A New Home

Oscar took one last look at the house he grew up in. The bright green door that would greet him after school everyday now looked cold and malicious like a python ready to constrict his heart if he were to reach for the knob. The porch light flickering as if it were a camera, each photograph showing a sadder expression than the last. Even the flowers lining the side of the house glared at him disappointingly as they wither away. Looking at the chipped living room window, he thinks back to why this all happened.

“If you leave then who is going to take care of me!” his mother shouts across the dining room, echoing through their small house in the town of Vallecillo, Mexico.

“Mom I didn’t say I would leave soon but I’m 19 now. I want to go to school and see the world. I’m sure Juan will start to wake you for your doctor's appointments if I leave.”

“That man is not Juan. He is your father, even if you’re not related by blood. I didn’t raise you to be such a disrespectful child, Oscar! He works to pay our rent and you want to throw more responsibility onto him because you’re tired of us? Is that it? Is that really what the boy I raised and had a cesarean section for would say? Do you know how much money it takes to raise a kid? Over $200,000, Oscar. So before you leave to your magical little college, you should expect to pay me back for raising such a spoiled son.”

Her MCI is acting up again, Oscar thinks with a frown as his mother continues her barrage of criticisms to her only son. This is the fifth time I mentioned America and nothing ever changes. She always says I’m a disappointment, ungrateful or her favorite line: “a mistake to have invested their precious money in.” Oscar places the dinner plate he was holding back on the table next to the pile of scholarship books being used as coasters for the night's glasses.

“Mother, I'm an adult now. I can make my own decisions. I’m very thankful for you raising me, but it’s time for me to be my own person.”

“You know I hate being called mother! If you weren’t such an asshole then maybe you would have a girlfriend and start a family instead of having to go search for some American whore.”

“You can’t expect me to keep living here if all you do is storm me with these harassments. Do you not know how much it hurts having to fight with you every month?”

“Well if you want to leave so badly then go already. Forget that I raised you. If you’re going to be so ungrateful and disrespectful then just fuck off!” Tears start to form around Oscar's face as he turns around and heads to his room. “Hey! Come back here. I’m not done talking with you!” his mother screams as she throws her plate across the room cracking the living room window.

After his recollection, Oscar turns around and walks towards the rusty orange hunk of metal parked outside what he used to call home. He pops open the trunk and throws the one bag of clothes and pile of scholarship books into the black void. As he goes to shut the trunk his mood lightens as he remembers how he got the car.

It was a blazing Tuesday afternoon at Manuel’s Garage. The only job Oscar has kept for over 3 months. Manuel was working underneath an old sedan in the garage as Oscar walks over to him. “Hey, Manuel, I’m sorry but I have to leave at the end of the week. Is there a way I can buy a car off of you for under $1000.”

“Woah, little man. Where’s this coming from?”

“Some family stuff happened and I’m going to have to move.”

“Aye-Yai-Yai. This is a kick in the balls amigo— but deep down I always knew you were too

smart of a kid to work here for the rest of your life.” Manuel looks at his apprentice and notices the determination and sadness behind his plea. He sighs and rubs his hand across his face before getting up from under the vehicle and giving Oscar a reassuring smile. “Alright. Where does the ride need to get to?” Oscar hesitated, breaking eye contact and darted his eyes left to right before eventually taking a deep breath and mumbling that it was up north somewhere. “Hmmm. North, huh? Well this car I'm fixing up here might be your best bet. The transmission won’t go past third gear so it’ll probably be cheaper for the customer to sell it than for them to fix it. It’s a 2004 Ford Tarrus with 120,000 miles and 185 horsepower. Well not that you’ll be able to feel all of it with the broken transmission.” he chuckles to himself. “The color is pretty ugly but she’ll get you to where you’re going kid.”

“Do you think they’ll sell it to me for under a grand?”

“Maybe to you they won't, but since it's me negotiating then you won't have to worry about a thing. I’ll talk to the owner tonight and give them the news.”

“Thank you, Manuel. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Oscars says as he squeezes his soon to be ex-boss in a bear hug.

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure working with you kiddo.”

Oscar goes to the shop the next morning for his shift only to find that the “we are closed” sign was posted on the fence. That's extremely odd for a Wednesday, he thought, so he decided to look around. Oscar goes to peek inside the garage window. To his surprise though, everything was in the same place as yesterday. Next he decides to search the perimeter fence to see if there were any notes attached, but it was as barren as the day he first started. He was about to call Manuel when he saw the burning orange Ford Tarrus parked across the street. Looking around, Oscar searched for the owner of the car, but there was no other soul in sight. That’s when he noticed there was a letter taped to the front window. He debated for a second whether to open it or not; curiosity gets the best of him though and he tears the tape off the window. As Oscar starts to read it, tears tremble down and the most heartfelt smile the young boy has ever had breaks out across his face. “Come visit when you get sick of America, kiddo, but until then dont look back. P.S. You have to fiddle with the pedal but all the gears work now.” -Manuel.

Oscar finishes shutting the trunk and takes in the scenery of his hometown one last time. The rising sun illuminates the houses of the nearby neighbors and the wide open desert behind them. Oscar takes a few deep breaths of the dusty morning air before walking to the scratched up car door and getting in the driver seat. He reaches for the keys in his pocket when his phone slips out making a small bang as it hits the emergency brake. As he picks the newly cracked device up he decides to check his contact list one last time. While scrolling through the names of his past he is overwhelmed by a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia for the simpler time. That’s when he reaches the bottom of the list where the name Santiago is highlighted. A slight smile spreads across his lips as he looks at the photos they’ve shared together. Santiago and Oscar eating ice cream with their classmates during their middle school trips. Santiago's dented car when he hit the neighbors mailbox. Both of them sleeping on each other ,drooling and shirtless, when they got drunk on Santiago's 18th birthday. The most emotional photo out of all of them was also the most recent one. A picture of a half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo laying in a center console.

It was pitch black in their favorite parking lot. The only things visible in the entire lot were Santiago and Oscar sitting down in the front seats with a bottle of tequila between them. “Ah, nothing like a bottle of Jose Cuervo,” Oscar exclaims after his third shot. Santiago just stared at him in amazement as he looked down at his ¾ full glass in his hand.

“You know I hate drinking, bro. I can barely finish my first shot. Just tell me what it is you wanted to talk about." Oscar downs another shot before speaking again.

"I'm going to move to Texas. My mom and I got into a fight yesterday and she's kicking me out."

“To Texas?” Santiago was more visibly shocked with this remark than Oscars third shot of alcohol.  “Why are you leaving all the way to Texas? Just move in with me, bro. I’m sure my mom will be fine with it.”

“Thank you, Santiago, but I can’t accept that. The problems with my family aren’t the only reason I want to go. I just don’t think there’s anything left for me here in Vallecillo. All that we have are a few restaurants and junkyards. There is so much more to see and learn than this tiny little town has to offer.”

“So I’m nothing, huh?”

“It’s not like that. You’re my best friend and I love you, but if I stay here another 2-3 years then I’ll just be rotting my prime away.”

“What do you think your prime is then?”

“I’d say it’s your 20s.”

“So you think you’re already washed up when you reach 30?”

“Not really, but your 20s are when you’re supposed to be in college and starting a career. It's the most valuable time of our lives.”

“That's debatable–- but whatever. You’re only 19, dude. You can wait a few more years until you go. Just look at me! I’m 21 and doing just fine.”

“Why don’t we go together?  Don’t you want to be more than just a server when you have kids? Texas has so many great things, my man. There'll be fresh barbecues, American sorority girls

and we’ll be right next to the Colorado River if we want to go for a swim."

"You know I've always hated school, dawg. I’m not as smart as you. I failed English so even if we were to leave I wouldn’t get accepted to an American college. Now shut up and drink some more or you’re going to make me start crying.” Oscar nods and raises the bottle to the sky one last time.

Oscar turns on the ignition as the machine around him vibrates to life. He shuffles the podcasts on his phone until he settles on one about Einstein's journey in college. He looks up to check his rearview mirror but stops himself. “Don’t look back, kiddo” repeats in his head as he pushes down on the gas. While turning off the road he grew up on he apologizes for the disappointment his mother felt raising him. He passes Santiago's house, thanking him for being the greatest friend he could ask for. Then he makes a right turn on the corner where the garage is and promises to Manuel that he’ll be a different man when they next meet. A man worthy of the kindness that he’s shown him. He drives past his old school and the road to the restaurant where Santiago works at. Leaves behind the church his family went to every Sunday evening and field where he played soccer as a kid. Then the car’s left lights blink as he turns onto Federal Highway 85. To everyone else this beaten down paved road is just a commute to Sabinas Hidalgo, or maybe it’s the road they take to visit family in Laredo. In this moment though, on the seemingly endless path with a small bright orange box driving down it, the road is to freedom. To a destination of dreams. To a place with promises of new opportunities, new struggles and new happiness. For one drifting boy named Oscar, Highway 85 is the road to a new home.