Part 2: Baja Leai & the Road to New York
Jesus dreams of a prison cell; argues with Andrea about Rodrigo; a reflective evening with Justin; Jesus discovers Rodrigo raping Andrea.
The prison cell’s walls were dull white, speckled with bluish grey and brown where the paint had been worn down or chipped off. This place was familiar to Jesus. It was his home. There was a strength in his solitude, a certain knowledge that his unrelenting determination and willpower would turn this incarceration into a greater freedom. A line of sunlight shone through the thin window. illuminating the room. The steady, rhythmic breathing of his bunkmate was calm, almost hypnotic, but Jesus’ mind flew through thoughts and possibilities at an impossible rate.
Flashes of moments and impressions of experiences, spliced together like an abstract film project, cascaded through his head. He needed only to write them down. This place was his home: this place was his prison. He closed his eyes again.
Jesus woke up with an uneasy tension, as if he hadn’t slept at all. His six and a half hours were spent dreaming of vast jungles of steel and glass, and tunnels of concrete and iron. He dreamt of being trapped inside the belly of a horrible beast, and the beast was bleeding to death. He dreamed of flying like a bird through the steel spires and treetops pointing like antennas to heaven. It was strange, but that wasn’t the true cause of his concern. Something was bothering him, something innately terrifying and repulsive, and he was unable to shake the feeling as he prepared for classes and walked with Andrea to Baja Leai University, Andrea was withdrawn, which was normal, but Jesus had the hint that something was on her mind. Maybe she was afflicted by the same placeless bother that had irked Jesus since waking.
“Rodrigo came to Americano’s last night,” She said out of the blue, as if it was something that she needed to confess.
“What the hell is he doing all the way out here?” Jesus asked.
“He said he came out to apologize. He said that he was sorry for what he did back at Nueva Casa, and that he’s not like that anymore.”
“You don’t actually believe him, do you?”
Andrea paused. “I don’t.”
“Jesus Christ, you do,” Jesus said, his exasperation bordering on anger. “Are you serious? Are you actually being serious right now?”
“Look, you don’t know what he said to me. I really think he deserves a second chance.”
“No, I have no idea what he said to you. You should have called the cops. The fact that you are even entertaining the notion of this guy being an astronomical bag of shit. That fucking fact alone is enough to tell me you belong in an institution.”
“I just think that everyone deserves a second chance-” Andrea began before Jesus cut her off.
“He could have killed us! He killed Juan! Can you imagine what kind of psycho decides to burn down an orphanage?”
“Nobody was hurt! It’s not like anyone died.”
“Are you kidding me? It was sheer luck that we made it out of there alive. All of us could have died,” Jesus stopped walking and took a deep breath. Andrea turned to face him. Her face reflected the knowledge of her shameful curiosity that had led her to engage Rodrigo in conversation the night before.
Andrea had spent her Thursday evening fawning over her latest squeeze under the pretense of hanging out with friends from school until he approached her. She would later learn that he had been asking around town about her, and that he learned that she frequented Americano’s on Thursdays and Saturdays, because that’s when Justin played. He had conveniently left out the part where Andrea only went there because Justin was playing. What stopped her in her tracks was his appearance. He wore a dazzling blue blazer over fine, new clothes. His wristwatch was gold-plated. Gone was the strung out desperate criminal. This Rodrigo was thin and handsome, like Andrea had originally fallen for. He bought her a drink and managed to separate her from her friends, and out of the watchful eye of Justin, so that they could be alone. He had fed her the same old lines he always did, and she came running back like they always had. They made plans for the next night.
“The point is that he didn’t intend to hurt anyone,” Andrea said, “If he did, it would be different.”
“No, it wouldn’t be. Rodrigo is a snake, and you know it.”
Andrea didn’t lash out or fight back because, at some level, she knew he was right. Some remote part of her was as disgusted with herself as Jesus was with her. That part, however, was not in control.
“I don’t get it, Andrea. You’re so cold and cynical most of the time. You act like nothing matters to you, but as soon as your dirtbag ex-boyfriend comes around, you’re head over heels.”
“I’m not head-”
“And another thing,” Jesus overrode her, “Weren’t you the one that broke up with him, not the other way around? Remember why you left his dumb ass in the first place. This is a college town.
There’s a million good-looking guys here. Why do you have to go for the one that’s off limits?”
“I don’t know,” Andrea answered honestly, “I guess I just feel like he understands me.”
“Understands you? He tried to kill you!”
“Look, I’m done talking about this. You have your opinion, and I have mine, but it’s my decision. I appreciate your concern, but this is my life, not yours,” Andrea said, then added, “At least I can get some. The only girl you ever had anything with is banging the guy who’s supposed to be here,”
Even as she said it, she regretted it. It was a low blow. Jesus had put her on the defensive.
“You’re such a bitch.”
“You’re an asshole.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way, fuming. She didn’t mention her plans with Rodrigo that night.
The uneasiness he had woken up with compounded with the animosity he felt for Andrea and her decisions, and it was difficult to concentrate during class. Twice, he found himself spaced out, staring at the wall, missing whole sections of his professor’s lecture. Once, he thought he saw Rodrigo in a throng of passing students and faculty. He was standing across the plaza, staring Jesus dead in the eyes. When the students passed, he was gone. Jesus chalked it up to his imagination playing tricks on him again.
The afternoon passed relatively uneventfully. It was summertime, and it seemed like everyone was out playing football or going to the beach. Jesus didn’t do either of those things that day. In fact, Jesus had barely played any football since he’d arrived in Baja Leai, partially because he didn’t have the time between his busy class schedule and coursework and his work in Layla’s garden, but mostly because he had lost the enjoyment in playing the sport. Jesus associated the game with his friends in Nueva Casa, and without them, it just wasn’t the same. To play, he would have to mentally acknowledge and accept what happened, and on that day, he wasn’t ready to do that. Jesus returned home in the afternoon and took a nap before starting his homework. The garden was in good shape, and could go a day or two without being tended to now. He combed through algebraic formulas and a historical text on the indigenous people that had occupied the Baja Peninsula for several hours before finally giving it a rest and walking outside for a breath of fresh air.
The night was warm and humid. A salty Pacific breeze rolled through, battling the heat of the Mexican summer. The night was alive with energy. The sounds of distant voices mixed with small animals and insects buzzing and chirping. There was a charge in the air, like a storm would roll in. Justin was playing slow blues on his guitar, leaning back on a chair on the porch smiling complacently to himself.
Night time eyes
Night time lies
Fly, fly away
From your night time eyes
He sang in a soft, clear voice. Jesus closed the door behind him and breathed in the humid night air, absorbing the moment in its entirety.
“When I lived in Nashville, Tennessee, I knew this chick with a tattoo of a rabbit on her wrist. I think her name was Rebecca. I’m not so sure about the name, but the tattoo I was certain about.
Anyway, this girl was beautiful. I mean one-of-a-kind gorgeous, and not in any sort of derogatory way.
I’d never seen anything like her. She had this presence, this radiating energy that seemed to fill up whatever room she was in. I was smitten, so naturally I started following her around, asking her questions and stuff, asking her out on dates. So we start going out. And boom, before I knew it, I was dating the best woman I had ever met. It was a miracle for a two bit hack like me. I mean, look at my face. A real dream come true, she was way out of my league,” Justin said. He had stopped playing guitar now, and was staring off into the sky. Jesus tried to find what he was looking for, but couldn’t see a thing.
“So me ‘n’ this gal are going steady, but I’m at this after-party without her, and there’s this loose little thing who’s going crazy over me. She’s trashy, she swears and smokes cigarettes and does rude and provocative shit and all that jazz, but for whatever reason, that night, she was just my type. So I sleep with her.”
“Word gets back to my girl of what happened, and she’s pissed. So she gets up and leaves.
Won’t return my phone calls or anything. I never see that girl again,” Justin took out a cigarette, pressed it between his lips, struck a match, and took a drag. He let the smoke roll out slowly, savoring it, and savoring the following few moments before he continued, “The moral of the story is that you’re your own worst enemy, kid. You’ll do it to yourself in the end every time. No one need do it for you. You see me, I had this gem of a girl, and I traded her out for one night with a sewer rat. Don’t do that, kid,” Justin said.
“You said this girl was the best one you’ve ever met, but you can’t even remember her name?”
Jesus said, staring straight forward at the cloudy blackish sky.
“Hey, I told you I thought her name was Rebecca. Could have been Leah, actually. I never said I was a saint.”
“How long were you guys together?”
“Almost two weeks.”
Jesus snorted, “You’re a lost case, man.”
“Never said I wasn’t. Chicks dig the bad boy bit anyway.”
“It certainly appears that way.”
“Speaking of, how’s your friend Alyssa?” Justin said.
“You mean Andrea?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said Alyssa.”
“Andrea, Alyssa, same thing. Point is, how is she? Saw her this morning and she looked pale as a ghost.”
Jesus considered telling Justin about Rodrigo. He decided against it. That was her story to tell.
“She had some creep hit on her at the bar last night. I think it messed with her head.”
“Mmhmm. I think I saw this creep. Real fancy dresser type guy?”
“Yeah, that’s him,”
“I definitely saw him. Thing is, it looked like she went off and sat alone with this guy for a while.
Couldn’t really see that part of the bar.”
“Yeah. He turned out to be a real sleaze. Threw her for a loop.”
“Yeah, I gotcha. Well, I’ll talk to the door guy and let him know to keep an eye out for him.
Hopefully, he won’t be bothering her again.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” Jesus said. The two men remained in silence for some time, simply soaking up the ambient sounds of the night. A cat walked across the street.
“You wanna smoke?” Said Justin.
“Nah, I need to clear my head,” Jesus said, “I think I’m going to take a walk.”
“Alright kid,” Justin said, “Catch you later,” Jesus began meandering down the street, shuffling one foot in front of the other with no particular agenda or destination in mind. The nocturnal atmosphere was tranquil, but did little to quell his steely nerves. There was something inside of him that was wrong, and it was all he could do to try and let the warm air mixing with the sea breeze flush it out of his system.
Jesus reflected on the current state of his life. He had learned a lot about his past. He thought of Winston, the deadbeat father. He wondered what Lupe looked like. She was an addict at the end, but before that, maybe even during, he imagined her as beautiful. He thought about Christian and Miriam, and let the quiet jealousy bubble up inside of him. He thought about Andrea and Rodrigo. Jesus didn’t know how to feel about it just yet. He felt angry, but there was something more than that. He felt lonely.
He thought about the girl at the bar, about the pretty woman with her shop at the marketplace at Nueva Casa, and about Miriam, about lost shots and missed opportunities. Even the dog, which would usually hang around the house, hoping to be fed, who would usually join him on the nightly excursions, was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? He was as lonely as lonely could be.
Jesus began making his way down the street that led to Andrea and his usual smoking spot. She wouldn’t be there. She was probably out with friends, he thought. Jesus hadn’t seen her around the house at all. As he trotted down the steep trail to the beach, his spirits began to lift. There was a subduing quality about the waves’ rhythmic attack and retreat onto the beach and back again to the infinite waters of the ocean. “How would it be,” Jesus wondered, “To be a fish in the sea?”
In that moment, as Jesus’ mind was lost far in the annals of contemplative thought, he heard an alarmed barking. Jesus turned to find Rufus, worked up into a fit, barking madly at nothing in particular.
He ran up to Jesus, then ran in a circle twice, then watched Jesus intently, all the time yapping.
“What’s wrong, Rufus? Are you hurt?” Jesus moved towards the dog to see if it was injured at all. Maybe it had gotten in a fight with a wild coyote or another dog. As he approached though, Rufus ran away, towards the path back up to the street. Jesus tried to corner the animal, but when he moved closer, the dog moved farther up the path, then spun around in place another two times and faced Jesus.
“Okay, buddy, show me what’s wrong,” He followed Rufus, all the while yapping incessantly, stopping every twenty feet and spinning in place. It was clear, as the dog led him up the path and farther down the street, that he was worked up over something. Jesus tried to guess what it was, but he hadn’t the faintest clue. Rufus led him down the residential street to an area that was yet to be developed. The road led on, and they followed, walking the unpaved path parallel to the shore line, until the road opened up into a clearing connected to the beach, a place where locals could haul their boats down to the water and set them off. There was a single car parked in the darkness of the edge of the water. Jesus could see two figures moving in the back seat.
“Rufus, you didn’t just lead me all the way down here to watch two people getting physical?” He began to turn back, but the dog started yipping more frantically. Jesus got the feeling that something more serious was going on. He approached the car and began to make out what was happening in the car.
The two dark figures were struggling. There were muffled screams. Jesus’ heart rate spiked as he realized the horrifying sight in front of him: Rodrigo had Andrea in the backseat gagged and bound by the wrists. He was raping her.