Chapter Text
A lot of people ask what I've been up to since high school… Can’t say it’s anything good.
I’m sitting at a table with… these… religious deep south Americans, just north of the MexiCali border, hands intertwined in prayer; a norm for every meal it seemed. The ranch they own is large— I’d basically scoped them out once I crossed back over. Over the border… that is.
Get this: not only do they own a barn full of animals: But the wife can actually cook.
The kids aren’t to bad either. A tad strange… odd looking but hey— what kid isn’t odd. Especially for a trad family like this. All smarmy in prayer, man of the household bull crap.
“And Lord, please guide our new friend Ruby and her college newspaper to help expose the pure evil that's pouring across our border and poisoning our great nation, the United States of America.”
“Amen.” The word comes out like second nature as my hands drop and I take up my fork to eat. I can feel their eyes on me. Not as much as when I was first found sleeping in their barn, but definitely not totally disinterested in my presence. I glance up and offer an unassuming smile, kicking my big ass duffel bag further under my chair.
What’s in the duffel bag…
Drugs.
Hardcore… real life…Drugs.
Now I know you’re probably thinking — ‘Rue you said you were sober the rest of the school year? Rue you promised you’d stayed clean? Rue what happened to your friends!’ To which I say… this is my life… we’ll get there after I eat.
“Y’know—” Why the hell am I speaking “When my uh… newspaper gets picked up— i-if it gets picked up, we can make a big difference in border protections and whatnot—” Oh my god shut up Rue “—I just, y’know… think that it can make a difference somehow,” A lie. “Yeahhh… well… as long as the commies at college don’t censor it, I’ll mail you a copy.”
Most of what this family knows about me is a fucking lie. Why would I close the market on untapped potential? I mean Mexican women are a whole different level of interest. But they’re laughing… so who am I not to keep up this charade.
“That’s what matters,” the wife pipes up, still cutting one of the younger kid’s eggs, “Making a difference!” she says a tad more emboldened before getting distracted by the younger kids again. I’d be wrong if I didn’t somewhat appreciate the sentiment. After all… make a difference is all I’ve wanted to do since...
“Oh Ruby! You’ll miss your bus!” The eldest daughter says, dabbing her lips with a napkin and eagerly moving from her chair. It’s almost attractive… If I wasn’t everything these people hate. I glance back down at my barely touched plate, and shovel scrambled eggs into my mouth. I top it off with a chug from my glass of OJ… not a good combination by the way, and scoot back my chair as well.
I offer a polite smile and an awkward hand raise to the others as they say their goodbyes and other departures. I drag my duffel bag up, nearly flipping my plate back on my clothes. The silence that ensues from my mistake feels admittedly embarrassing, but I trudge on after their daughter anyhow, leaving the house to drive to the bus.
I climb in the passengers seat of the beat up blue-Grey Volkswagen in the dirt drive, offering… Daisy… a more relaxed smile. I had been rooming with her since my arrival on their humble home. She was kind enough to offer me one side of the bed, though I spent more time pacing around wondering how I was going to get back to the compound.
She was a genuine soul. Kind, forgiving, a tad naive of the world— To be expected for a family off the grid. Stupidly enough, last night I came out to her. I don’t know if it was to make her aware and comfortable… or maybe… selfishly just the thought that I’d have a chance.
She didn’t take it any specific way. Kinda just brushed past it and turned over in bed. Part of me hoped she’d say something, even if it was a lecture on how, my preferences were: ‘against God, and a grave sin.’ At least it’d be better than the stark silence that came after.
The ride isn’t long but with her it doesn’t feel short either.
“I’ve never been on the internet… is it… fun?” She asks in that oh so sweet tone. I’m holding her permit in my hand, verifying it like I’m some cop. In reality I’m just staring at her picture. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, soft kissable lips… I hand her back the card when my mind begins to wander to less desirable things. Memories of the past.
“I mean… yeah, s’alright… not missing much. But you’ve got a set in stone path,” I respond casually, watching the rolling hills of dirt and sand pass by carefully. The radio is droning on, some unrecognizable gospel songs, not like the ones my mother used to play, but unique in it’s own right. Something tranquil… calming and melodic. I find myself mouthing the words, trying to anticipate which ones are next.
“But I can’t help but wonder… the different lives people lead. Different experiences,” she shrugs, tapping her perfect fingers on the steering wheel.
I can’t help but chuckle and scoff slightly. How do I explain that I’m not actually a reporter and I don’t give a damn about the border. How do I explain that I used to be a hardcore drug addict and I am now in debt to a woman whose only emotion is stone-cold fucking boredom. That I OD’d. That I’m basically a couch surfing hobo and my friends probably sill hate me from high school. I don’t have any prospects. I can’t escape this life and my debt is only racking up. That my mother no longer talks to me because I destroyed our house in a mental breakdown. I miss my trans-fem, bisexual, ex-girlfriend but I have no way of contacting her. I miss my mom. I miss my dad. And I miss my life before that fucking suitcase.
Her hand comes down on my knee with a reassuring pat. “You good?” she smiles at me. I turn and I smile back lightly. “Yeah… I was just thinking how… I’d trade lives with you in a heartbeat.” Truth.
I would do anything to just… eat, and pray, and work on a farm. Reclaim my years lost being high all the time. Repent for using people for my own gain; my own euphoria.
“Why?'“ She asks, and I become starkly aware that we are now holding hands right behind the ‘PRNDL’. I don’t dignify her with a response.
“You ought to come back out in the spring and meet Dahlia’s baby,” she smiles, handing me my duffel bag. “Bye Ruby,” Daisy waves, giving me a tight squeeze. It feels nice. To not be judged for once. To be embraced. But like all things… this is a passing experience. A momentary setback.
I get on the bus back home… home to those grubby little drug dealers and their depression mommy. I watch Daisy from the window and she watches me. And for a moment— I feel understood by someone. Even if she wouldn’t like the real me.
“Hello Rue,” Laurie drones in that nasally ass tone. I nod and dropped the bag down in front of her and her cousin Wayne who stares at me like I’m back in the confederacy and he’s caught me in the woods. I watch as he takes up the bag and slings it over his shoulder.
“New tattoo?'“ I vaguely point to his new confederate tattoo on his shoulder blade. I swear it’s like talking to a bolder with these people. He doesn’t respond, glancing down at the inked skin before sucking his teeth. I nod again and turn my focus on Laurie. “How’s… How’s Faye?” I murmur, struggling to find my pockets on my cargo pants, Laurie’s eyes trail about the sky before she seemingly comes to a recollection of who I am talking about.
“She’s alright… We have her cleaning the scales and… she seems pretty good at it, yeah…” she states back. “But Rue. You know I only took 5,000 off of your debt… you still owe me—”
“$43,887,000… er $43…882,000,” I nod, teetering back and forth on my converse heels.
Oh yeah… I didn’t mention…
I compounded interest from that suitcase.
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Looking back… when I got out of high school I should’ve just fled the country. Left this life behind. But I decided to try and make an honest living in California, and this woman tracked me down…
“Hello Rue…”
It came out of nowhere. I stupidly thought that if I got a job… took some extra hours… saved my money, that I could just pay off my, then, 46 month debt of $10,000 whenever I saw Laurie again. But that wasn’t the case, because the only place hiring… was a smoke shop for $10 an hour. It was an alright gig but no one else would hire me without an address and Lexi and Maddy refused to let me use her mailing address. Plus my track record was a bit… scuffed.
“He—Hey Laurie—”
“You owe me money.”
“No, I– I know, yeah. I was gonna pay you back.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.”
“Um, but then, you know, you– you moved…I don’t really have, like, ten grand right now.
“Oh, you don’t owe me ten grand, silly. Um, you did 46 months ago, and, um, now, $10,000 at a 20% monthly interest rate over 46 months means that you actually owe me, uh…”
“$43,887,000”
Uh, $4—43 million?”
“I’ll settle for $100,000… But I bet you don’t have that either.”
And that is how I became a drug mule.
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I go down to the border, meet up with… whoever Laurie was involved with. Swallow golf ball sized bags of mainly fent and try not to die as you sneak back across the border. Talk to gate agents while trying not to puke or overthink. Make it to the compound, take a fuck ton of laxatives, pass them, rinse and divvy up for Wayne and the others to package and sell to whoever the fuck they were involved with.
Not my proudest moments. But over the past two years I’d become their favorite mule… so that was something at least.
I thought I overheard Laurie on the phone one day before I left, some guy with a deep voice, sounded monotone… and serious but I don’t enjoy overstaying my welcome with these guys.
Before I can even process this odd silence with Laurie, Faye comes out in shorts that barely cover her ass, an opaque tank, and a fresh set of lips. Her arms are around my neck as she literally bounces up and down.
“Hi Rue…” her tone ever ditzy and lethargic rattles in my head as she pulls my arm. Sometimes I bring Faye along to soften the blow on my gut. She’s dumb enough to do it too. “I made spaghetti!” She says, dragging me into the house. I give Laurie, for the umpteenth time, a nod and follow after Faye.
The table is set for Laurie and her cousins, Faye, and me. And suddenly… I’m aware of how much I miss Lexi’s home cooking…