Echo

focus on the big hole in the ground and the coffins sitting nearby; three coffins.
    He wondered who died. Where did his papa go? He cast his eyes down, searching for his papa’s big feet in the crowd. His drooping lids identified the men that papa worked with, all tall and somber in their official uniforms, his neighbors grouped behind. He spotted M ama’s lady friends, many sobbing. The urge to lie down fought with his rising panic. Noticing a tiny coffin being lowered into the hole, he looked around for his family. Faltering, he slipped. Struggling to his feet, he screamed for his mama and papa. Hands reached out, trying to restrain him. Hope flared as Senor Brooks stepped before him, arms opened wide. He hardly felt the sudden pin prick on his neck. Gratefully, his eyes rolled back in his head, sucking into a deep soundless sleep.
    ###
    Jose woke up on an airplane with Senor Brooks and a splitting headache. By commercial standards, the plane looked like a mosquito, but to Jose it felt like a monstrous metal creature sporting a cold steel stomach that somehow swallowed him up. Scanning the empty seats, he wondered where everybody was.
    Turning to Senor Brooks, his sleepy voice begged to know the whereabouts of his papa. Senor Brook’s calmly revealed the horror, his voice tinged with impatience. “Jose, you know your papa and mama died in an accident. Remember the funeral? Everyone attended. Your parent’s honor turned out quite a crowd. Yes, yes. So tragic; Cara too. Now we must move on and meet your new family.”
    “I don’t want a new family. I want to go home, please.” His quivery voice made no dent in the recitation of the plans Senor Brooks made for him. As the words washed over the sound of the engines, they begin to sink in. His heart tripped with panic. “I think I need to go home now, I don’t feel too good.”
    “My boy … let me get you something. This will help.” Passing Jose a cola, he inquired if he cared for something to eat. Jose gratefully nodded. The pretty lady that stood next to his seat returned with a wonderful lunch for them both. Jose couldn’t remember the last time he ate.
    Sipping his cola, he thought it was unusually sweet. Maybe it was a different brand then the one he usually drank. Finishing his lunch he turned to his friend. “Can we please go home now?” Senor Brooks put his arm around Jose, squeezing his shoulders.
    “Come on now champ, you need to make your papa proud. He would only want the best for you. He wanted me to take you to the best place I thought you would be safe, happy and excel. Do you know what he told me before he died? He made me promise to take you to the U.S.A. And that is exactly where we are going.”
    “But the U.S.A. is a bad place. You told me yourself. Bad people live there. Everyone is poor. I want to go home.” Senor Brooks didn’t hear him. He picked up a magazine, reading as if the short conversation was over.
    Jose sat, silent with confusion. He was happy to be with Senor Brooks but too much change frightened him. Where were his mama and papa? He did not believe they were dead. Did he remember to tell Senor Brooks that someone made off with his monkeys? Everything confused him. The United States; why would Papa want him to go so far from everything familiar to him? His translucent eyelids slipped down heavily. That’s all he seemed to do, sleep. As he drifted off, he thought he heard the cry of an infant. It seemed to be coming from the back of the plane. Or maybe it was just an old memory. He slept soundly the rest of the way, immersed in the happy memory of Cara spitting up all over his papa as he tossed her in the air, making him and his mama laugh hysterically.
    ###
    Jose did not adjust well to his new family. His sorrow for his own family turned to anger, leaving him a bitter shell, just going through the motions. It was especially difficult, not fully understanding English. He learned a little in grade school in Costa Rica, but not enough to blend in. Even though his new family was Hispanic, they did not speak the language. Spanish used to be taught in American schools but like most things, fell to the absolute knife of budget cuts. As a result he felt foreign and different; just what a child recovering from severe trauma did not want. He became the strange new kid in school. No friends, no real family.
    In time, the shock and confusion of the days after the death of his family receded to a manageable simmer. He changed