"It is better to travel well than to arrive." - Buddha

Chapter 23

City of Succor

A little east of El Paso is a suburb called Socorro. Only the Rio Grande separates it from Mexico. Socorro is Spanish for "aid" or "help." When used in place names, it usually refers to the Virgin Mary: Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Nuestra Señora del Perpetuo Socorro.

We were finally there, the town where Araceli grew up, the town that succored her through childhood. I finally got to see her parents' house: white picket fence, manicured lawn, cute curtains in the windows, a domestic scene that totally did not fit the image I had drawn up about this fellow traveler.

Free-spirited and bold: that was how I saw her. I knew she would feel stifled in this picture-perfect suburban paradise.

I tried not to think about that. My job was merely to see her arrive home safely. Maybe she would settle down, take care of her aging parents, find a nice man, marry, and have kids. Maybe she would move to the city and take that job with her brother at the bike shop. I could imagine her in a gray jumper, covered head to toe in motor oil. Or maybe she was destined for even greater dreams.

My job was to see her arrive at the end of this journey, not to follow her along her next path in life.

Still, I rarely have to tell the people I meet goodbye. A hug at the end of a successful venture, and I leave on my merry way, a clean break, no tears, no awkward farewells.

I guess I'm not good at saying goodbye.

Sam turned off the motorcycle, letting this quiet residential section of Socorro, Texas, go back to its peaceful lull. Nobody had come out of the house yet, but he heard mariachi music playing from an opened window, dishes clattering, and the mouthwatering smell of cumin and cilantro. Someone was home and cooking what would be a great dinner.

He had no idea what to do next, and Al was no longer prompting him. Araceli still sat behind him, staring at the house, holding her helmet in her arms like hugging a teddy bear. When he looked at her, he saw conflicting emotions: joy at being back home, but fear at falling into an old, familiar rut.

"Well…" She sounded determined for half a syllable, but it trailed off. She pouted at the closed door on the other end of that white fence, reluctant to walk through it. "You're heading off, huh? Mexico still?"

"That's the plan," Sam said with a solemn nod.

"Dangerous. Maybe I can help. I could watch your back—"

"No," Sam cut off, leaving her shocked. "Thank you, really, but I don't want to put you into more danger." He ran a finger down an abrasion on her cheek and watched her eyes flutter closed. "I've done enough damage already."

He climbed off the bike, so she got off too. Sam went to the saddlebags and opened the one with the cash. He reached in, grabbed a fistful of stacks, and handed them to her. Araceli stared at the money in shock.

"Take it, please," he whispered, smiling gently. "Buy yourself a really good car this time, get your mother the best birthday present ever, and go to that music concert you talked about. Make life a little more fun."

"Do you … Do you realize how much that is?" she gawked, whispering in terror.

Sam eyeballed the stacks of hundreds. "Fifty or sixty grand?"

She laughed that he could say it so easily. "I can't take that."

Sam grabbed her hand, flipped it over, and put the money into it. One stack fell to the street. He leaned over and plopped it on top. "My way of saying thanks for saving my life. You deserve more, but I probably need money to buy off people where I'm going."

A single tear ran down her cheek. She gave him a peck on the cheek and put the bills in her purse for the moment. Out from the purse she pulled a paper napkin and a pen. She jotted down something and gave it to him.

"The phone number to a cousin in Mexico. He can help you out, and … and maybe if you ever find some peace in life, he can put you in contact with me."

Right as Sam was about to turn down that offer, the door to the house opened.

"Araceli?" an elderly woman cried out.

She turned, and for a moment Sam saw the excitement on her face. "Mama!" She turned back to Sam, and now her eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you so much."

Al puffed happily on his cigar and bounced on his heels in satisfaction. "Kiss her and ride off into the sunset, Sam."

No need for prompting there! Sam wrapped Araceli into his arms and gave her a kiss he hoped she would remember. Then with her face still dazed and happy, he gave a cool smile, a tip of the head, and straddled the bike.

"Fue divertido viajar con usted, Señorita Araceli de la Rosa. Adiós." It was fun traveling with you, Miss Araceli de la Rosa. Bye.

With a gentle roar from the bike, he rolled away just as Araceli's parents ran into the middle of the road and greeted their daughter with hugs and kisses. Sam turned the bike away from the peaceful street and back toward the highway.

"Such a shame," Al lamented, hovering just behind Sam. "Gorgeous girl! It would've been fun, taking her along with you, two infatuated adventurers riding through the Mexican wilderness."

"I'm just happy to have helped her out," Sam said, smiling to himself. "So, what becomes of her?"

Al entered data into the hand link. "Ah, nice! She takes the money you just gave her, buys a Harley and a station wagon, buys front row tickets to see her idol, the singer Selena, and … oh wow," he muttered with a pout. "It's a good thing she did, because that was the last televised concert Selena performed before she was killed on the 31st of March, a little over a month from now. Damn! Araceli was one of the first to make a hefty donation to the Selena Foundation to help children in crisis. She worked for her brother for a few years, invested in Intel, cashed out before the dot-com bubble burst, and made a very decent return. She took the money to go to college."

"College?" Sam said in surprise.

"Yeah, she's currently attending Texas A-a-a-a … a-ya-ya … anoom…" He whacked the handlink for good measure. "…A&M! Texas A&M University, where … hah, get this! She's studying law with the aspirations of becoming a lawyer. So far, she's top in her class, and she'll be taking the Texas bar exam in July, so things look optimistic for her."

"That's great," Sam said with a relieved smile. He looked at the phone number in his hand. "Someone like Theodore Nyt, some sleezeball lawyer who probably doesn't deserve a second chance: he's not good for someone like Araceli. She's the sort of girl who deserves much better."

Sam released the napkin and let the number fly away with the wind. The Harley continued onward, taking him closer to his final goal: the Mexican border.