The Book of Wanderers by Reyes Ramirez

Author:Reyes Ramirez [Ramirez, Reyes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC029000 Fiction / Short Stories (single Author), FIC05700 Fiction / Mashups, FIC056000 Fiction / Hispanic & Latino
Publisher: University of Arizona Press
Published: 2022-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Lilia

Female. 8 years old. 3�5�. Hazel eyes she got from her mother that burned like rusty flames around a black sun. Coca-Cola black hair that in sunlight glowed cherubic gold. Puffy cheeks with lips between them that opened to reveal Chiclet-white teeth whenever she was cooed to sleep.

Died in the back seat of this reddish car. Coughs scraped out of her little larynx like a knife over toast, before less oxygen went into her lungs than out, before the whistly wheezing became airless choking, before the grip she had on my hand became the soft scratching into my palm, before I looked back at her as we pulled into the hospital parking lot and never seeing her again. This was before I went kind of crazy, before I did and said a bunch of stupid shit, before I lost my job and her mother, and before I begged everyone not to leave. It didn’t work.

I’m not going to go too much into detail of what my life was before Lilia, or after, because none of it is of any use anymore. Let’s just say driving people from point A to point B in this car is all I’m good for now. It happens. Anyways, it’s my overnight shift I took on after not making enough during daylight hours last month, bills piling up near the front door like hourglass sand.

I start as the sun finishes setting, what’s left of its purple residue still lingering over the Houston skyline. I clean the interior of my car by vacuuming the seats and picking up anything left from passengers. Sometimes, I’ll find a long strand of hair that I hold up to a light. I always examine them closely, and they all glow with the same yellow so I’m never sure how long it’s been since Lilia . . . I then let the strand of hair go to be devoured by the damp ether until it returns to my car. I accept this as simply another process of the universe so that the earth remains on its axis.

I then log into the vehicle-for-hire service on my phone and wait for someone to request a ride. Their name and destination will show up, and I hope for the ones that require me to go around downtown. I like driving near the skyscrapers on 45, their yellow lights fading in and out across my skin and dashboard as I pass them. It reminds me of a time when I was a citizen of the world.

And there they are: Madison. Female. 25-27 years old. White. Short, blonde hair. From Downtown to Golfcrest. Odd.

I put the keys in the ignition, turn my wrist until the car takes its first deep breath of the night, and drive. From there, I merge on the feeder to get onto the freeway, the connecting ramp closing in, in 1-2-3. There it is. Every ramp has a shift in the consistency of the asphalt when the tar road meets the concrete freeway.

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