Finally, a truck pulls up. The man who steps out is clearly Mexican. he has a large mustache and needs to lay off the burritos. But still, he looked kind.
"Hola, Senorita, what are you doing out here so late?' He asks me.
"Looking for a ride." I respond.
"Where, my dear, are you going?" His English is thickly accented.
"Down, Up, North, South. Anywhere that isn't here."
"I am going to Mexico. I can give you a ride, if there is something in it for me." He says, raising his eyebrows. I hand him a twenty dollar bill. He looks at it, shrugs, and then seems to make up his mind that I can come.
"I am going to get a burrito, senorita, I will be right back. Go in the truck, make yourself comfortable." He says, making the word 'comfortable' four syllables and drawn out. He walks in the gas station general store, and comes back a minute later.
"Aye, no burritos. Maybe there will be another station, yes? Well, why are you leaving this town?"
"I don't like living on a farm." Well that's an understatement. But I don't want to sound like I am complaining.
"Ah, I guessed as much. I said to myself, 'Gusto, maybe she no like living here'. And, it looks as if I was right."
It seems he knew a little more than I thought he would, for a overweight truck-driving Mexican. My heart softens towards him a little, though, when he hands me a burrito as well. I try to pay him back, but he refuses.
"It is a gift." he insists. If that was a gift, I wonder what his kids got at Christmas. I get a mental picture of a bunch of kids unwrapping burritos and laugh a little. We talks a little bit on the ride there. I told him about how life was in Kansas, and my family. I told him all about my sister and how fabulous she was.
He gave me some advice for making it in Mexico.
Fist, learn Spanish (thank god I already knew some from taking it for five years when I was home schooled). Second, he told me to get more tan if I wanted to fit in. and he was right, a swan would have looked dark next to me. Top that with blond hair and blue eyes, and I was a white spot on a black page. I never tanned, though, so I couldn't do much about that. he also gave me one last word of advice:
"Senorita, one more thing. There is a group called the Foxes. Stay away from them all. And if you do see them, it is likely to be the last thing you ever do."
After he said this I fell asleep, listening to the rain and calming swish of the windshield whispers.
