Whether because of the alcohol or marijuana or both, I don't think I dreamt on that first night in Mexico. Rather, I found myself in that stage of sleep where you can't be sure whether you're awake or dreaming.
There was the hum of an engine lulling me back to sleep with the help of gentle bumps in the road anytime my eyes had the nerve to open; there was light, but that further urged my eyelids to shut again.
Was it a road trip with Sarah? I remember when we drove to Yellowstone, the way her mouth fell open, drool hanging from her bottom lip as she slept in the passenger seat. We would take pictures of each other with an old polaroid camera whenever one of us dozed off on the long, sleepy roads, fighting playfully over the photographs until we had to stop the car to make love in the backseat.
Her amber hair waved in the wind. The sun glanced off of her golden skin. She put her feet on the dash, toes wiggling, my eyes drawn to her long legs that ended in a pair of denim shorts.
She was so free.
She--
My body lifted into the air, crashing back down in a heap of blankets over a massive bean bag chair. Hurling off the blanket that was covering my face, I let the morning--or was it afternoon?--sun say hello to my hangover. My eyes protested, sending an urgent message to my head that read,
Pound on his fucking temples!
The rays of light poured in through the thin curtains drawn over the windows in the rear of the bus's interior.
The bus. I was still on the bus, and it was moving.
Valeria was nowhere to be found as I scanned the snoozing bodies scattered around the various couches and mattresses. A few of the snorers were completely enveloped in blankets, making them look more like corpses at first glance, and I didn't dare move the covers to identify the bodies.
Where was she? Where the hell was I?
Smoke drifted lazily through the cabin from the front, and my nose immediately identified it as Alejandro's weed. I stood, ready to get some answers, and immediately regretted it. My stomach swirled and screamed at me to sit back down and shut up before it evacuated whatever greasy food was inside of me.
Hell, how much had I drunk the night before?
I pushed through the nausea, stumbling down the aisle until I plopped into the seat just behind Alejandro. He seemed to be perpetually driving this bus with a roach in his mouth. For some reason, I had an insane desire to smoke his joint. That and chug all the water available to me.
"Alejandro," I muttered, my voice hoarse. "
Water.
Do you have water?"
"Ayy, Ricardo," Alejandro greeted me sleepily, making my stomach lurch as he took his eyes off the road to glance back at me. "Here you go, bro."
He tossed back a half-empty bottle; I emptied its contents down my throat.
"I finished it," I croaked, burping loudly. "I'm sorry."
"No problem, there's more in the back where you were sleeping."
Ah, of course.
I rested my head against the window, shutting my eyes and taking deep breaths, desperate to not have to ask him to pull the bus over so I could vomit.
The young man must have been watching me in the wide mirror above him, because suddenly the joint was in front of my face, a thin trail of smoke climbing until it disappeared, his scrawny arm stretched back behind his seat.
"Smoke it, amigo," he said. "Just a little hit. It will help."
Doctor's orders, I guess.
I carefully pinched the joint from his fingers, taking a little puff and holding the smoke in my lungs. If I coughed, I was sure I would puke. But the smoke came out smooth in a deep exhale, and slowly my stomach began to settle and the pounding in my skull became a gentle tapping.
"Gracias," I said, passing it back to him, stunned by how much better I was already feeling. "Where is she?"
"Who?"
"The girl."
He raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror.
"The girl! Valeria... Val!"
"Just wanted to see if you remembered her name. She's up top," he said with a smile. "She gets up early."
"What time is it?"
Alejandro leaned forward, looking up at the sky as the bus drifted in the road slightly. "Almost ten, I think. We're nearly to Puerto Penasco."
The sea was visible out of the windshield to our right.
"Right. OK." I tried to stay calm. "Is this like a day trip? How far are we from Ensenada?"
"Ensenada?" Alejandro laughed. "We're not even Baja anymore, bro. We're in Sonora, not the peninsula. I've been driving since before the sunrise."
Suddenly, I didn't feel so good again.
"Alejandro," I said, my lower lip quivering. "What the fuck!?"
"Rich!" Junior's voice made me yelp and jump out of my seat, eliciting laughs from some of the bodies that were now semi-awake. "How'd you sleep, bud?"
Junior was laying on the couch to my right, a thick blanket was thrown over his body. He gently slipped out from under the covers and got up for a stretch, perfectly fine with or completely unaware of the fact that we had driven into mainland Mexico while we slept.
