In the Break (16 page)

“Just let me call my parents,” I said for the umpteenth time.

The man was old, probably in his forties, fit, with a thin mustache and large ears. His hair was short and dark. He wore a
suit and tie. “Why did your friend attack a United States agent?”

“She didn’t attack him. She kicked him in the ass because he broke her brother’s sunglasses on purpose.”

“That hardly warrants a federal charge, does it?”

“She’s upset. Her brother’s missing.”

“Yes, that’s right, so you claim.” He cracked his gum and rolled it between his upper teeth and lower teeth.

“That’s right.”

“On this island.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is the island again?”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“South and west of Ensenada.”

“That’s right. And what’s its name?”

“C’mon. Aren’t you bored? I am.”

“Just tell me again the name of the island.”

“La Isla de Los Delfíns.”

“Why isn’t it on any maps?”

(We would find out much later that Jésus had used the common name for the island; the proper name, of course, was on the map.)

“I wouldn’t know.”

I looked at the man who interrogated me. He sat in a chair with a back and armrests. On the table he had a stained coffee
cup with a big chip on the lip. He also had an endless supply of gum, which he chewed with abandon.

“I find your entire story odd. I think your friend, the one who’s supposed to be missing, has drugs. I think you and his sister
were going to meet him along the barrier, where you would then place the drugs in that car and he would join you. You’re going
to tell me your meeting place.”

“I want to call my parents.”

“You’re a car thief. The car you were driving was reported stolen. You have no rights. I don’t care how many television shows
you’ve watched, you’re nothing here, okay? You don’t get shit unless I okay it. Understand?”

I sighed. I knew his drug theory, but hadn’t known that my mother’s car was reported. “Yes, sir.”

“Where are you meeting your friend?”

I’m not sure, I thought.

I sat on a long bench in front of an institution-green picnic table, my mother across from me on its counterpart. I couldn’t
look her in the eye. She was dressed for work, hair done with hairspray, jewelry that was simple yet stylish, and a pantsuit
and low heels. My father was so angry that he wouldn’t come. Evidently my mother had taken the train to San Diego to get me
out. I was held in a detention center for juveniles, a ward of the San Diego Sheriff’s Department. I’d been arrested for grand
theft auto, and my experience so far was nothing like the game!

My mother told me she had reported the car stolen before she realized that I was gone, otherwise she might not have done so.
She wasn’t sure. At any rate, the damage was done.

In a big empty room my mother was the only other human, if you didn’t count the burly guard who blocked the only door. After
being in the hands of law-enforcement people, I was wondering whether or not some of them were human. Many of them were like
pit bulls; once something was in their mind, that was it, end of
story, fuck you. For some people reality and truth have nothing to do with anything. I realized that those kinds of people
exist everywhere, but it just seemed that there was a disproportionate number of them associated with my incarceration.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” my mother said.

I wanted to say, “You’re really crabby when awakened,” but said only, “We didn’t want to bother you.” I couldn’t tell her
about the approaching swell, our expectations of big waves, good surf, a perfect wave. That was just too selfish.

“You did get my message, right?”

“Oh, yes, we heard you. Why … ?” she broke off, looking away toward the ground. When her gaze came back to me she said, “And
you’re sure about Jamie? You’re not lying?”

I looked onto the hard, cold cement floor. There was an old wad of chewing gum hard-melted into a white spot. Suddenly my
nose burned, and I tried not to cry.

“Okay, sorry,” she said, turning away and dabbing her eyes. “But, I mean, you didn’t have to run away.”

“We thought Jamie was going to get arrested.”

“He might have. But that’s better than what happened, isn’t it?”

I looked at my mother. She looked tired, and for the first time I thought of what she must have been like when she was young.
I’ll bet she would have helped her friend out; I’ll bet she would have. “So what happens now?”

“I’m not sure. Jamie injured Frederick. He’s in the hospital.”

“But F attacked him.”

“Use his proper name, please. I know what you kids call him.”

“Whatever. Anyway, Jamie was attacked. He just defended himself.”

“That’s not for us to sort out. When did Jamie get so mean?”

“He’s
not
mean! Not at all.”

“When did he turn so hard?”

“He didn’t, Mom; stuff just kept happening to him.”

We sat in silence, the huge bureaucratic building ticking with a life of its own. The building and all the pit bulls still
hadn’t found Jamie.

“Where’s Amber? Can she come back with us?”

“She’s been released.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. These people aren’t exactly forthcoming with their information. And I haven’t talked with Claire.” And then
with no segue, “Are you hungry?”

I still had no appetite, even though I’d not eaten in God knows how long. “No, Mom, they fed me.” I wondered what she meant
about Claire not speaking with her, but said nothing.

“I’m seeing a bondsman in awhile. He’ll try to get you out before the weekend, but he may not be able to, since it’s Friday.
He’ll do his best. I’ll do my best.”

“I understand, Mom. I’m so sorry.” And after thinking on it for a moment, I said, “Are there charges against Jamie?” We might
be in the same boat.

“I don’t know.”

After my mother left I was transferred to another part of the compound, the drunk tank. With adults. Men. Drunk men. I supposed
it was to teach me a lesson. Seeing all those drunk guys
coming in hour after hour, vomiting on the floor, on themselves, on anyone who was close to them, was disgusting. The stench
was enough to make a sober person vomit, and I dry-heaved, but there was nothing in my stomach. Was I drunk when I stole my
mother’s car? Was I drunk to help my friend?

Finally I was released in the early evening, and my mother and I drove north. She didn’t stop, except for gas, and the only
comment she made about her formerly new and now torn-up 4Runner was to gasp upon seeing it.

I’d imagined the Border Patrol agents might put everything back together — you know, put the side panels on, try to put back
the headliner. But no, they’d piled everything in the back of the car, a constant reminder of my criminal status, and how
I’d dragged my family into it.

“What were you thinking?” Raul said. He stood in his former room, my room now, leaning against the dresser. Even though I
sort of reveled in my bittersweet privacy, I missed my brother a lot. I’d seen him every day of my life, and now the only
way I could hang out with him was if I stopped by his apartment. But he was never home because he worked a full-time job.

“I guess I wasn’t, not really. It just seemed like the cool thing to do. I didn’t want Jamie to get in trouble, and things
just kept happening.” Now I was the one arrested!

My brother had done his share of shit, but nothing that could compare with the mess I was in. “But stealing the car? Jamie
drowned? You’re not covering for him?”

As the bridge of my nose got edgy and my vision clouded I fought back the tears. “He didn’t drown!”

“Okay,” he said in a softer voice.

My mother was making a big Sunday meal and had invited my brother and his wife over. Bonnie, who was just starting to show
in her pregnancy, was in the kitchen talking with my mother.

“How come there’s no island on the map?”

“I don’t know.” Did I dream Jésus? Did I dream the wave Jamie took off on? Had I only dreamed my nights with Amber? “It’s
really weird.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “Maybe only the fishermen know about it. Maybe they don’t want people to know where it is. The simple
thing would be to find that fisherman again, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Jamie’s there. I know he is. Would you take me back?”

My brother just stared at me. We looked alike, the same brown hair, the same long black eyelashes, the same lean profile,
though I was more developed in my upper body from surfing all the time. He cared about his clothes, I didn’t.

Before he could answer, my mother called us to dinner and we left the safety of the room. It was no-man’s-land for me in the
house anywhere my father was. Nestor was pissed off big time but couldn’t do much right now because Jamie was missing.

At the table I let Bonnie sit in my seat, my brother took his old seat next to her, and my little sister and brother sat across
from them. I was seated next to my mother, who sat at the opposite end of the table from my father. I wanted to be as far
from him as possible. On a collapsible chair and using a corner to set my plate, I tried to eat.

Nestor started to dig in but my mother made him stop. “We’re going to say grace from now on,” she announced.

My father looked at her oddly. “I don’t think so.”

“I think yes,” she said with all her female authority. “In fact, I think this family should start going to church on a regular
basis again.”

Oh, God, what havoc have I wreaked on my poor family?

My brother and Bonnie smirked, but my mother led us in grace, thanking the Lord for my return, and hoping that Jamie found
everlasting peace.

“Stop acting like he’s dead,” I said. “He’s still down there.”

“Let it go,” my mother said in her soft and quiet way.

“No.”

“You stop this crap!” my father said.

I didn’t want to cry in front of Bonnie or anything, so I ran outside in the backyard, where I climbed on the block wall and
looked toward the ocean. There was no swell, the wind was blowing hard, and I sat on the wall with the sea breeze all around
me, thinking how odd things had turned out.

I was facing a felony charge of auto theft. Because of bail I was under some sort of house arrest; I couldn’t leave without
parental supervision, and as far as my father was concerned I could rot in the house. I was grounded until I was eighteen,
I figured. He still hadn’t talked to me. Just ignored or yelled at me.

Amber was in Oklahoma with relatives. Robert Bonham had gone with her, I heard. Robert Bonham picked her up in San Diego too.
Greg Scott had told me. He came by, and so had Herbie and Ricky, a few of the guys I surfed with. Just to hear the story.
The
lawyer my parents hired was trying to cut a deal so that I would be charged with a misdemeanor, with probation. So far the
D.A. had resisted. I was not to contact Amber, but couldn’t since I didn’t know where she was.

And F? F was fucked up. Some brain damage or something. His beating precipitated a stroke or something, something so that
his brain didn’t get enough oxygen, and he was major fucked. He was still in the hospital, though it was for therapy now,
and not because he was in any danger. And Claire wouldn’t talk with any of my family. Greg Scott heard that she blamed me
for everything that happened. But I didn’t make F attack Jamie, and I didn’t make Jamie give F brain damage, of that I’m sure.
Besides, when Jamie returns he’ll set things straight

I wondered what he was up to? How could he survive on that island? And how would he be after going through all that stuff
alone? We had to get back to him, somehow. Somehow I’d have to find him.

Inside the house I could hear the quiet buzz of conversation as my family continued with the meal. Let nothing stop the meal!
Not the fact that my best friend was still on an island down in Mexico, not the fact that I haven’t seen Amber, not the fact
that I may face a trial and so could Jamie when he returns. Let the meal go forward! Life goes on.

We didn’t have to run, I know now. In fact, stealing my mother’s car and running away were about the stupidest things I hoped
I’d ever do. I was facing a felony charge, Amber wasn’t around, Jamie was still in Mexico, and I would
not
return to school until he was found. I just couldn’t face it. My English teacher, Mr. Vance, who was also my homeroom teacher,
immediately enrolled me in SISE, an acronym for Short-term Independent Study Education. I got my work every day from Greg
Scott, and sent back the previous day’s work with him.

Until things were resolved regarding Jamie and my pending case, I refused to go back to school. The only way it worked with
Nestor was because I had told my mom that I just couldn’t bear to return without Jamie, that I couldn’t face the other kids’
knowing what I had done. And it worked; she was sympathetic and argued my case to Nestor.

For a brief time I was a person of interest with law enforcement regarding Jamie’s disappearance. And for a time, a very short
time,
there was some interest in the story in the local newspaper, where I was an unnamed participant whose name was withheld because
of age. But as the newspaper interest had faded, so had the notion that I had somehow been involved in foul play regarding
Jamie’s disappearance. They — some detectives — interviewed everybody in sight, even Greg Scott and some of the other guys
who were on the beach the day that F attacked Jamie. Everybody knew I couldn’t have done anything bad to Jamie.