Nissan Genesis

The air was wavy above the concrete outside. The fan inside the garage creaked back and forth as it did its best to cool down the area. Not even the garage floor was cool enough against my skin. It was hot enough that the twins weren’t huddled together on the same step like they usually were. Carmen was on the step above, leaning forward as her sister, Ana, leaned backwards, both watching their mother work on the wreck of a car. She had purchased it from Edén’s Junkyard from the scrappy youth that worked there a couple days ago. He only charged her a couple hundred dollars, but something about his missing-teeth-smile told me she was getting ripped off.

“It’s okay,” she had said, shrugging my concern off when I told her. “I like a challenge.” I knew then I couldn’t say anything to change her mind. When Esperanza decided on something, she wouldn’t be swayed.

“Adán, the ten millimeter,” she called, and I watched as the dog, his nails clicking against the concrete, the wrench in his mouth, and his tail wagging, ran past. “Good boy.” She scratched at his ears before turning her attention back to the wreck of a car. He trotted up to me and laid on the floor next to me.

“What do you think?” It took me a moment to realize Esperanza was talking to me, but she was looking at me like she expected an answer.

“I think that you got ripped off, Espera. It’s a bucket of bolts.” I shrugged, and she sighed. “Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel?” 

“For the afternoon,” she agreed, with no little reluctance. She pushed back from the car and stretched before she walked over to me. I had to look up at her, haloed in the light of the sun. “It’s getting too hot for Adán and the girls.” I glanced over at the twins, who both looked more bored than hot. They shrugged, and we went inside

I had been staying with Esperanza and her twins for a while now. We were old friends, as far back as we could remember, and we had been living together for almost as long.

“I think it’ll be fixed before the week is done.” Esperanza took down a glass from the cupboard and filling it up at the tap. “And then we can get out of here, girls.”

“Where will we go?” Ana looked up at her mother as the woman set a glass down in front of her. 

“Anywhere. Everywhere!” Esperanza set a glass in front of Carmen, her eyes bright. “We won’t be trapped here anymore. We’re not going to rot in this house or dry up in the desert. There’s a whole world out there.”

“Are you coming with us?” Carmen asked, hopeful and oh-so naïve.

“I don’t think I can, kid.” I ruffled the girl’s hair. “It’s complicated, don’t worry about it.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her and Ana exchange exasperated glances. 

It started to sprinkle as the sun set over the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant yellows and oranges, and turning the clouds pink even as the droplets came down. It was finally cooling down, so the twins were running around behind the house, playing with Adán. From my spot on the back porch, I watched them giggle and dance around as Adán tried to herd them. I had been told he did that from time to time, but only ever to the twins. His way of keeping them safe, I figured.

“Here.” I looked up to see Esperanza handing me a glass of iced tea. I nodded in thanks. “Do you think I can fix it?”

“The car?”

“What else?”

“Espera, you’re comfortable here. The kids are comfortable here. Why would you pack everything up and leave?”

“There’s something else out there.” When I looked up, Esperanza was staring out, not at her daughters, but at the horizon, at the setting sun. “Something more. I’m leaving because I want to. Because I need to.”

“Need to?” I set the iced tea down and turned my entire body to look up at her. “You need to leave to find yourself?”

“I’m fixing the car,” Esperanza said shortly, walking off the porch towards her children. I watched her go, and sighed. 

The next day, Adán, Carmen, and I were sitting on the driveway, letting the early morning heat of the desert sink in and permeate the silence rising around us like the early morning dew from the baked sand. That silence was broken by Ana running up.

“Mom got the engine working!” she cried, and Carmen jumped to her feet, a grin growing across her face.

“The wheels and stuff are next, right?” She bounced on the balls of her feet, and Ana nodded.

“Yeah, and then we can leave!”

“The bucket of bolts has an engine now?” I asked, and Ana nodded energetically. “Your mom’s pretty good at this stuff, huh?”

“She’s been doing it since before we were born,” Ana said with all the childlike idealism I had found her to be capable of.

“And you think she’ll be able to get the car working completely?” I felt a little sick to my stomach.

“Of course,” Carmen scoffed. “She’s a genius at this type of thing.” Ana tugged at her sister’s arm and the two of them scurried off towards the garage, Adán following them. I was left with the silence and fast-disappearing dew.

The next day, the engine broke. I heard it from where I was trimming Adán’s nails inside, and a minute later, Esperanza stormed in, tossing a grease-covered rag away with vitriol. Adán and I jumped as her door slammed shut, and a couple minutes later, she came out in a new, grease-free t-shirt.

“Did you mess with it?” she demanded.

“No, Espera, why would I?”

“Because!” She let out a cry of frustration. “You don’t want me to leave! You want to keep me trapped here, where I’m miserable. You think I won’t make it out there, that I’m dooming my daughters if I leave!”

“I don’t think that,” I tried, but she wasn’t listening.

“You want me to fail. You don’t think I can fix it. You don’t want me to fix it, and so you’re sabotaging me! I have to leave. If I don’t leave, I-” She broke off, covering her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want you to fail, Espera.” I reached out for her hand, turning it over and pressing a kiss to her palm. “What I want is to not be alone.”

“Then come with us.” She dropped down to sit next to me, taking my hand in both of hers. “We don’t have to separate and go our own ways. I don’t want to leave you, just this place.”

“And what if I can’t leave?” I asked as Adán laid his head on my lap. “What if I want to go with you, but I really just can’t?” Esperanza opened her mouth to say something, but that was the exact moment when the twins burst in, Carmen talking a mile a minute about how she figured out what was wrong.

Esperanza pulled away, and Adán went with her. The rest of the day was taken up by the broken engine, so I sequestered myself away in my room. Around noon, Adán came in to join me, and the two of us just sat there.

At dinner, Ana, grinning and covered in grease, informed me that the engine was running smoothly again, and Carmen had been the one to figure out that a fuse was faulty. Esperanza ruffled her daughter’s hair, smiling proudly down at her, and Carmen beamed. My smile felt wan compared to their joy. 

The next day, I laid in bed well into the morning, hearing noises from the garage, but not wanting to investigate. A part of me had always known, deep down, that this day would come. When Esperanza decided something, she couldn’t be swayed. It was the peak of the afternoon when Carmen came, tapping at my door.

“Mom said to come get you so you can say goodbye,” she said quietly, and I swallowed back the tears, mustering a weak smile.

“Alright, kid, I’ll be right out.” Carmen nodded, and left me to heave myself up and out of bed. 

“The car’s done!” Ana exclaimed when I stepped out of the front door, squinting in the sun. It was an exceptionally hot day, and the heat hit me like a wall of bricks. The car was done, and Esperanza was leaning against the driver side door, her eyes fixed on me. She was like a magnet as I walked down the stairs towards her.

“You’re leaving now?” I asked, like I didn’t know they had been packed since Esperanza bought the car. 

“I can’t stay here,” she said softly. “You know I have to leave.”

“I wish you could stay.” Adán nosed at my hand and I allowed him a few pets before I pulled away.

“I can come back,” she offered, and I laughed.

“You can’t. Not after putting all this work into leaving.” 

“That’s not fair.” Her gaze remained fixed on me, even as Carmen and Ana climbed into the backseat, beckoning Adán in after them. “I’ll miss you.”

“And you think I won’t?” She looked away then, and I laughed. “Espera, what else can I do but miss you?”

“You can still come with us.” She already knew my answer, so I didn’t give it, stepping back instead.

“Go. Stop stalling. You know I’ll be there in your memory.” She didn’t speak for a good while, though it seemed like she wanted to. Finally, she opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and then the door was closed, the car started up, and before I knew it, they were driving away towards their future. Civilizations would rise and fall, wars would be fought and won, lives would be lived and died, and I would be there, at that house, forever alone.