A So-Called Vacation (14 page)

“Look, Gabi! They do have postcards!”

Yet in the short time it took Gus to maneuver his brother to the souvenir rack, his tone had turned calculating. “Don't worry. If his cousins are gone it's even better. Then we'll make the old man spring for rooms to make up for the shack we're staying in. Let him pay through the nose.”

“I don't know about that. He's not exactly making money hand over—”

“Look,” Gus interrupted, “let me ask you something. Do you think those Borrados are any better than us?”

“The Borrados?”

“Yes, the Borrados. The same jerks cooling their butts in the town pool as we speak.”

“But what do they have to do with—?”

“Don't get all complicated on me. Just answer my question. Do you think they deserve a better life than we do?”

“No, but—”

Once more, the moment that Gabriel tried to voice his doubts, his brother immediately interrupted him.

“Then let Dad be a real father to us. Let him pull out the wad for once, just like old Don Pilo.”

G
abriel felt a hand on his shoulder, rocking him awake, then heard, “Dad's been hinting he might go into town again. Keep an eye on him.”

Even into the following morning Gus was still worried that their father might try to contact his cousin. Gabriel tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes but it only made the drowsiness worse. “Why can't you watch him?”

“I have. I just need to go see if Victor's around.”

Gabriel did not agree until he felt alert enough. “Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe we should encourage him to call his relatives. If he commits to seeing them, then we're locked into the trip.”

“Maybe. But if he does call and they give him the runaround, that'll be his excuse for not going.”

“But he already agreed, Gus. Now it's up to us to beat one of the Borrados.”

“I guess I just want to close all the loopholes. You know Dad. Even Paula calls him the Hispanic Houdini.”

“Gus, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been doing too much thinking lately. Imagine if you'd done that—”

“Yeah, yeah, imagine if I'd done all that thinking during the school year. You're starting to sound like Dad.”

Gabriel knew better than to argue. It had become a battle of wills for Gus, even though their father was unaware of their duel.

Gus returned shortly with the news that the white preacher was organizing another open-air service. “You should go down there, Dad.”

“What for? I have nothing to confess.”

“Fine. It's just that I heard a couple of guys asking if you planned to show up like last time.”

Their father pondered his options, including the likelihood of drumming up clients, then slowly made his way to the van. “Do you two want to come along?”

“We've got other plans,” said Gus. “And it's like you just said. My soul is spotless, so why waste my time anywhere close to a preacher.”

Gabriel was in the dark as to their plans, but he backed Gus. “Besides, if they see us fumbling next to you, it'll drive everyone away.”

After most of the camp had trickled off in the direction of the sermon, Gus told his brother, “Get your trunks. Victor said he'd take us to the canal.”

But after it became obvious that Victor would not be there to guide them, they decided to make their own way to the canal. After backtracking twice, they eventually reached a high clearing that gave them a better glimpse of the terrain. They then followed a faint path that cut through the underbrush and wild vines and up the canal bank.

As they stripped to their new trunks, they assumed they were alone until a male voice called out, “Who's there?”

“The
tejanos
.” Gabriel shielded his eyes and squinted into the water's reflection to identify the voice.

“That's not saying much. There are tons of
tejanos
in camp.”

“We're the brothers from the border. From McAllen.” Noticing a head beside a patch of river sedge, Gabriel quickly added, “But we're not the Borrado brothers.”

The young man showed the rest of his face and shoulders, dark and shiny as a wet seal, as he swam toward the gunnysack rope. “Hell, everyone knows those guys never swim here.”

When he pulled himself onto the bank, Gabriel recognized him as one of the bachelors from the stag barracks, yet he didn't quite know what to call him. Some of the other bachelors called him Shorty behind his back and Chorizo to his face. The latter sounded too personal, even vulgar, yet Gabriel did not want to offend him with Shorty either, so he decided to draw him out.

“I'm Gabriel, and this is my brother Gus.”

He introduced himself as Chori, a blend of both nicknames.

Physically he had an even more imposing presence than Victor. Despite being shorter than either Victor or Gus, he was even stockier and more muscular, with dark skin that seemed to compress his height while at the same time augmenting his bulk. And whereas Victor always made an effort to be the center of attention, Chori stood out naturally.

Having already heard that they had been kicked out of the pool, he asked for a firsthand account, listened quietly, and then asked, “So what happens now?”

Gabriel answered, “Now we just hang around here, I guess.”

“You could go sneak back in next Saturday. We all look alike to that lifeguard.”

Gabriel shrugged indifferently, but he could tell that the incident at the swimming pool still bothered Gus, who
said, “In that case I'll go back and slip something in his Coke.”

“Whoa! I just meant go back and behave. That includes keeping away from the local Delilahs.”

“Or maybe I'll go rip off a store or two.”

Chori said nothing and simply shook his head to suggest that some people never learn. When Gus saw this, he repeated the threat with a more menacing undertone, as if someone had called his bluff.

The idea frightened Gabriel a bit but also intrigued him. “That's one place I wouldn't mind picking.”

But the instant Gabriel mimed a swift grabbing motion, Chori made an even quicker one, cuffing his wrist with a thumb and forefinger. “Sure, and you know what they'd love? To pack you and put you away in the freezer section.”

“I heard it's not that hard,” said Gus.

“Being in the shade for a season or two?” Chori sounded like someone who knew a thing or two about jail time.

“No, stealing. You make eye contact with the clerk until he gets uncomfortable and looks away.”

Chori made a timeout sign with his hands. “Whoa! First of all … did you hear that from your buddy Victor?”

“Why?” Gus's tone was tantamount to an outright admission.

“Because looking at clerks and managers just gives them an excuse to get you into a conversation, hoping to trip you up.”

“But Victor said—”

Chori nodded immediately. “I knew it was him! I'll bet he said that if you look a salesclerk in the eye he'll figure you have nothing to hide.”

“It makes sense.”

“Maybe, but that's also why so many people get popped. Besides, that doesn't work on a good store manager.”

“So what do you do?” asked Gabriel. “Avoid looking?”

“That looks just as guilty. You act like someone else caught your attention. Zoom in on a nice girl and pretend to check her out. I'll bet even the manager looks in her direction. And once he looks, he's locked. The window's open for just a few seconds.”

“What about hidden cameras?”

“In that two-bit town? They'd be lucky to have the old-fashioned kind. I mean, the really old-fashioned kind, the ones with the gunpowder flash.”

By now Gabriel wanted to examine every angle. “What if the clerk's a girl?”

“Then you pretend you're gay and check out a guy, I guess.”

“But how do you know she'll find the guy good-looking?”

“Jesus, Gabi, do you want a detailed map for every possibility? Can't you see what he's getting at? Just don't steal anything.”

“Listen to your brother, instead of that neighbor of yours.” Chori gazed absently at the horizon to let them know he was done with the topic.

“Come to think of it,” said Gabriel, “we haven't seen Victor lately. I don't think he's even our neighbor anymore. I mean, his old man still gives a serenade or two, but I haven't heard Victor going out to bring him inside.”

“He stayed at our barracks for a while,” said Chori. “But he missed his mommy's tortillas.”

“I heard a contagious disease was going around the barracks. Is that why he left?”

“He moved in right in the thick of it. Naturally we couldn't let him leave until he was cured. Otherwise he would have brought the damn plague to his own house.”

Their eyes widened as Gus asked, “Was it that bad?”

“Was it contagious?” Gabriel added.

“You mean you didn't know?” Chori started to approach them but then deliberated. After a moment he continued cautiously until he stood inches from their faces. Then he exhaled audibly.

Gus tried his best not to flinch, while Gabriel was simply too terrified to breathe.

Chori finally broke the tension with a good-natured laugh. “Yeah, something went around, and everyone caught it. It was crabs. They swept through like a flu bug, except these bugs had real legs.”

“Crabs!” said Gabriel. “Wow!” Around Victor he might have masked his amazement to appear unfazed, but he felt more spontaneous around Chori. “Who got it first?”

“Who knows. That herd stampeded through those barracks so fast we couldn't keep track.”

He described the bachelors' routine of taking turns on the cots by the windows. The rotation assured everyone of an occasional breeze, but it had also fanned the wildfire. Anyone whose standards of hygiene went beyond changing the sheets was teased as a
señorita
, and the next evening he might find a mint and a feminine napkin on top of his cot.

“I think a son picked it up at a whorehouse and passed it on to his father. Then it was brother to brother, until finally it was every man for himself. There was even this old-timer who had checked in his equipment, put it in mothballs ages ago, well,
he
got it! At least with him those
chatos
were easier to track down, what with his white hair.”

He went behind a sapling and pretended to hide behind it. Its bark, as pale as a poplar, was a striking contrast to his dark skin, and Gabriel had to laugh at his pantomime of fugitive pubic lice.

“So that's why Victor's going back to his parents' place?” asked Gus.

“Actually, it's because he ended up as the exterminator. He was the new guy, so we handed him the flit can.” He pretended to pump a bug sprayer. “We stole some pesticide from the grower and diluted it, but it was still potent stuff. Then each night we stripped and lined up while Victor sat on a chair and sprayed us.”

“Did it work?” Gus asked.

“Wiped them out, along with every last sperm in every swinging
chorizo
. The old-timer even suggested we shouldn't crank out kids for a year or two. Otherwise they might end up half my height and with extra arms.” Chori grinned. “They'd probably make great pickers, though.”

“No wonder Victor hasn't told us what happened,” said Gabriel.

“If you had to spray other guy's crotches up close, would you?”

“It must have been embarrassing.”

“He was the low man on the totem pole. Besides, a little humility never hurt anyone, especially him.”

“I don't know much about humility,” said Gus as he pulled up the gunny sack, placed a few rocks and empties inside, and then lowered the rope for an unsuspecting sucker. “But if it's about embarrassment, I'm your man. I'll tell you all you need to know.”

V
ictor showed up at their shack that same day with an enticing offer for Gus. “I just saw a couple of college girls on the other end of the camp,” he said through the screen. “Let's go check them out.”