Dia de los Muertos

Elena Vas Dias sat in her dimly lit living room with her feet propped up after a long day of work. A diminutive, pleasant woman, most of her days are spent waiting tables at a popular tourist destination called, The Pink Store, in Puerto Palomas, Mexico. This sleepy border town is just across from Columbus, New Mexico. Puerto Palomas, and particularly, The Pink Store, are well-known spots for local tourists, who can easily cross into the area to purchase authentic Mexican arts and crafts, or find cheap prescription drugs at a local Mexican pharmacy.

"Miguel, can you please clear the table, and wash the dishes, mi tesoro" Elena asked softly. Reading a book on the floor, young Miguel rolled over reluctantly onto his back, and hopped up to help his mother without saying a word. Elena rested her eyes and hummed faintly.

Miguel was always doing as asked, never fussing, or getting into trouble. At only twelve years old, he adored his mother. It was his older brother, Jose Luis, who always seemed to find his way into the wrong crowd. Growing up had been difficult for Elena’s first born. His father had disappeared when he was seven, and Elena, had been forced to work a second shift at a local sports bar named Lulu's to help them get by, leaving Jose with minimal supervision and no fatherly guidance.

Elena had since re-married an American border patrol agent, Carlos Vas Dias, whom she met waiting tables. A Pink Store regular, he often walked down the road for lunch, and an unexpected romance had blossomed. For now, Carlos resided in the U.S. to ensure he could keep his job with Border Patrol, but visited often, and planned to bring Elena and Miguel to the States eventually.

At 20, Jose Luis was still living at home, but trying to make enough money to move to El Paso. His desperation worried Elena. Between drugs, thugs and local gangs, there was no telling what he would do for the opportunity to move across the border permanently.

"All done, mami. Can I go outside and play for now?"

"Si, but be back before it gets dark, and be careful."

Galloping two blocks down from their house on Buenaventura, he made a quick left onto Lerdo, and within a few minutes was walking up to the open window at Nieves Don Felipe with an eager grin. Jose worked at the small ice cream stand part-time, which provided a simple excuse for his mother as to how he earned money towards his long-term goal. Neither Elena, nor her husband believed this was Jose’s sole source of income, but had no proof to the contrary.

"Ah, mi hermano pequeño. Qué pasa? I suppose you think you're going to swipe a couple scoops of that strawberry ice cream again."

"One scoop of strawberry and one scoop of avocado, please," he said cheerfully as his grin widened in anticipation.

As Jose Luis prepared his brother’s ice cream cone, an American boy, only slightly older than Miguel, scampered up to the stand, and interrupted to ask a question. Unfolding a crisp, white piece of paper with a slightly grainy picture in the middle, he held it out for them to see. With great concern, he asked if either had seen his older brother, Pedro. Miguel detected a slight accent that hinted the boy had at least some Mexican heritage or knowledge of the language.

Jose returned to the window immediately after hearing the question, glanced quickly at the paper and responded before Miguel, “Nope, haven’t seen anyone like that around here. We’d certainly remember an American with a face like that. Alright little man, here you go,” he said, handing the ice cream to Miguel.

Without saying a word, the boy turned around, and began jogging back towards the main road as briskly as he had come. Miguel grabbed his ice cream, dug a few cents out of his pocket, tossed them on the counter, and ran after him, nearly losing a scoop in the process. As the sticky mess melted together in the scorching afternoon sun, it oozed down the sides of the cone onto his fingers. Finally, he was within earshot of the boy.

“Hey, kid,” he shouted down the dusty road in the boy’s direction. The young teen spun around, hoping someone he had previously spoken with had recalled something important. Miguel continued, “What’s your name, and why are you looking around here for your brother?”

“It’s Alejandro. The last thing my brother told me was that he was going over the border to try out an ice cream shop in Puerto Palomas. That was three days ago. He hasn’t been back since, so I scanned the best picture I had, grabbed my passport, and told my mom I was going to a friend’s house, so I could walk across the border and canvas the town. Some people on the main drag told me about that shop, so I thought it was worth asking.”

“I don’t understand, aren’t your parents worried about Pedro too,” Miguel asked.

“They are used to him disappearing, and at 19, they say he is old enough to have gone off on his own. They’re fed up with him getting into trouble, and don’t have any inclination to track him down, but I know something isn’t right.” Hoping to help, Miguel thought for a few seconds, then said,

“You know, my mom might be a good person to ask. She works at The Pink Store, and pretty much every American who crosses the border passes through. Maybe she’ll recognize him. And my dad, he’s a U.S. Border Agent, he could have seen him at the crossing.”

On the walk to Miguel’s house, the two boys swapped stories and quickly realized they had a great deal in common. As fast friends, Miguel and Alejandro were nearly inseparable over the next three months. Almost every day, Alejandro crossed the border, and ran to Miguel’s house. In the process he became well-acquainted with both Elena and her husband Carlos, whom he often waved to while walking back. Miguel and Alejandro were constantly brainstorming ideas on Pedro’s whereabouts each day, but were garnering little to no clues about his disappearance.

As months went by, Alejandro became quite hopeless in his search. He had even gone to the police station himself to report Pedro missing, but his parent’s lack of interest made it easy for them to ignore his concern. They also knew Pedro had been in and out of detainment for drugs as a teen, and assumed he had run off to make some fast money or get high, and would turn up eventually.

On October 30th, the two boys met once again. Today, the subject had turned to Halloween. Alejandro casually explained his plans to Miguel,

"Plus, my mom got me one of those rubber masks. I'll just put on black, go to a few houses to get candy and make her happy," he explained unenthusiastically. He hadn't been up for much since his brother’s disappearance, despite his mother’s pleas for normalcy.

"So you don't paint your face," Miguel asked, “I thought there was face painting.”

"Some people do, or they might dress up like specific characters or people. It's really supposed to be about trick-or-treating and scaring people with monsters, zombies, ghosts and stuff."

"No offense, but that seems a little strange," Miguel replied. "In Mexico, death isn't viewed as scary, just as a continuation of life. That reminds me, I can’t meet Monday or Tuesday, the 1st and 2nd are Dia de los Muertos. That is a holiday here, the Day of the Dead. We acknowledge those who have died, and invite them to return to us for a visit. We usually reach out to Jose’s father. He was killed before I was born."

"No offense,” Alejandro mimicked. “But that seems weird to me. Does that ever work," he asked skeptically, “contacting the dead I mean.”

"Honestly, it's mostly about the celebration of their life. We pray for them, paint our faces, wear colorful costumes, and have a small parade to our family graves. Then we spend the day sharing memories, singing songs, and eating favorite foods of that spirit. We also build altars in their honor and decorate them with pictures, candles, incense, and flowers, " Miguel explained,

"My mother has grown marigolds around our home for years just for this day every year. She sells baskets of them to the town so that people can grab handfuls to participate. We use them to decorate our shrines, and toss them in the parade to the cemetery. Their bright orange hue is meant to attract their spirit to us. So is the food."

Alejandro stared blankly, thinking how strange the tradition seemed, and then his thoughts turned to his brother. Was Pedro already dead? Maybe they just didn’t know it. Miguel could tell Alejandro was thinking about his brother when he started tearing up. The two sat in silence as Alejandro pondered for nearly a minute before speaking.

“Could I come? To Dia de los Muertos, I mean? I can join the parade, and visit the cemetery to build my own altar for Pedro on Tuesday,” Alejandro said earnestly.

“But Pedro isn’t dead,” Miguel responded, trying to stay optimistic.

“Even if he isn’t, he’s still missing, and I still want his spirit to feel invited to return. I’ll bring my own food and his picture and stay out of your family’s way. I won’t bother anyone at all.”

Miguel was surprised at the request, but wanted to help his friend cope with his missing brother. “Let me talk to my mother, and see about the 2nd. I don’t think it will be a problem. Stop by my house after you're done with school on Monday, and I can tell you everything you'll need for the following day.”

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By Monday night, everything was settled. Tuesday morning, Alejandro skipped school, and the boys sat in Miguel’s room, painting each other’s faces with black and white paint. Finishing just before the parade, they scrambled to gather everything, and ran out to where most people had lined up already.

As it began, Alejandro followed Miguel's every step, grabbing large handfuls of marigolds to toss, and generally enjoying himself while admiring the colors and meaning behind the event. At the cemetery, Miguel helped him build and decorate his shrine, and then Elena led a prayer for Pedro.

Just as dusk was setting in, Carlos, who had been working at the border since that morning, jogged up looking concerned and pulled Alejandro aside. Before Miguel could ask, he took Alejandro by the arm, wrapped his other hand around his right shoulder and gently guided him out of the cemetery.

At the Border Patrol station Carlos reunited Alejandro with his parents, and left the room. Later that evening, Carlos finished his shift, and stopped in to see Elena and the family.

Eager to know what happened to Alejandro, Miguel quickly began questioning his father, fearing the worst for his friend.

“Papi, what happened? Where’s Alejandro? Why did you take him away? Is he in trouble?”

“I took Alejandro to be with his parents. Mexican Border Patrol found a body in the desert outside of town this morning. It was badly decomposed and had no identifying features. I recognized part of a facial tatoo from the photo Alejandro had shown us and they contacted his parents. They were able to identify him and verified it using dental records.”

In utter shock, Miguel’s crushing empathy took over as he cried for his dear friend.

“It will all be ok, mi tesoro, Alejandro’s prayers have been answered today.” Elena said, clutching him tightly. “Don't you see babi, his brother's spirit; it did come back to visit him after all.”