The sky is blacker than black, and the stars are more brilliant than ever. The moon is just her little sliver. There are so many stars, we can see that haze that looks like the milkyway in planetariums.
We walk staring up in awe and wonder until I trip. Robert and Lucinda, the 8 year old daughter, switch on their flashlights immediately. The light is distracting but does nothing to diminish the amazing beauty of the black night.
As we get close to my truck, Celia comments on the visitor it looks like I have. I am surprised. We see a little pickup truck parked at a 90 degree angle to my truck and a little fire going on the ground.
I go to my truck so I can show the rest of Celia’s family my casa but Celia with Roberto following has gone over to talk with the hombre.
He appears to be a puffy white version of a banker with glasses and without his suit ‘roughing’ it.
And swigging out of a large glass bottle of beer. I cannot tell if he’s offered Celia and Roberto any but he doesn’t offer me any.
From the little I can understand, he’s from Zacatecas and is camping here tonite. I can clearly understand that Celia is grilling him.
He addresses me in Spanish and broken english. He shines his flashlight on his face so we can see his puffy banker’s look. He asks me where my husband is. My sister, my brother.
This pickup truck door is open, of course, and music is playing. It is not the usual radio but a cd player. I try to calculate how long his battery will last tonite.
He keeps asking me if I’m traveling sola. I keep telling him. I should have told him my husband is asleep in my truck and to keep it down.
Celia must have grilled him about where he was going to sleep because he hauls himself up off the ground and takes us over to the back of his truck, where his camping gear is stowed. He points out his tent, sleeping bag, plastic bag of food.
I am on the verge of asking him if he intends to camp right here but I don’t. I feel conflicted. The whole fucking campground is empty except for my spot and he’s parking in it.
This happens in the states too. It is like ufb. Many times I have camped in a deserted camp ground only to have someone come later and take the space next to me.
I don’t know if that’s why he camped there or if he has other nefarious reasons. He almost seems nervous. He tells me his fiancé, who speaks perfect english, is studying in Canada to be a doctor.
Celia doesn’t want to leave me but I give her a hug, tell her everything is fine, and I try to tell her how much I loved meeting her family and going to her home.
I give joe hombre a chance to turn off the music and leave. He doesn’t. I am locked into the camper, windows covered, lights out, and he still leaves the music blaring.
I debate whether I should move, open the door, ask him if he intends to stay there all night. My tolerance for loud music after such a wonderful, calm night is minus 1000. I grab my keys, open the door and step out.
He seems surprised to see me. He is bending over his truck. I ask him if he intends to play loud music the whole nite. He apologizes and rushes over to turn off the stereo.
I tell him I will move. He insists I stay, I was here first. I thank him, for turning down the music and for moving. We bid each other goodnite and I return to my home, lock the door, and take my iron pipe out of my sleeve and return it to it’s home.
I don’t hear him move, but he’s not playing loud music. I think I hear him putting up his tent. I wonder why he is really here. I wonder if he wants anything that is hanging around the edges of my truck. I wonder if he means me any harm. I wonder I wonder I wonder.
I fall asleep after putting huge circles around my truck and myself.