Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
“Okay, Lupe,” he said, catching his breath, yet still feeling confident, “I’m going to have to get in the middle and lift up the whole rear end of the truck, and then shove it forward at the same time.”
“Can you do that, Salvador? I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“I got to,” said Salvador, glancing up at the huge boiling red-orange Sun. “We have no other choice, Lupe.”
Sweat was pouring down his face. His whole shirt was soaked through and dripping. That was why he’d taken the shirt out of his pants, so the sweat could drip off onto the ground and not run down the inside of his pants. This was a trick that he’d also learned while working on the railroad up in Montana.
But when Salvador got hold of the truck in the middle, wanting to lift up both tires at the same time, he just didn’t have enough power to do it. He was too tired, and his feet were also sinking deeper into the sand.
Still, Salvador gave it a try again and again until he finally just fell down into the hot sand in exhaustion, coughing and gagging, trying to catch his breath.
Lupe turned off the motor. She hadn’t really realized how hot it truly was out in the direct sunlight until she’d stepped out of the cab.
“My God!” she said. “It’s boiling out here, Salvador! You can’t be doing this, you’ll kill yourself, mi esposo!”
“Lupe,” said Salvador, between gasps for air. “What choice do we have? I got to, or we’re going to die,” he added, not knowing how to put it any other way.
“Oh, no, we’re not!” said Lupe, now realizing the gravity of the situation as she glanced up at the huge red-orange Father Sun. “We are not going to die! Do you hear me, Salvador, we are going to get through this alive and well, and that’s that!”
“Not for long without water,” he said.
“Well, then we’ll find water,” said Lupe, looking around at the infinity of sand, but she didn’t panic. No, once more she had this feeling, this knowingness coming to her from this Holy Other Self—which just kept hovering above her like a Guardian Angel directly from God. And then she saw it, and she saw it so clearly. “But Salvador, we do have water,” she said, “we have lots of water right here in the radiator!”
Salvador’s eyes opened wide. “You’re right,” he said, smiling. “I never thought of that.” And he looked at his wife, Lupe, with more love and respect than he’d ever dreamed of having for another human being besides his own mother.
“Come,” she said, “let’s get you out of the Sun, mi esposo, and I’ll make a shade for us with a blanket on the other side of the truck. Then after you rest a little, you can then show me how to steal a little water from the truck and we’ll drink just enough to keep us alive until some help comes by or the day cools off, so we can then go on. Either way, we are not going to die, Salvador! You hear me, we are going to live, and that’s that!”
Tears would’ve come to Salvador’s eyes if he wasn’t so dehydrated—he was so much in love with this young woman before him. But he didn’t cry and he could hardly move. Lupe had to help him up and get him to the north side of their truck where there was a little pinch of shade.
Salvador couldn’t stop grinning. He’d married a good one! There was just no way that Lupe was ever going to let them die. His mother’s evaluation of Lupe—that day when she and her familia had stopped by to milk Luisa’s mean old she-goat—had been, indeed, correct. A mother truly could help a son in picking out the best wife.
Lying down on the wooden ties and leaning back on the driver’s side of their truck, Salvador watched Lupe rip one of her dresses into ties so she could put up a blanket for shade. Salvador figured that they’d have to wait about an hour for the truck to cool down enough so they could get a little water out of the radiator without a lot of water boiling out.
When Lupe finished making the shade, she then got under it along with Salvador, holding their child on her lap. She looked so happy and proud of herself and full of confidence.
Salvador closed his eyes so he could rest. Time passed and more time passed and the silence of the land was so complete it was eerie. Nothing moved or made a sound. Then Lupe began to baby-talk with their daughter, sounding like a happy bird in the deadly silence.
Finally, Salvador figured that they could now draw out a little water from the radiator. When they did it, the water tasted hot and awful, but Lupe then ingeniously drained it with some cloth, and they were able to finally sip enough to keep their mouths from turning into cotton and their tongues from swelling up in pain.
No vehicles came. The Father Sun seemed to get hotter and hotter, instead of cooler. Dozing off, Salvador thought of his mother and wondered what she would do.
Then he suddenly realized that she was here, she was always here, and she was calling to him. He awoke with a start. Dios mio, Lupe had passed out. She was lying half out in the Sun with her mouth wide-open and her tongue hanging out. She looked dead.
Instantly, Salvador was on his feet, hearing his mother’s voice inside his head. “Quickly, mi hijito,” she was saying to him. “Lupe is dying! Get that cloth she used for Hortensia and rewet it and get her to suck some water down her throat before she swallows her tongue!”
And as he got up to do what his mother’s voice told him to do, he flashed back in his mind to those terrible days of the Revolution when his mother had saved his sisters and him from the jaws of death again and again!
Cannons had been exploding all about them, but his old mother had never panicked. No, she’d kept calm, clearheaded, and gotten him and his sisters out of the way of the stampeding hooves of the soldiers’ horses and into the brush, then she’d given them little, round, smooth stones to suck on so that they wouldn’t swallow their tongues from lack of water.
Salvador wet the cloth and put it to Lupe’s mouth to suck on and he said to her—as his mother had said to him—”Lupe, wake up and suck on this cloth. Our daughter, Hortensia, needs you. We are going to get out of this hell con el favor de Dios. You are our eje de nuestra familia, Lupe. So suck on this cloth! Suck,” he pleaded.
Coming around, Lupe began to suck on the cloth just like a newborn instinctively going to her mother’s breast. And it was beautiful; Lupe had been dying, but then she’d heard her husband’s voice calling her and she’d pushed herself beyond the dark shadow of death!
And she had no Fear. Above Salvador—a few feet in the air—Lupe could see Doña Margarita and the Virgin Mary and a whole legion of Angels and one Angel was far brighter than all the rest. And this brightest Angel of all, Lupe knew, was Lucifer, himself, and once more he was at the Almighty’s side. All Fear was gone! Our Holy Familia was Together again!
Seeing Lupe coming around, Salvador was overjoyed. “You’ve come back to life, mi amor,” he said, kissing her again and again—he was so happy!
Quickly, he got Lupe and Hortensia into the cab, threw the blanket into the back and got into the driver’s seat, released the handbrake and put the truck in neutral.
This was it! His familia was dying! And he was rested, and he was un Mejicano! Un macho de los buenos! Un Tapatio de los Altos de Jalisco! And so he would now lift the entire rear end of the truck up into the air and give it one mighty shove, get them back on the road, then they’d drive off and get to the Colorado River.
He turned to the Father Sun. “Please, Lord God, help me! Give me the POWER of MI PAPA!”
Saying this, Salvador was shocked that he’d asked for strength of his father. But, then, he suddenly realized that this was, indeed, the type of strength that he needed right now; that brute power of his father that had enabled his papa to do so many great feats, like rope and drag the gigantic serpent that had held their village hostage with fear!
Salvador suddenly realized for the very first time in his life that he really did love his father, after all. That he did have good feelings for that tall, red-headed, blue-eyed Spaniard who’d always hit him on the head, calling him names because he, Salvador, was dark and short, and Indian-
And instantly, with this feeling of Love for a man that Salvador had always assumed that he hated, he, Juan Salvador Villaseñor, now went to the back of the truck and grabbed hold of the rear bumper once again. He wiggled his feet solidly into the soft sand, then with a mighty SCREAM he yanked up the whole rear end of the truck, as he knew that his mighty father could have done! But still—oh, he just didn’t quite have the strength to move the vehicle forward onto the planks, and he fell down! And now both rear tires were in the sand!
Salvador exploded, screaming to the HEAVENS! Bellowing with ALL HIS MIGHT! “Don’t tease me like this, God! I saw it all so clearly for a moment! I had amor even for mi papa, damnit!”
He lay down in the hot, burning sand, panting like a dog. “God,” he said between gasps for air, “I need help, don’t You see? Right now! Not tomorrow! I was only inches away from getting the two tires up on the planks! But I’m not quitting, God, no matter how much You put me through! You hear me,” he yelled to the Heavens. “I’m not quitting! I’m mi mama’s son, too, and she never quit on nada, not once, even when we were dying in the desert!”
Then he saw it so clearly: he was both Indian and European! Both bloods ran within his veins. He was un mezclado, un mestizo, a United Force from two different WORLDS!
Seeing this so clearly, Salvador leaped to his feet. He grabbed hold of the rear bumper with the power of both of his ancestries, and he tried again, and again and each time he almost did it, but he just didn’t quite have that last little bit of power to put both of the rear tires up on the wooden ties.
Finally he fell down to his knees, crying and sobbing. He’d failed his familia. He was now ready to give up the ghost and start cursing God for having forsaken them just as he’d seen his father do when he’d returned home to their village and thought all his blue-eyed sons dead and everything in ruins. But no, Salvador did not do this!
Instead, he closed his eyes in concentration as he’d seen his mother do thousands of times when it looked like it was the end for them, and he said in a calm, even voice, “God, look at me, just take a good long look at me. Don’t You see, I’m Here,” he said, with tears flowing down his face. “I’m Here and I’m Your son, too, my mother told me, just as much as Jesus Christ. For my mother Loves You and Lives for You with her every Breath, just like her Best Friend, the Virgin Mary. Don’t You see, God, We’re All One Familia!’’
He knelt in the sand. “And yeah, I know that I screw up a lot, God, but I do keep giving it my best. So come on, God, We’re Familia, You and I, so give me a little help right now, Papito!”
Once more, Salvador got back up and set his feet and got hold of the rear bumper, because he hadn’t lost Faith. He still fully Trusted that his Heavenly Father would come through for him and make a Miracle Here on this Tierra Firme just as God had for his mother time and again. But then—when he set his feet and got ready to give it his all once again—he heard a voice behind him say, “May I help you?”
Salvador turned, half expecting to see God, Himself, but it wasn’t. It was Kenny White.
Salvador held, not quite knowing what to think. Kenny White was now a young man and he had long, dark hair like those pictures of Jesus. Salvador smiled.
“Yeah, sure, Kenny,” he said. “I could sure use your help.”
Grinning ear to ear with that grand smile of his, Kenny White handed Salvador a water bag full of dripping cool water, and said, “Move aside, amigo, you look a little tired.” And Kenny then just got hold of the bumper and lifted up the entire rear end of the pickup as if it were a toy, and put the vehicle back on the wooden road.
Then he turned, still smiling that beautiful smile of his, and said nothing more as he walked off into the desert of sand hills, leaving footprints as he went. He disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.
Salvador stood still for a full minute, thinking no thoughts, feeling no feelings.
Then with huge eyes, he uncorked the canvas water bag, took a sip, and it was the sweetest, coolest water he ever tasted. He drank down two good mouthfuls, but no more. Then he got in the driver’s seat, wet a piece of cloth and reached across the seat, moistening Lupe’s forehead. Little by little, his truelove came back around again.
“Here, Lupe,” he now said to her, “drink. We have water, but no, no, not so fast. I don’t want you getting sick.”
Lupe drank and drank, catching her breath between swallows, then Salvador gave some water to Hortensia. She wasn’t as bad off as her mother. Lupe had actually looked like she’d been dying.
“What happened?” asked Lupe after she’d gotten some color back to her face. “The last thing I remember—I’d thought we died, Salvador. Where did you get the water? It’s so cool and delicious.”
“Kenny,” said Salvador. “Kenny came walking out of the desert from that direction over there, Lupe, and he gave me this bag of water, then he lifted up the whole truck and put it back on the road for us.”
“Kenny!?!” said Lupe. “Our Kenny White from Carlsbad who got killed?”
“Yes, our Kenny White from Carlsbad,” said Salvador. “But he’s not old anymore, Lupe. He’s young and he has long, dark hair, you know, like those pictures of Jesus.”
“Oh, my God,” said Lupe, making the sign of the cross over herself, “Maria told me that in her dream, Jesus came to save us, and that He was also the One who helped me push that door open and drag you out of that burning Hell!”
“Well, then Jesus has saved us twice in the last few weeks,” said Salvador. “And this time, He did it through Kenny, instead of through you.” He drank some more water. “Isn’t this the sweetest water you’ve ever tasted?”
“Yes,” said Lupe, “just like our water back home that rained down the cliff of gold. Oh, Salvador, we are Blessed, aren’t we?” Her eyes filled with tears of joy.
He nodded. “I think we’ve died, Lupe, and gone to Heaven.”
Hearing this, Lupe felt a cold chill going up and down her spine.
“What is it?” asked Salvador. “Do you feel sick?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “I have this feeling that maybe we really have died, Salvador, and now all of this is just a dream.”
He swallowed. “This is what my mother says that people actually do when they let go of all their Fears and start Living in the Grace of God—they Die and are forever then in Heaven.”
If anyone else had said this, Lupe would have dismissed it as wild talk. But feeling what she was feeling deep inside of herself, and hearing this had come from her mother-in-love, Lupe could see this had, indeed, been Salvador’s mother’s Power. The old woman had died and been reborn long ago, just as Jesus had done, only to ascend into Heaven three days later.
“Mi hijita,” she’d told Lupe once, “Jesus isn’t some faraway unreachable Holy Being, but the Living Example of what We can all Be.”
Taking in a deep breath, Salvador started the motor, drove out of the little turnout, and got them back on the wooden-plank road. They were moving along at a good ten to fifteen miles an hour again. At this speed, they’d get out of these sand hills in no time and then they’d be at the Colorado River by sundown. They were good now, they were very good, they were a married couple who Knew of Miracles as well as they knew of tortillas y frijoles.
Salvador looked at the sand hills all about him as he drove. They looked beautiful. They no longer looked threatening. They were now actually Singing, Dancing, Sending their Amor.
Suddenly, Salvador knew how his mother had made the barrels of whiskey disappear. Truly, once a person gave up the ghost, then all of life was a dream and in dreams a human being could make of life whatever they desired—con el favor de Dios!
21
They’d met Death and they’d found Death to simply be another Holy Opening to the Creator’s Corazón—Beat, BEAT, BEATING throughout the UNIVERSE!
THEY DROVE ACROSS THE RIVER. There was no one at the border to s
They drove into the tiny town of Yuma. They bought groceries and went down to the river to spend the night on the Arizona side of the border. They found a whole encampment of Mexicans and local Indians by the river’s edge. Most of the Mexicans were headed back to Mexico, but others were simply playing it day by day and working in the fields outside of Yuma, trying to figure out what to do next.
When the Sun went down, the mosquitoes got so bad everyone went crazy. Salvador drove back into town and bought half a dozen big cigars and had the men light them up and blow smoke on themselves and on their families. The mosquitoes never came near them again that whole night.
Salvador said that he’d learned this trick up in Montana from the only other Mexican up there, who’d been from Veracruz, and he’d told Salvador that in the jungles, the lead man always puffed on a big cigar so that the smoke would trail back over the others and keep all the bugs away, not just the mosquitoes.
For two days and nights, Salvador and Lupe mostly slept, getting over the terrible ordeal that they’d had in the desert. When they shared their story with the gente, many of them came forward with similar stories. It seemed that every family—who’d crossed the river—had at one time or another been helped out by a dead friend or relative coming to them in their hour of need.
One local Indian woman told Salvador that he’d come face to face with the Spirit of the Sacred Sand Hills when he’d seen Kenny White. And that this powerful Spirit they, the locals, considered much like the Christians considered Jesus.
Hearing this, Lupe made the sign of the cross over herself. It was all becoming more and more clear to her every day. Her mother’s last words to her had been so wise. “And always remember above all else, mi hijita, miracles do happen. They are a mother’s sustenance.”