By
Mushroom Montoya
When
I was five years old, I was small enough to lie against the back window of our
black 1949 Chevy as my Papa drove up the highway from Albuquerque to Bernalillo
(pronounced burn a leo). We were on our way to visit my cousin, Rose, who was
almost as old as I was. Mama wanted to visit her younger sister, Aunt Elsie, who
was going to have a baby. Papa wanted to drink the Hamms beer he brought with
Uncle Gile (pronounced Ggee le).
As
Papa drove up the highway, I looked to the east at the Sandia Mountain and
imagined it as a giant sleeping bear. From my vantage point, lying above the
back seat, I could see the road ahead and knew when my Papa would reach the
big dip in the road that made my stomach drop. When he drove by the adobe
houses in the Sandia Pueblo, I knew the dip was close. I got down from the back
window ledge and sat in the backseat. I looked ahead and saw the big, lone cottonwood
tree. I closed my eyes, anticipating the dip. The car sunk into the dip. Whooh!
My stomach plunged to the bottom of my gut. That was fun!
As
we entered the old town of Bernalillo, Papa pulled into the Mobil gas station
with the red flying horse. He got out of the car when his friend, Sonny, came
to fill his tank. Sonny turned a crank on the gas pump, and I watched the
yellow pee-colored gas rise up, filling the giant glass bottle on top of the
pump. It stopped when the gas filled up to the number ten. Sonny put the hose
in our car’s gas pipe and opened the car’s hood. I stared at the glass bottle,
watching the yellow pee-colored gasoline disappear as it went down.
My mother talked to my baby brother, who
wiggled in her lap. She turned, asking me to grab a diaper out of the bag on
the back seat. I reached over the front seat to give her one, but she was
looking at the gas pump and didn’t take it from me.
“Aqui
(here), Mama,” I said.
She
turned, “Sientate,” (sit down) she said as she took the diaper. “Cuidad.”
Her
voice was quieter than normal. It scared me a little. I didn’t know why she
told me to be careful. A lone dog barked in the distance. I sat down on the back
seat and looked at the giant glass gas bottle. It was empty. Papa was still
talking to Sonny, who put the hood down with a metallic clank.
“Hay
Dios mio,” my mother said. Her face looked scared. “Why is your Papa taking so
long?” She reached over to honk the horn, but another car came into the gas
station, and Sonny left. My Papa got back into the car, smiling. He turned off
the main street onto a dirt road. I liked the way the car vibrated when my Papa
drove over the dry dirt washboard part of the road. We drove over a narrow
bridge covering a wide irrigation ditch and turned right. I stood up and looked
at the brown water in the ditch until we reached my Aunt Elsie’s house.
Her
Irish Setter mutts were out in front, barking when we pulled onto Aunt Elsie’s
ranchito. They followed our car until it stopped. Their tails were wagging as I
got out of the car. Aunt Elsie came out of her white adobe house, with my
cousin Rose following close behind. Aunt Elsie opened her arms, scooped me up,
and gave me a kiss. The adults went inside.
My
cousin, Rose, asked me to follow her. “One of the cows had a baby,” she said.
“Do you want to see?” I ran after her to the barn. She had to stand on her toes
to open the barn door. We went inside. “Look! It’s standing in the corner,” she
said. We petted the calf for a little
while, and then Rose put her hand in the calf’s mouth. “It’s real soft.” She
took my hand. “Here you do it.”
I
was reluctant, at first. But I let her put my hand in the calf’s mouth. Its
tongue felt really soft as it tried to suckle my fingers. I laughed.
“I
was coming here to feed the calf,” Rose said, “but mama told me to wait until
you got here.” She went to the side of the barn and picked up a big bottle with
a big nipple. “Do you want to help me feed it?” she asked “Here.” She handed me
the bottle. “Hold it up high, so the milk can go down,” she said. We took turns
feeding the calf until the bottle was empty.
“Come
on,” she said. “There’s water in our acequia (irrigation ditch).”
As
we ran over to the acequia, I was distracted by an old red wagon lying next to
it. I walked over to it. “Hey! Rose, what happened to the wheels?”
“I
don’t know. My Papa found it that way.”
I
lifted the wagon onto its side, to make sure that the wheels really were
missing. “I know what we could do with this wagon,” I said.
A
couple of chickens came to see what we were doing. The dogs barked at a truck
that drove along the dirt road.
“What
can we do with it?” Rose asked. “It doesn’t have wheels.”
“Help me put the wagon in the acequia.”
Rose
shook her head. “No. That’s stupid. The wagon isn’t a boat.”
“Help
me put it in and see how far it goes,” I said. We lifted the wagon and placed
it in the water. It floated a long way (in my five-year-old mind). We ran after
it until it sank. “Let’s pull it out and get in and see how far we can go.”
Rose
shook her head again. “It’s too small for both of us,” she said. I took off my
shoes and socks, and she helped me pull the wagon out of the water. “You go
first,” she said. Even though Rose was nine months younger than me, I thought
she was pretty smart.
We
put the wagon into the water. I got in and sat down quickly. “Hey! It’s
working!” I yelled. The wagon floated along the acequia for a few feet before
it sank. The water barely covered the wagon. I stood up. Although my butt was
wet and muddy, I didn’t care. Rose
helped me pull the wagon out of the water. We drained the wagon, put it back in
the water, and Rose got in. We had so much fun taking turns in our makeshift
boat until we heard my mama yell, “Ay! Dios mio!! You two are so dirty. Get
out!”
Brown
muddy water dripped from Rose’s dress as she stood up and got out of the wagon.
We pulled the wagon out of the acequia and put it on the ground. My mother shook
her head and marched Rose and me back to the house. She asked Aunt Elsie to get
the washtub and put it in the kitchen. My mother pulled my shirt over my head
and pulled down my pants and underwear while we were still outside. “Where are
your shoes?” she asked. I pointed to the acequia. “Quick! Go get them!” she
said. She pulled Rose’s dress over her head as I ran nude to get my shoes. She brought us into the kitchen, plunked Rose
and me into a metal tub, and she and Aunt Elsie gave us a bath. After they bathed
us, they made us stay in the house while they washed our clothes and hung them
out on the clothesline. Papa and Uncle Gile were in the living room, smoking
and drinking more beer. Uncle Gile asked me if I wanted a sip of his beer. I
shook my head. “No. It’s yucky!” He laughed.
Aunt
Elsie called us into the kitchen to eat lunch. She gave Rose and me towels to
sit on when we all sat at the table. Rose sat next to me. We weren’t wearing anything
because our clothes were hanging on the clothesline.
Our
clothes were dry, in the arid New Mexico air, by the time we finished eating, and Mama and Aunt Elsie washed the dishes. Mama got me dressed while Aunt Elsie
pulled a dress over Rose’s head. “Playing in your boat was fun, Rose,” I said.
“Yeah. Maybe Papa can fix the holes for next
time,” she said.
Mama
changed my baby brother’s diaper on the couch and said it was time to go. “Why
do you look so worried?” Aunt Elsie asked Mama.
Mama
shook her head. “I don’t know. It feels like something bad is going to happen.
I just need to get home.” Aunt Elsie held my baby brother as we walked to the
car. We said goodbye as I got into the back seat. Aunt Elsie kissed Mama and
handed her my baby brother when Mama got into the car. Mama turned to the back
to look at me. Her face looked scared. I stared at her until Papa started the
car, and then I stood up on the back seat and waved to Rose as we drove away. She
stood next to the dogs waving her hand, as they wagged their tails until we
were around the corner.
“Are
we gonna stop at Grandpa’s?” I asked as we approached Grandpa’s farm.
“Do
you want to stop?” Papa asked Mama.
“No.
We have to get home,” Mama said.
Papa
drove on, turned the corner, and continued down the road. I stood up to see the
water in the wide irrigation ditch as we approached the narrow bridge. Dust
billowed behind our car. As we turned the corner and could see the highway,
Mama yelled, “Hay Dios mio!” pointing to black smoke up ahead. Papa drove to
the highway, turned right, and parked the car across the street from the gas
station. It was on fire. Huge flames were covering the building. Papa opened
his door and ran to the gas station. He left the car door open.
“Get
out and close the door,” Mama said. I pushed the driver’s seat forward and got
out. The fire was so hot, I could feel it on my face. “Get back in the car and
roll up the windows!” Mama yelled. My baby brother started to cry. I closed the
door and cranked the window shut. Mama told me to get in the back. I climbed
over the driver’s seat and stood up on the back seat. I stared out the window.
The flames were bigger than the gas station. The black smoke rose high into the
sky. Papa and the men at the gas station were yelling and running back and
forth into the smoke.
I
heard the sirens and saw a fire truck coming toward us. It stopped in the
middle of the street. The firemen got out and ran toward the gas station. They
were yelling at the men, telling them to get away. “It might explode!” one of
the firemen yelled.
“Oh
Dios mio!” Mama said. She leaned over and honked the horn. My baby brother was
still crying. “Grab me a bottle out of the bag,” Mama said. I turned away from the
window and dug into the diaper bag for a baby bottle that had milk. I gave it
to Mama. “Where is your Papa?” Mama asked, worry lines were wrinkling her face.
She leaned over and honked the horn again before she took the bottle from me.
She put the bottle in the baby’s mouth. “Climb up here and honk the horn,” Mama
said. I climbed over the driver’s side seat and honked the horn.
Papa
and Sonny came running. Papa grabbed the door handle and then he yelled. He
shook his hand and blew on it. “Open the door for me,” Papa said. I pulled up
on the door handle and opened the door a little. Papa slid his hand inside and
opened the door all the way. He pulled me out of the car, shoved the front seat
forward, and put me in the back. He got in and closed the door. Sonny ran
around to the passenger side of the car and opened Mama’s door. Mama got out
and Sonny climbed into the back seat with me. He smelled like smoke.
“They’re
going to let it burn to the ground,” Papa said.
“They
told us to get away from here, in case it explodes,” Sonny said.
Papa
turned the car around and drove down the street where my other grandpa lived. My
baby brother stopped crying when Papa started driving. “Where is your truck?”
Papa asked Sonny.
“Thank
God, I didn’t drive it to work, today. Juan Pablo dropped me off.”
“Do
you want me to take you home?” Papa asked.
“Might
as well,” Sonny said, “I don’t want to be anywhere near here if the gas station
explodes.
“Neither
do we,” Mama said. “Neither do we.”
The fire engine was
the same color as Rosie's boat
