?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Now, this is going to hurt.”

“Isn’t there another way?” Jesus asked.

“Not if you don’t want your nose to look broken for the rest of your life.” Osito said.

“Well, let’s get it over with.”

“On three. One, two-” He broke it early, on two.

“Shit,” Jesus said, blinking. “I think it hurt more the second time around.”

“Watch your language,” Said Senora.

“There, now it just has to set,” Osito said.

“Thanks Osito.”

“Just one thing,” Osito said.

“What is it?” Jesus asked.

“You forgot the avocados.”