Far Away in Mexico
msmooseberry
Summary:
after parting ways
Notes:
A translation of В далёкой Мексике by Vjht
Chapter 1
Chapter Text
Daniel was talking to his mother on the phone standing in the living room that was bathed in the rays of July sun. The Reynolds' house had hardly changed since he came here six years ago. Same pictures on the walls, same books on the shelves, same furniture and floor lamps – Grandma and Grandpa were rather conservative and didn't like changes. Then again, neither did Daniel. As long as nothing changed he could pretend he was a figurine inside of a snow globe, a fly stuck in a piece of amber, a fish trapped in the aquarium – time seemed to have stopped here, and Daniel didn't want it to resume its course.
He always thought that as long as everything stayed the same Sean could come downstairs any minute, go sit in the armchair in front of the fireplace and open his sketchbook. He would look at the scenery out of the window, moving his pencil over the paper. He would fall deep in thought, squint, biting at the tip of the pencil, and add more details here and there. Or ask Daniel to do the dishes or tidy up his room. Or simply smile, put a hand on his shoulder, and ask, "How're you doing, little wolf? Feeling better?" Daniel would give him a wide grin and answer, "Yes, Sean, the cough is almost gone already. Let's have a snowball fight outside!"
But Sean was far away in Mexico.
"The car is wicked, Mom," he was saying into the speaker. "Thanks for buying it for me all together, but really, you shouldn't have splurged on such an expensive gift… No, I love it, and Chris loves it even more, you should see him!"
Through the glass doors he watched Grandpa, who had visibly advanced in years, slowly pushing the lawnmower. Daniel waved at him.
"Yeah, okay, I'll pass it on to Sean… No, Puerto Lobos is still on radio silence – no internet, no phone service. But it's safe for him there, Mom, you know FBI have eyes and ears everywhere. I'd love to chat with him too. You have no idea how much I miss his voice, but it have to be just letters for now. Yes, as soon as the tracker is gone I'll go down to Mexico through Arizona. And before then I don't think you should go to him either, you could be watched… Oh, Grandma just returned!"
The front door opened and Claire came in. With time she got thinner and was moving much slower than before. Her hair appeared to have turned whiter too, if that was even possible. Her strictness melted away and all that was left was her love for her grandson.
"Look, Daniel, Sean sent you a letter," she said, giving him the white envelope.
"I'll give her the phone," he said, taking it. "Tell everyone I said hi! I miss them all very much. And I miss you, Mom. Bye."
He passed his cell to Grandma and started studying the envelope. It had a yellow stamp on and their address in big bold letters:
Daniel Diaz
c/o Mr. & Mrs. Reynolds
102 Evergreen St.
Beaver Creek, OR
USA
Daniel opened it and took two polaroids out. One was a shot of the beach in Puerto Lobos, the other had Sean smiling at the camera with the same beach in the background. He looked almost the same as Daniel remembered seeing him last, the only difference was the little mustache and a thin beard adorning his face.
Grandma finished talking with Karen and looked at Daniel. He waved his hand and the pictures came flying her way one after another. She took them without a hint of surprise and walked over to the couch to look at them more closely.
Being a devout Christian woman, Claire knew that her younger grandson was a special boy. She realised it six years ago when he used his incredible power to lift the cupboard that had fallen on Stephen. Since then she believed that Daniel's power was a gift from God and never searched for answers about its origin, cause or purpose, because the Lord works in mysterious ways. Daniel was growing into a wonderful person, attending every Sunday service with her, praying at the altar at length. Sometimes she saw his tears – a bad person would never shed tears at moments like that. He missed Sean, she and Stephen missed him too. The older boy did nothing wrong, he took care of his little brother when both were suffering from grief and hardships, and he did it well. She often prayed for him, wishing him health and happiness in Mexico.
The envelope was still heavy. Daniel shook it, finding something else inside. He tipped it over his palm and watched the white sand trickle down into it. Sean sent him some sand from Puerto Lobos, like he usually did.
'I miss Sean so much, I shouldn't have left him,' Daniel thought, studying the sunlit lawn, and went upstairs.
"Daniel, has Wolfie come back yet?" Claire asked from the armchair.
"I haven't seen him." He shook his head.
"That's strange, he's never stayed out for so long."
"Dogs get like that sometimes." Daniel shrugged. "Once he gets hungry, he'll come running back."
Grandma nodded in agreement.
"Sean looks great," she said, looking at the picture. "Mexico has been really good for him. He is a wonderful boy, it's a shame it had to turn out this way."
She always said that when she read his letters and looked at his pictures, and Daniel agreed. But he missed having Sean by his side. Only after they had parted ways did Daniel understand what an important role Sean played in his life.
He remembered how at the border Sean leaned over the steering wheel after seeing the police cars, utterly exhausted and not knowing what to do. He remembered him saying that he was sorry for his mistakes, that he had tried his best and that he was so proud of Daniel, just like Dad would've been. And that Daniel could make his own rules now.
So Daniel did. He made the right, grown-up decision, his first completely independent one. Sean had no future in America, his only way out was to live in Mexico, he wanted to go there and Daniel wanted to go there too, for a while. But Sean brought him up to be a good person, a law-abiding American citizen who had nothing to do in another country, his life was here, with his relatives. He was friends with Chris, went to school, lived in a big house, got a car for his birthday this spring. Sean said Dad had been proud to live in this country. Daniel had no future in Mexico.
"Promise me that you will always do the right thing, okay?" Sean told him. "Be smart, like you already are."
"I don't want them to separate us," Daniel said in reply. So he separated them himself, jumping out of the car in the last moment. As he lay there on the asphalt littered with broken glass, he watched Sean driving away. "I hope you'll be happy in Mexico!"
Now Sean was somewhere in another country…
"Grandma, I'll be in my room," he said, climbing the stairs. There was time when he lived there with his brother, slept with him in the same bed, horsed around with him after bedtime. Sean calmed him down when he had nightmares, held him close, kept him safe. Daniel really missed it all.
Once Sean settled in Mexico, he wrote to him every week, sometimes sending only pictures, but he always put white Mexican sand in the envelopes. He never complained, never said he was having a hard time, but between the lines Daniel could feel his panic. He could feel that his brother was struggling – at a new place, in a foreign country, without him. At least Sean knew Spanish, that helped him to fit in.
Each letter was a cause for celebration and made Daniel extremely happy. He showed them to Grandma and Grandpa and in the evenings they read them aloud together by the fire. Daniel cried from sadness, guilt and happiness – wishing that his brother was with him, regretting that he was in another country because of him, and believing that he would eventually sort everything out. He made it to Puerto Lobos, started restoring Dad's repair shop, met the neighbours, he even mentioned that Cassidy came to visit him one time…
The letters were coming for three whole months, but in October they stopped.
Daniel couldn't understand why his brother wasn't writing to him anymore. He sent him letters every day, first asking questions, then trying to come up with reasons why, then demanding answers and raging because of lack of response, and finally begging for a reply. But he never got one. They didn't know what to think, Daniel was completely devastated.
And by Christmas Sean's letters started coming again. The handwriting was unsteady at first, but with time it got better. Sean told them he had been very sick and couldn't even hold the pen properly, but he recovered and everything would be the way it had been before. When they got the first letter after such a long break the Reynolds celebrated it grander than Christmas. And thanked God Sean was alright.
One evening, about a year after Sean started living in Mexico, Cassidy came to their house. Grandma didn't want to let her in, argued with her and threatened to call the cops. But Daniel was home, he heard the yelling and came down.
"Cass!"
He ran out onto the porch and hugged her tightly. Grandma couldn't believe her eyes.
Daniel never liked Cass – Sean gave her too much attention in California and it made him mad. Later he realised though that it was just stupid childish jealousy. Cassidy pissed him off then, but now he was hugging her with face wet from tears. She smelled like trains, and roads, and weed and something that he could only describe as 'her'.
"I missed you so much, Cass!"
"Oh, Daniel, I missed you too." She smiled, hugging him back and stroking his hair. "You grew up so much!"
"You can come inside, young lady," Claire suggested with little enthusiasm. She saw what was happening with her grandson.
"No, thank you, Mrs Reynolds," Cassidy replied. "I'll talk to him outside, if you don't mind. Daniel, will you walk with me?"
As they were going down the street, Daniel was telling her about his life, about his dog Wolfie who he got for Christmas from Grandma and Grandpa, about his school, about Chris… Anything to put off the moment when she would start telling him about herself, and about Sean. Although he wanted to hear about him more than about anything in the world.
"Daniel..."
That was it. He looked at her, dropping her hand.
"Do you know already that Sean is?.."
His body went numb.
"Dead."
Daniel was silent. He watched her with eyes open wide and cheeks hot from tears that were streaming down.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, it's so not my style."
She reached inside her backpack and took out an old wrinkled newspaper.
"He was killed, Daniel, last October."
"No, Cass, Sean is alive!" he suddenly screamed. "He's alive! He sends me letters!"
"Daniel!" she shouted, reaching for him. But the invisible force pushed her away. The same force whose hit she barely survived at Merrill's house.
"Sean is alive! He's alive!" Daniel was yelling. His face was twisted in a grimace as he sobbed. "Get lost! I don't want to see your face again! Ever!"
She hurried away, nudged by Daniel's power that felt like strong gusts of wind. Her pink hair was blown around, her guitar dangling awkwardly behind her back.
"Sean is alive!" Daniel cried, standing in the middle of the road, and couldn't stop. "He's alive..."
At his feet lay the tattered paper in Spanish.
Once in his room, Daniel turned on the laptop. Opened the graphic editor, then the folder titled 'Sean'. In there were numerous edits of his brother, alone and with different people, beach backgrounds and pictures of eye patches and prosthetic eyes. He took a polaroid from the drawer, and a jar of white sand. Deep in the desk cabinet was the five-year-old paper, opened on the page that read:
Los jóvenes están muriendo
Un residente local, Sean Díaz, fue asesinado en su casa, tenía 17 años.
The paper was chewed on one side and splattered with blood.
"Sorry, Wolfie," Daniel said, letting out a heavy sigh. "I got scared that someone would see it and overdid it."
Leaning over a blank sheet of paper, Daniel took a pen. Today his big brother was going to write him another letter.
He started, immitating Sean's handwriting:
Hello, Grandma Claire and Grandpa Stephen! Hi, my little cub Daniel! Wolf brothers are always together, even if they are so far apart! I'm doing great, the weather in Mexico is wonderful, the ocean is warm, and there isn't a cloud in the sky, it's impossible to be outside at noon. The repair shop is thriving, I'm making a lot of money, and I terribly miss you all...
Chapter 2
Summary:
the wolf that was left behind
Notes:
The author of the original added another chapter, so I translated it as well. :) It's Sean's side of the story, his thoughts and feelings right after the events at the border.
Chapter Text
'I'm not hurting anyone else!'
Fuck, it sucks so much, I can't believe it happened. Thanks, little cub, for ditching me. Of course you didn't want to hurt anyone else, anyone except me, as always…
I never imagined you would leave me of your own accord, but the signs were there already when we got separated last February after another one of your incidents. You let Jacob take you to Haven Point so easily and quickly, without even checking if your big bro was still alive or maybe needed help. I was lucky that glass shard got only into my eye, not an artery, in which case I would've surely died of blood loss while my super independent brother was fucking around elsewhere. And in those two months that I spent in hospital in California you recovered from the shock and lived with your future mommy Lisbeth in Nevada, hanging out with the local kids and doing miracles for the crowd. Why did I even come to get you? You were perfectly happy! As I watched those sheep from above, cowering at their shepherd's feet, I wanted to save you from the fate of a pet-angel, from the reverend's lies… And yet, no matter what, I did the right thing when I got you out of there.
'I'm sorry, Sean, I have to go.'
You may be still a kid but you were old enough to put two and two together, to think of all the perks and inconveniences and realise that Mexico is a dead-end, it has nothing to offer. There are no friends, no relatives, the comics are different, the language is different, the only thing that would've been the same was your nagging older brother who never stopped with his boring lectures. The older brother who was unfairly called a criminal and a murderer, who willingly and unwillingly carries the heavy burden of the consequences of your outbursts, and who ended up being unwanted, cast across the border into this dump, this shit hole, with no means of going back.
'Don't turn back for me.'
How could you, little cub? I did everything for you! Do you think I wanted to go to fucking Puerto Lobos? (Sorry, Dad!) You think I wanted any of it – dropping out of school, leaving all my friends, and Lyla, leaving Seattle to live in the middle of nowhere? What the fuck am I supposed to do in Mexico alone? I didn't deserve this, I never killed anyone, never robbed anyone… Okay, I stole some food from convenience stores and worked at a weed farm. But that's hardly enough to get a lifetime of exile and solitude. Why did you do this to me?! I would've expected it from anyone but you, little brother.
Bienvenido a México
My first impulse is to go back, to try and convince you to get in the car. But it's impossible, there are too many cops and without your power there's nothing I can do against them. Without your power I am completely helpless! And thinking about it really hurts – am I really that useless without you? All I'm good at is wandering around the woods, sleeping at river banks and in chilly abandoned cabins, stealing food and trimming weed buds all day long. When you really got a hang of your power I started being a burden. It's like you picked the moment when you knew I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop you on purpose. But then why didn't you just leave me at the police station? Why did you destroy it and knocked out the cops? When exactly did you decide that we need to part ways, back then or when you saw the cordon at the border? I want to ask you so many questions but I'll never get any answers. Thanks for at least getting me across the border, without your power I would've never made it, and going to prison must be worse than this.
The desert around me is endless – there used to be two of us against the world, and now I'm alone. I feel no better than a boulder that lies on the dry ground, a tumbleweed that crosses the road every once in a while, a white blinding sun that shines mercilessly from above. I drive, drawing a line across the dull rocky-sandy canvas, but unlike a drawing that can be corrected with an eraser and started from scratch, my life cannot. Just a little while ago I was telling you that I would give anything to go back to Seattle, to last year, and prevent Dad's death. Now all I want is to go only several minutes back to change your mind, but I can't rewind time.
The emptiness inside me grows every minute, it doesn't let me breathe and I feel dizzy. I get out of the car and throw up the remains of Mom's breakfast onto the sand. But the emptiness doesn't become absolute, there's no sense of relief. My mind continues being tormented by three harpies – disappointment, despair and disdain – they claw at my insides with their sharp talons, and feast on my still beating heart. Why is everything so fucked up in my life? What did I do to deserve this?
Do you remember how just the other day the three of us were walking to our special spot in the canyon at dusk? You were chatting with Mom and I was lighting the way, then we watched three lanterns float up into the sky. You made them dance above our heads and I imagined that those lanterns were us – you, me and Mom. Completely alone in the darkness, but always close by, like little beacons of light. I thought that even if Mom's lantern left one day, the two of ours would stay together, no matter what. And today all of them went out once and for all.
Why did you leave me, Daniel? I don't need Mexico without you!
But why am I complaining, it's only natural. You ditched me because I ditched everybody else. First I didn't call Lyla back – I'd promised we would stay best freaking fighters forever, but never called her even once. I made up excuses, like not wanting to drag her into our problems or make her worry about us too much, then I didn't do it because the cops could track us. Now there's nothing that can stop me from calling her from the nearest telephone booth. I may be an asshole, but Lyla is a much better person than me. So much better! I just want to hear her voice. If she tells me to go fuck myself, well, that will be fair. Then again, I couldn't possibly get any more fucked than I already am.
I'm going to Puerto Lobos. The scenery outside the window is plain and boring, with tall cactuses scrapping at the sky. My inner demons have all merged into a single cactus too, it's prickling at my chest and making it hard to draw in every breath. My eyes are stinging and my throat gets blocked no matter how much I drink. Taking another gulp from the flask, I reach my hand out to the right.
"You thirsty, enano?"
Then I remember that you aren't there, but I glance in that direction just in case – what if I was only having a nightmare? Got a heat stroke or passed out at the police station… But you are definitely not there. I sigh and put the flask away. How long will I keep making mistakes like this? You left, and I stubbornly refuse to believe it. It's easier for me to imagine that you are sitting beside me in silence and watching our new homeland through the glass.
You became so serious and quiet lately. You must've been thinking about a lot of things. When exactly did you make that decision? You tore down a huge metal wall, and if it weren't for those two assholes who were eager to shoot at kids we would've long been on this side of the border. We would've been here together, if you didn't jump out of the car. I noticed how carefully you moved the other cars out of the way, trying not to hurt any cops – you never harmed, never maimed anyone, but for some reason you didn't want to go to Mexico anymore.
What happened? Maybe I did something wrong at the border? I told you then to always do the right thing, to be smart and not waste your power. But in a foreign country, if you're a regular teen, with no job and no money, it's hard to always do the right thing. You must've realised that sooner than me. And where does that leave me? Will I be able to survive without you, Daniel, despite everything, or has Sean Diaz become a looser who got used to relying on his little brother all the time? I didn't let you use your power but I always knew that it was there – and it made me feel so much better!
Survival is too big a problem, I need to solve the smaller ones as they come: first I'll get to Puerto Lobos and find Dad's house. I still have 150 dollars in my pocket, they will last for several days at the least.
I almost ran out of water though, I need to get more. I stop at a gas station. On the very outskirts of Mexico the last convenience shop before the border looks like it's seen better days: it's all shabby, with faded walls and lopsided gas pumps from another century and sand piling in the corners. The products on the shelves also look stale and dusty, I won't be surprised if they are all expired. An elderly cashier speaks Spanish, which is still unusual for me, even if this is the third Mexican we come across today. The first two we broke out of a cell at the police station, you busted open the door and let them go. Which reminds me, I should buy you something sweet. Do they sell Chock-o-Crisps?
"Why are you crying, boy?"
"It's okay, sir, I just got sand in my eye."
I buy two bottles of water and some local brand of cigarettes, hoping that they are not complete shit. The Mexican (I'm Mexican now too!) is happy to be payed in dollars, but I don't risk filling up here, the tank is still half full. It might not last until Puerto Lobos, which is around two hundred miles away, but I'd rather stop at a more decent place later.
There is no phone here, so the talk with Lyla will have to wait. Anyway, the only thing I can hope for is moral support – but right now that would be more than enough. Maybe in a couple of years or more Lyla would even come visit me, we would sit on the beach and smoke weed, listening to the waves and talking about everything and nothing at all…
Finn could come visit me too. The pretty boy with dreadlocks and tattoos took us into his found family, got us jobs and always hang around, watching me and touching me casually every now and then, calling me sweetheart and even (jokingly?) confessing his feelings for me. We liked sitting by the lake and watch the sunset together in companionable silence. He once told me the sad story of his life which he never told anyone else, how he used to live with his father and brothers in Montana where they took apart and sold stolen cars. How his dad then ratted his own sons out to the cops not to do jail time, and Finn ended up doing it himself.
He loved me and you, Daniel, but with different kinds of love. You, as a little brother, and me… I felt my heart opening to him after our first kiss. Until this day I can feel the contrast between his hot breath and his cool lips, tender like tulip petals. Yes, Finn could come visit me and change everything. We could probably even live in Puerto Lobos like two guys who are in love would live. If only he wasn't dead.
I didn't let you use your power, Daniel, even when it was crucial to use it I didn't let you, hoping Merrill wouldn't shoot. But he did and splattered your face with Finn's blood. Because of my cowardice and prejudice several months prior Grandpa's leg got badly hurt and Chris was hit by a car. I should've learned my lesson, but it looks like I'm incurably dumb. Everything that happens to me is the punishment for my mistakes, and especially for Finn's death. I decidedly did all I could to stay completely alone.
Before going any further I cut off the patch with a goat's head – the one the drifters sew on my hoodie at the weed farm – I have long forgotten about it, but the cashier kept glancing at my shoulder with clear disapproval. In a superstitious country like Mexico I'd better do without any satanic symbols on my person. I'd rather not get people pissed at me at first glance. What else could trigger them? I have no tattoos, no piercings, and no left eye – they might spare me out of pity. But I should still buy a baseball bat or a knife, just in case. I hope I'll have enough money for that.
I catch the sight of your bag on the back seat. Tears blur my vision again – you crushed my rib cage, Daniel, as easily as you crushed that wall. Tore a hole the size of Oregon in it, which won't heal any time soon, if it ever does. I look through the bag's contents. Hawt Dawg Man comics, Mom's sleeping bag, Chris' and Sarah Lee's letters – I gotta send them back to you with the first letter. David's baseball, the little space traveller, toy snowman – the present I got you at the Christmas market. Brody's hoola girl – the only thing you stole, and the drawing board which got broken when those fuckers beat me up in Nevada, demanding that I said some bullshit and sang them songs in Spanish. Do you think I should've sucked it up and agreed?
I completely forgot, it's Independence Day… My total independence from everythimg – my home country, my friends, my relatives, my past, and even from you, Daniel. I would gladly get drunk right now until I pass out not to think about anything anymore. This is my first time celebrating the 4th of July on my own. I have to find out when Mexicans have a similar holiday here.
"To us, enano! I hope you'll be happy in America..."
I take a sip of warm water that has a distinct rusty taste. The perfect drink to mark this day. Then I light up a cigarette from the new pack. It tastes like shit as well.
Well, hello, Mexico, I'm glad to see you too!