Season One, Episode Nine - Foreign and Familiar
Driving from Phoenix back to the McNeel Apartment felt like he was moving through a dream. It didn’t help that the heat was sweltering outside, shimmering off the pavement and anything else unfortunate enough to be left in its glare for too long, giving the whole town a slight hazy feeling. He thought he knew how the heat would feel, sitting in the comfy cabin of the airplane, but now that he was exposed to its unrelenting fury, he longed for the cold chill of September in Alaska. Not enough to cut to the bone, but just enough to cool the sweat that formed during a late fall practice.
The heat was enough to numb the senses, but the feeling of vertigo added an extra layer of discomfort. As Phoenix turned into Tolleson, everything looked equally familiar and foreign. Iggy had never worn glasses, but he imagined this was what it felt like trying to see without them. Like he could remember the shape of the buildings out of his memories from ten years ago, but not the details, leaving everything looking alien instead of comforting. Driving down I-10 he could see in the distance the Hooters his Mom used to work at, where she’d met Clay. He had a sudden flashback, six years old, Miriam making him sit in the hot car while she went in to fetch Cassie, and a cold beer. Had it been this hot back then? He didn’t remember feeling like he was being baked in an oven, but maybe all those years in the frigid cold of Alaska had cooled his blood.
They turned off the highway, driving away from the shopping centers and grocery stores to the industrial side on 96th, then down Van Buren towards the residential area nestled right off the highway. They passed the Sonic on the corner of Van Buren and 96th. The same place he and Cisco would get milkshakes every Friday after school. They’d sit in the backset of Cassie’s Honda Civic, stealing long glances at the waitresses on roller skates, trying not to get caught. Back then the place had seemed bright and welcoming, an escape from the dry urban colors that surrounded the neighborhood. But now? It looked like any other building, maybe even worse. The paint had faded after years in the sun, the asphalt was cracked, lines cutting across the lot with no rhyme or reason. He couldn’t believe the one place he had a vivid memory of was so drastically different in real life.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the right hand side of 95th was the only exception. Despite all the years, the unforgiving sun, and the rough neighborhood, the building still stood pristine. The brick was still bright red as if it had been constructed yesterday, the spire still gleaming white after all these years. He’d once asked his Dad why they never went to that church, since they lived practically across the street, instead of driving down to the Lady of Guadalupe Church.
Rodrigo had sucked his teeth at the question. “And go to a church that doesn’t honor la madrecita?”
While Iggy was taking a trip down memory lane in the passenger seat of Rodrigo’s old Toyota Tacoma, Rodrigo rambled on while he drove, telling Iggy about what his grandparents were up to, how Claudia and Cisco were, how they still lived in the McNeel Apartments. All information Iggy knew, his father had told him everything at one time or another on their Sunday phone calls, but it felt like Rodrigo was as nervous as Iggy himself was, so Iggy pretended not to notice. He was coping in his own ways, surely.
So Iggy nodded at the right spots. Added an ‘mhmm’ where it was appropriate, all while moving through the city that he still called home that felt like the memories of a past life.
Then, they pulled into the McNeel Apartments parking lot. The only place he’d really considered home. Where he grew up. Until his father was ripped away, then Iggy himself as well.
Somehow, it looked unchanged. The stucco was a faded tan, instead of the bright sandstone he remembered. But somehow, that was all that changed. Or at least, that was all he noticed had changed.
The parking lot was still there, cracked and rough from years of abuse from both the sun and tenants. The concrete stoop Iggy and Cisco had spent many a day sitting on, contemplating how they would make it out of Tolleson one day. Then the tall glass doors on either side that had symbolized safety in his younger years, the place he could run when gunshots rang out down Van Buren, or the police suddenly swarmed the neighborhood like flies to shit.
For the first time, Iggy didn’t feel like he was walking through his memories.
He felt like he was home.
~~~
He had his hands at 10 and 2. Seat belt locked. Rear-view focused clearly through the back window. He went the speed limit, exactly, the streetlights casting a faint glow over the windshield as they passed overhead before disappearing behind the roof of the car. Every turn was sharp, every brake was steady. He stayed a car length back, at least, at all times. No music played through the speakers. Aside from the noise from the road, all was quiet in the cab.
His phone buzzed once in the cup holder, a notification banner appearing at the top.
Instinct moved his hand off the wheel, reaching for the phone as he turned onto Garvey Avenue, his fingers barely brushing the smooth glass surface of the Galaxy phone before his mind screamed in protest.
He snapped his hand back to the wheel, checking his rearview mirror out of habit. Nothing but the residential area of Maricopa fading into the distance as he moved down Garvey.
‘Don’t give them a reason to pull you over.’
The words echoed through his brain, reminding him this was no joy ride. This was business.
The worst part of the trip was coming up. He eased the Ford Escape off Garvey and onto Estrella, minding his lane and turning speed. On his left was the Fire Station. He turned at the next intersection onto Edison and now the Maricopa Police Station was on his right. It had never been a part of the route prior to this year. The newly constructed building still held the shiny new brick red look the county loved for all of their municipal buildings, as if the shiny rock made it a beacon of hope in the unforgiving Sonoran Desert.
He glanced out the passenger window as he passed the station, spotting a police cruiser idling at the stop sign, waiting to turn right down Edison. The officer made eye contact through the window. Mid thirties, caucasian. Shaved head with a red goatee. He nodded, one hand on the wheel, the other holding a coffee cup that was mid-downswing from a fresh sip.
Cisco returned the nod, his hands in their same positions, and faced forward again. He kept driving, glancing once at the speedometer to ensure he was still at the speed limit.
The patrol car waited for a moment at the stop light. Then two. Finally, on the third beat of his pounding heart, the squad car turned.
Left, down Edison. The way he’d come.
He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He could see his final destination coming up on the left hand side, as Edison turned into Loma. As always, the barbed wire gate was open, just enough to slip the Escape through. He sped up just a little, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before inching the accelerator a fraction farther down.
The moment the back tires thumped on the pavement, indicating he’d cleared the speed bump, the gate hummed into life, quietly sliding into place behind him.
Cisco drove behind the building, passing the parked semis, some with trailers, some bobtailed from their last trip, others already loaded with new freight for the next run of deliveries.
He pulled into the same spot he’d been in maybe fifteen times before, the car disappearing behind the two 53’ trailers flanking either side of it, the fiberglass battered and bruised from the years of assault from the sand and sun combined.
He cut the engine and killed the lights. Now, he waited.
Sometimes it was five minutes. One time it had been 25. However long the boys felt they needed to make sure he wasn’t followed.
Cisco pulled the Galaxy from the cup holder, thumbing the screen to life as he pulled it close.
Claudia: “Where are you?! We were supposed to meet Rodrigo.”
Then another had come, two minutes before, while he’d been holding his breath awaiting the cop’s next move.
Claudia: “You’re best friend is home after ten years and you’re Mary knows where. GET HOME!”
Cisco sucked his teeth.
“I don’t give a fuck if that pendejo is home,” he said aloud, unaware he’d voiced his inner thoughts.
Before he could type out a response, he saw shadows moving behind the car.
Three rhythmic taps followed, two in quick succession before a delay beat on the third. Then, a hand stuck out, visible in the sideview mirror.
All Cisco could see was a hand, the thumb and index forming a circle, and a tattoo on the skin between the digits. That was the signal.
He popped the hatch and watched through the rearview as the men started unloading the trunk. He stayed in the car, eyes on the rearview mirror. He could hear the shifting of bags, the clinking of metal, a few hushed words in Spanish. After two trips, the hatch slammed shut with a click. The same man gave him a circle with his thumb and pointer finger—tattoo visible again, then gave a light salute and disappeared into the night.
Cisco always waited five more minutes after the drop was done to re-ignite the engine. No one had told him to do this, but it felt necessary. At least to him.
While he waited, he typed back a quick response to his mother.
‘Be home soon. Baby Iggy can wait.’
He backed out of the parking spot, drove through the gate that was once again open just enough to fit the Escape through, then down Edison, back towards the police station.
His right hand was at 12, his left hand out the window, dangling against the side panel. Bass thumped through the speakers as Pooh Shiesty rapped over the beat.
“FDO, FTF, first day out, bitch, fuck the feds”
‘This is one experience I don’t want first hand. Shiesty can keep the FDO,’ Cisco thought, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he glanced over at the police station again. The lot was quiet this time.
The song continued as Cisco drove back through Maricopa towards South Mountain Village, where his own car was waiting. As he glided through the Maricopa suburbs, he couldn’t help daydreaming about finally getting his Mom out of the ghetto, getting her a place to call all her own in Maricopa.
~~~
The living room felt smaller than it really was, full of all the small items you collect over a lifetime. Usually, some of those items eventually get tossed away during a move, deemed unimportant, or simply not worth the effort. But, when you live in one apartment for almost twenty years, things have a habit of sticking around.
Nicknacks occupied every space imaginable. The bookshelf, the small entertainment center that held the modest TV, both coffee tables, and every window sill. The furniture was a ragtag collection of garage sale finds and free items from friends. The loveseat that Claudia and Rodrigo were nestled together on had been a find from two weekends ago. Rodrigo had spotted it on his drive to work and had called Claudia, who was in dire need of a new love seat after Rodrigo had spilled pasta sauce on it in a frantic escape attempt to keep Cisco from catching them together.
This time, there would be no mad scramble to avoid suspicion. Only because this time they had a viable reason. That didn’t mean they couldn’t take advantage of it.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Asked Rodrigo through pressed lips as Claudia climbed on top of him.
“The door is locked and he never uses his key,” she sighed back between kisses, lips never disconnecting from each other.
“He’ll walk head first into the door before he uses the key.”
“And Iggy?”
“He’s unpacking and talking to his girlfriend. I think he wanted the space anyway,” answered Rodrigo as his hand slid underneath Claudia’s blouse.
As if on cue, there was a thump on the door, followed by a low curse, then the jangle of keys.
Claudia quickly slid off Rodrigo’s lap, giving him a swift kiss, retreating to the other end of the couch, putting distance between them as she fixed her hair and pulled out her lipgloss.
After another low curse, Cisco burst through the door, the knob hitting the worn spot in the drywall with a soft thud.
“The fuck?” Cisco exclaimed as his eyes took in his mother—still applying lipgloss—and Rodrigo on the loveseat.
“Cisco! That’s no way to talk.”
Cisco sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, kicking his shoes off in opposite directions and stomping towards his room, duffle bag clung close to his hip.
“Hold on,” Claudia called back, but Cisco waved her off. “Hold on, let me at least put my stuff away,” he shot back, the door slamming cutting off the end of his sentence.
“Ya know,” Rodrigo started. Claudia turned on him, eyes daring him to continue. Rodrigo lifted his palms in surrender.
Cisco emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, the black clothing stripped to a white tank-top and black Nike shorts.
“So, what’s up?” Asked Cisco as he crossed the hallway to the kitchen, pulling out the tinfoil wrapped tortillas and some leftover carnitas.
“You’d know what was up if you weren’t out all night doing God knows what. Where have you been?”
“Out.” Cisco put the carnitas on a plate, putting them in the microwave to heat.
“Where?”
“With Stefan.” The microwave hummed to life as Cisco punched in the numbers. Claudia stared at Cisco as he watched the plate rotate in the microwave, the steady hum the only sound inside the apartment. Rodrigo put his hands in his lap, then back at his sides, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin.
The microwave beeped that its job was completed and Cisco resumed making his taco.
“Really?” Claudia threw her hands in the air for emphasis. Cisco just shrugged, taking a hefty bite of his reheated carnitas.
“What was up,” Rodrigo started, causing both Cisco and Claudia to turn on him with looks of equal surprise and confusion. Rodrigo glanced at Claudia, threw his own shoulders up in a shrug, and pressed on.
“Is I need a favor.”
“You? The fuck you want?”
“CISCO!” Claudia yelled, anger bubbling quickly to the surface.
“It’s okay, Claudia. He has every right to question why I’m asking a favor.”
“To be honest, it isn’t even for me. It’s for Iggy.”
Cisco took another bite and chewed, deliberately slow, eyes working from Rodrigo to Claudia and back. Claudia waved her hands, gesturing for him to hurry up, but Rodrigo never moved. He simply watched and waited, holding Cisco’s gaze whenever it fell on him.
“Iight,” he finally said after swallowing the bite. “The fuck he want?”
Claudia threw her hands in the air again, then started absentmindedly rubbing her temples.
Rodrigo resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her back. Letting slip that he was involved with Cisco’s mom wouldn’t help him secure his help.
“He’s got some stuff he has to do while he’s here this summer. Court ordered stuff.”
Cisco scoffed, a small smirk forming and disappearing equally as quick. “What, like probation? Mano ripping and running up in the icebox?”
Rodrigo’s own smirk showed through, but unlike Cisco, he eagerly accepted it. He wanted Cisco to think he was in control.
“Yeah, something like that. Point is, if he misses them then he has to go back to Alaska, and I lose my opportunity to see my son for the first time in ten years.”
“I feel that, but what’s it got to do with me? I ain’t talk to Iggy since he left with the gringo.”
“Because I have to work. So, I need someone to take him to these things when I can’t.”
“You want me to drive him around then, eh? Gas money and hourly, up front.”
“Gas money upfront, hourly each week.”
“Nah, viejo. You need me, I make the rules. Everything up front, or you find yourself another Mexican to play chauffeur.”
“Okay, you win. Gas money and $10 an hour, prorated.”
“Twenty.”
Claudia hadn’t looked up throughout the whole exchange until now, fury lighting behind her eyes again.
“God damnit Cisco, stop being an ass and just be helpful for once?! Please?”
Cisco held his Mom’s look for another minute before returning his eyes to Rodrigo.
“Fifteen.”
“Deal.”
Cisco nodded, scooped up the last of his carnitas and retreated back to his room.
“All things considered, I think that went well,” Rodrigo finally laughed after five minutes of uncomfortable silence.
“We’ll see if you’re still singing that same tune when I kick you out with no play since Cisco’s home,” huffed Claudia.
“It’s gonna be like that, huh? Win the battle, lose the war?” Rodrigo joked, inching closer to Claudia on the love seat.
She swatted his arm with the throw pillow beside her, “Boy, get out of here with that. Go check on your son.”
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, rising and moving towards the same door Cisco had burst through earlier.
“But when I come knocking once the kids are asleep don’t be acting all surprised.”
He barely got out the door before the pillow thudded against the wall.
