El Chico

We sat in the movie theatre, ready to relive the old days of yore. While the commercials aired, I talked to my friend.   

Remember this Western film, about El Chico and El Rancho? I loved it as a kid!

Yeah. My childhood best friend and I would watch it every weekend.           

We snuggled down in our seats, popcorn’s buttery flavor filling our noses. Our mouths watered. Tears came to our eyes. What memories!                        

I wasn’t even named. My mother just called me ‘Boy’. I never enjoy my childhood memories. My father abandoned me. I only wish that I didn’t run away sooner.

I never have a friend with whom to bask in the sun. My past weighed down my shoulders like I would weigh down a dog should I ride it.        

Someday, I’m going to claim the whole world by wrangling those cows with this here lasso of mine. I’m going to be the best of the best of cowboys out there. With my trusty steed, El Rancho, I’m going to wrap every pueblo, city, cattle ranch, horse ranch and peoples out there. Because I’m the best. I’m the best in the city of Guadalupe, Mexico.       

Only then will I have a name. Yes, the Important One!

Here, we can live. We can dream. But no one’s fulfilled their dreams. No one’s ever accomplished their ideal life or settled for more and got it. Everyone’s just either given up on their hopes and dreams, no longer thought they needed to succeed or just never dreamt at all.   

But I do! I still want to become the best ever. Because, when I was little, I remember—oh! I remember the days when I would attempt to let that tied rope circle around and around, the wind howling as the rope teased the wind and the rope snapped and crackled. I would strive to lasso it around small El Rancho, thinking I was the best when it was up in the air. But he would just laugh, letting his mane fly as he neighed boastfully. Anyway, I’m going to be best one day.

I’m only 9 years old. And I’ve lived in this desert pueblo-turned-western-movie-place all my life. But I never had a simple friend to call a best friend. I’ve been lonely. I’ve always had my faithful horse, El Rancho, I got from a ranch miles away from my pueblo. He eats oats and hay and barley. I eat eggplant, rice and beans and corn nuts. And sometimes honey on bread. What a treat!

But the real treat this Christmas should be a best friend. I should be ice-skating with him/her, roasting marsh mellows with him/her, singing in the barn with El Rancho bobbing his head to that favorite tune of ours with him/her and even sharing The Lone Ranger or Cowboys and Horses. I always loved The Lone Ranger! Oh, the days when my mother would pop our favorite caramel popcorn we’d pull out every Halloween and eat up until the wee hours of the morning after spending about three hours going from house to house to celebrate Halloween. I didn’t like the celebrations so much, but I always saw my cousins and siblings and neighbors run around together, pretending to be ghosts or pumpkins or macho wrestlers. Everyone dressed up (but me). Everyone got candy (but me). Everyone loved the celebrations (but me).

Then one time I was at school (I’m scratching the same scar), I would get scratched by the teacher’s class cat. Its vicious, razor-sharp claws struck right out at me! I couldn’t understand what it was saying (it talked, by the way!). But it just mocked me, laughing and pointing at the kid who couldn’t even understand the math problem. Everyone would just stand there and stare at me, not laughing or mocking me. I would just go ignored. I grew up this way. My mother would soothe me, whispering a melody to calm my crying voice. Tears that streamed down my dark skin would fall into her big, soft hand that would brush those tears away. Her soothing voice would then become firm, ordering me to stand up for myself. I balked, claiming I had never done anything. The cat—it hated me!

Just because someone hates you, doesn’t mean you need to accept that hatred. You can tell that enemy to shut its mouth! I remember her hand swooping down like a huge vulture coming down onto its prey to snatch it up. She grabbed my scrawny arm and said as she threw me softly out the door, Just do it! Don’t linger.

The cat would growl and hunch down and glare, sitting there on the teacher’s brown, ugly, dusty little table of a desk and stare at me. Like all the other children. But it wouldn’t move, even when the teacher left. It would stay there all night long. I wondered at times whether the cat was really a cat—was it a magical person shapeshifting?

I’m riding on El Rancho in the desert’s cacti, ginormous rocks casting huge shadows on the ugly sand and nothing but dust and sand and hot wind sending a rain of sweat down my back and neck. I’m so hot—the sun stares at me from across a thousand deserts. However, I just don’t really want to be stared at anymore. Even El Rancho here stares curiously up at me although his eyes can’t see straight—literally! The hot heat and hotter sand and wind is nothing compared to the staring.

But no more!

I slapped the brown Azteca, and he reared up, showing off with his hoofs, kicking into the wind like he was telling it who was boss. Then, he dashed off towards the sun. I felt like Icarus flying too close to the sun. But I was supposed to be the best ranch hand in Guadalupe, Mexico. Everyone would stare at me in awe until I would wave everyone’s stares away so that they would start blinking again. In amazement.

I galloped and galloped, urging El Rancho, his hoofs like thunder against the delicate earth. He huffed, his nose so full of fiery breath he just had to tell all the world he was the best horse. No one could outrun him. That dumb cat who scratched me so long ago would be left in the crowd while El Rancho and I were performing to everyone’s sheer wonder!  

We kept galloping and galloping. Faster and faster, the wind flowing through my hair, the desert singing me a song (but not my mother’s softly sung songs those nights I lay in the hammock, slowly drifting off to sleep). The wind whooshed a hair out of my face as if to say, So long! That’s what I wanted to say to that cat. To everyone in the pueblo. For staring at me.      

El Rancho and I will perform—hopefully to the entertainment of a human friend. I ride. Maybe I’ll find someone in the town over yonder. We ride under an arch made of desert rock. We ride against time, against the wind, against the pueblo’s staring memories etched into my mind like that cat’s scratches clawed into my face. 

Running away from my hometown doesn’t remove those claw marks. Running away doesn’t erase the pain staring at me in my mind. The eyes narrowed slowly and then looked away. The humiliation.

The—

“Whoa! El Rancho, what are you doing?” 

Suddenly, I found myself being thrown off my horse. But I grabbed my rope, going around and around in circles, making a lasso! I let it go, attempting to loop it around my horse’s neck. I looked down—a rushing river! My eyes widened in terror. I yelled for El Rancho to throw his head under the rope’s circle sailing through the air, but he just panicked.

Come on, El Rancho! I trusted you all this time! I was falling. Towards the river. Suddenly, I felt claws on me, and looked around. An eagle! I hung there, for the eagle’s claws had closed around my shoulders. I told it to bring it back to my horse. It obeyed. Then it left, me watching it fly away. I was confused.

in the legends my mother recalled every night before I went to bed, the eagle bowed and then flew off, never forgetting that person. I balled my fists! That was me. I should’ve been bowed to, too!

I pumped the air with a fist, screaming to the air, “What do you think you’re doing? You’re an eagle. You were supposed to—”

“Bow to you?”    

I spun around, shocked. A voice! The eagle spoke? I gawked. Then I collected myself. “You… did you save me?”

It morphed into the cat! I jerked back and balled my fists. I was ready to face this demon. This monster! It was going to get its just desserts! I searched for the rope. It wasn’t anywhere. El Rancho—he wasn’t there, either! I spun around. “El Rancho!” I demanded.

I slowly turned towards the cat. “Did you chase El Rancho away?”  

 “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to forgive me.” It turned into a person. He was my height, maybe my age. I stayed my distance. El Rancho, or no El Rancho, I had to defend myself if I was going to be the best cowhand in Mexico!

“Forgive you for what?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Forgive me for scratching you.” The boy stood there. He looked like he hadn’t slept in four days. His tattered, holed shirt and pants screamed to be washed. His shoes’ buckles were broken. I felt I had to bring him home and give him extra clothes. I tried not plugging my nose as his smell wafted over to me. He’d throw me off the cliff. Walking up to me, he put a hand on my shoulder. “I was scared. Scared of the kids, too.” A minute later, “What’s your name?”      

“Born without a name. My mother would just call me, ‘boy’ or ‘chico’ or some other lame name.” I glowered at him. “I am nothing!”

“That’s why you ran away?” 

I started searching for El Rancho. I whistled, and he came speeding back to me, slowing and then stopping right in front of me. Bobbing his head, he neighed. I grinned and petted his brown and white muzzle, him nickering softly. I shrugged lamely. “I don’t have anyone. Just El Rancho.”      

 “I was dragged into the classroom to be the teacher’s pet—literally. But I didn’t want to just be a distraction to the kids. I wanted to do something with my life. I needed to live purposefully. Without a friend, I couldn’t even stand up for myself. I had no one. Not even a name.”   

I snickered. “You don’t have a name, either?”

“Just ‘Cat’. Not even Tails or something.” 

“How about…?” I thought. “El—”

“No. I need to make a name for myself.” He walked up to me, swinging an arm around me. “I just want to be known. And know me. Not just grow up, you know?”

I shrugged lamely. 

“You have El Rancho. I lost my best friend to a horse race; can’t get my mind off it. She fell off her panicking mare, as a snake got away. She stamped her hoofs right on her stomach. She died instantly. I was there. I couldn’t get out—even for Halloween, my favorite holiday.” 

“I focus on it like I did those movies I watched. Just keep re-watching my past.”

“I shapeshifted into that cat. I would stare because I was speechless from grief. So when you went up to me, I just reacted out of fear.”

I recalled how my father abandoned me when I was just a baby, and my mother always told me I’d get a name when I fought for myself. Stood up for myself against the bullies who always stared at me. Then I’d be important.

“A best friend’s death means nothing compared to a nameless nobody!”  

I galloped, away from this boy-cat person-animal. I didn’t have a best friend, either, but I didn’t even have any memories of one. I never had anyone. As El Rancho galloped, I steered him to the right, going somewhere further into the desert. I drove him hard, gritting my teeth. I wished I hadn’t told him anything! He was just a stranger. 

Stand up for yourself, Boy, and you’ll get your name!

My mother’s words echoed in my head. She wasn’t going to soothe me or dry my face. I wouldn’t cry anymore. I didn’t need comfort.

I drove El Rancho around and around, never stopping until I did choose to. I then started doing tricks, and before I knew it, I heard clapping and singing and whistling. I grinned, glowing in the man’s wide smile and applause. I also heard cheering. There was the boy! I continued. Soon, hundreds of people—some I recognized—showed up, cheering me on. I spun around, did some tricks in the air and on El Rancho, landing perfectly on him. He reared up, kicked out behind him and then snorted boastfully. I stood up, and bowed, applause filling my ears.

Then I saw her. Her eyes were filled with tears. She had such a wide smile on her face. Her eyes danced with admiration. But how could a mother admire someone she never named? I looked away and then hightailed it out of there, seeking a real family. A better life than with a woman who couldn’t even name her own son something meaningful. El Rancho snorted, as if agreeing. I guess I’d just have him.

Soon, I found a rocky cliff. El Rancho suddenly decided to brake. I kicked him, growling that he wouldn’t go over. Maybe death was better than having no name at all!

I started yelling for El Rancho to gallop to the edge of the cliff so I could jump off. El Rancho rose up into the air, screaming in protest. He landed and stamped in place, and I screamed at him, falling off but crashing to the sand below. He reared back, his hoofs rearing right above me. I glowered at the neighing animal. Let them come, El Rancho! Let them stomp right on me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. 

El Rancho was far away. He was pawing the sand, snorting and whinnying. I jumped up to run over to him and then I was held back! My mother was coming at me with something. I blocked my face to avoid it—

“Ah—Mama!”

I sputtered, gagging on water. I wiped my face, choked and then gasped. “What’s going on?” I stammered.

“Wait. Wait, El—!”

I turned away. But my mother kept talking. “I scared El Rancho away! He was going to kill you.” She ordered me to lay back down. I looked everywhere—the porch, the hammock. I was back home. My mother found me? She never went past the back porch!

“I need to tell you something. The reason I never used your name El—”

“I’m not seven anymore!” I dashed away, away from my mother, pueblo, home, everything. That dumb cat. My dumb life. I might as well be called Dummy. Because I was one.

I ran and ran. I would find El Rancho and run off to thrive in the world of the cowhands and ranch hands, getting any job I could to muster up the courage and build my way to the top of the world performing or anything that would make me successful.

I grew thirsty. Stopping by a cactus, I forgot the prickling needles. Screaming in agony, I stomped my foot, pounding it against the sand. The scorching hot pain of the needles embedded in my hand sent me in a slight frenzy, me falling onto the sand and striving to dig the needles out myself. I only made it worse—what if my nails weren’t big enough? I screamed for help. Suddenly, a horse galloped up to me, neighing. His desire to free me flashed in those scared eyes. I shook my head, and he started pawing, snorting. El Rancho settled immediately when I talked to him. 

Anger replaced the metallic-tasting worry coating my mouth. Dad should be here to pluck every needle out of my hand so I could return atop my horse! Watch me riding like a cowboy­.

A shadow of a person appeared, and I jerked over. That boy! He morphed into the cat and somehow plucked all the needles out of my hand. I screamed for five minutes and then squinted—they were out completely! 

I looked up. “You came back!”

He swung an arm around me. “Why not? A friend in need is a friend indeed. Besides, your mother got concerned, so we came for you.”             

I looked over. My mother’s eyes shimmered with love, and she opened her arms to hug me. “Oh, El Chico!”  

I furrowed my brows. “Who’s ‘El Chico’?”

“Your name, El Chico, will always be that—because you are the boy who has always made me smile!”

“When I watched your show back there—a show of your own—I couldn’t be prouder. El Rancho and you were always there for each other. Best of friends. You remind me of your father, El Puerto Rico. Envy had rotted my bones.   

“I’m sorry, El Chico. Can you forgive me?” She pleaded.  

“I do, Mama!” I hugged her, and she embraced me. “I do.” 

“Thank you, El Chico. Thank you!”      

As she stroked my hair, I smiled. After letting go, she kissed me and picked me up after I stuck out a hand. I went over to El Rancho and pet him, him putting his head on my shoulder. 

De nada, Mama!