Coffee and Donut

By Jerry Torres

The blood of Spain was dominant in the young Mexican lad. His hair was sandy brown, almost dishwater blonde and his complexion was very fair. His hazel eyes stared off into the distance as he sat under a tree on his family's ranch. He was daydreaming again. Jose could just picture the life he would lead in America. The cars, the girls, the beautiful homes… easy street. He could see all of America and it's vastness within his grasp. A golden land of opportunity. It's grass, he pictured so much greener than the grass here in the valley of Nuevo Leon, his home state in Mexico. He was 17 years old, had the swagger of a juvenile baboon and it was his time to leave the confines of this sleepy hamlet to make a life for himself. He would go north, work hard, get paid well and maybe, just maybe, come back home as a rich and learned man.

It was 1956, right smack in the middle of the manufacturing boom in America. Tio Jorge, his mother's brother, had written and said that the steel mills were hiring. Get up here and get up here quick. Tio had a contact. And the contact could assure him of a job. So Jose had packed his meager belongings, secured his work visa and was ready to head to Indiana. Never mind that he knew no English whatsoever. What did he need of English anyway? Shit, the longest part of his trip outside of Mexico was Texas and there were plenty of Mexicans there. A couple of days on a bus and he'd be in the relative safety of his Tio's house. Besides, Tio had given him a survival course in English when they had last spoken on the telephone. To find "los banos", all Jose would have to do was find the door which said "MEN". To eat, Jose would just need to order "coffee and donut" which was a "café y pastel". He could survive on that for a day. The bathroom would probably be the biggest hang-up since Jose's mother had packed him a dozen chorizo tacos for the road. If anyone would ask him anything in America, he would feign ignorance or deafness.

He left his home town on a Tuesday, destination "Cheecago", wearing his best pair of slacks (which were significantly shorter than his inseam), with those tacos, a little bit of cash for food and phone calls to his Tio. There was also a little less swagger in his walk. His confidence had been shaken during the weeks, then days, leading to his impending venture north. Had he been able to leave when his uncle had first called, he would've. But, el pinche bus didn’t pass through the closest town but twice a month. That was just enough time to develop a mild case of the jitters. The realization that he might be a country boob in a big city dawned on him. Jose's confidence might've been shaken but his determination stayed strong. After all, it wasn't like he was going north to work the fields. He was going to work in a steel mill (but, just what the hell was a steel mill?). A golden opportunity. Just think of the cars,… the girls,… the houses,… the green grass,… the language barrier.

The bus had sputtered out of town spitting a bluish, black haze out of its exhaust and stirring the dust of the dry, dirt road. Jose had half expected the battered bus to come crashing to the ground when he had tossed his bag onto the luggage rack. But it hadn't and even though the inside of the bus was not much improvement over the outside, he relished the bus for what it was…his first step to a salvation of sorts. The link to his new life in a new country. So, despite the less than luxurious ride, Jose was content in the fact that he was unbound from the chains of his small hometown. Sure, he loved his town and the people. He would miss them all. Just thinking of them brought a lump to his throat. Dios Mio, how could his emotions be so confused? Happy to be leaving… sad to be leaving. Excited about heading north… anxious about heading north. Que chingados?!?

Six hours into the twelve hour trip to the border, Jose found himself and the other five passengers sitting next to the wounded bus, which was now bleeding oil onto the pavement in the middle of nowhere. He'd never heard a string of vulgarities such as those now flying from the mouth of the bus driver. The driver's round face contorted, his short arms waved and his dark features started to shine with sweat as he cursed the bus. One of the other travelers asked how long the delay would be. "Quien sabe?" "Who knows?" replied the driver rather irritated. "Maybe a couple of hours."

"Pues, que …" thought Jose as he looked north and south on the deserted road. He hadn't seen much traffic heading in the either direction while they were driving the last hour or so. And the only traffic they had overtaken was a wagon being pulled by a team of burros.

"What should we do?" Jose asked the driver.

"Why don't you climb the highest mountain you see and take a flying leap" yelled the driver who was still steaming.

Jose's pale complexion flushed red. The driver noticed and softened his stance. "Well, there's a town about eight or nine miles up the road. I'll start walking that way, and if anyone else comes along, tell them which way I'm heading. You can stay on the bus or try to find yourself a shady spot." His voice raised again as he said, "Just don't go too far, I won't go looking for you when I get back."

The bus was hot and the breeze inactive, so Jose grabbed his bagged lunch and took off in search of shade. He soon found a tree and looked for something to sit on. He couldn't sit on the ground… these were his best pants after all. He went back to the bus, put his foot onto the back wheel, hoisted himself up and grabbed his bag from the luggage rack. It was then that he noticed the young, doe-eyed boy curled on the back seat of the bus in the stifling heat. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old and was dressed rather shabbily. His pants looked dusty and had holes in the knees. His shoes did not have laces. His hair was disheveled and he looked scared. Was he traveling alone? Jose smiled at him and asked through the window, "Aren't you going to get down?" The boy shook his head no. "You'll melt in there", said Jose. "Come on out and sit in the shade." The boy said nothing. "Do you have anything to eat?" Still, no response. Jose was about to give up on the boy but decided to give it one last shot. "Come on out and I'll give you one of my tacos." The doe eyes got bigger. "Come on." The boy found his way to the door as Jose climbed down from the bus. He hopped off the last step and shyly made his way towards Jose. "He sure is scrawny", Jose thought.

"What's your name?" asked Jose as they walked towards the tree.

"Alberto", said the boy.

"Who are you traveling with?"

"No one."

Jose hid his surprise. He hadn't seen the boy get on the bus, meaning he must've been on already when Jose had boarded. "Where are you going?" asked Jose.

"Up north. I'm going to live with my sister and her husband."

"Si? Por que?"

The boy hung his head and answered, "I don't want to talk about it."

Jose stared at the boy for a second then shrugged his shoulders. He threw his bag onto the shaded portion of the ground and sat on it. Alberto sat on the ground still hanging his head. Jose opened his lunch sack and pulled out three tacos wrapped in paper. He unrolled the paper, looked at the food and poked it with a finger. The tacos were tepid, limp and just a little bit greasy. Alberto raised his head enough to eye the tacos. Jose took one of the tacos and handed the other two to Alberto. Jose bit into his lunch and looked around. Despite the situation, he was impressed with the beauty of the landscape. The view was breathtaking. Immediately plain with the occasional saguaro cactus raising it's arms towards the heavens. The mountains in the far distance to the west poked their hats towards the azure of the sky. The expansive sky. It was the first time he'd seen such a huge sky. With little to break the landscape the sky seemed overbearing and seemed to be pushing down on him. The weight of the unknown was thrown on top of that and it started to suffocate him making him lightheaded. He brought his head down quickly. He recovered and saw that the boy had gulped down his taco and was eyeballing the third one.

"Go ahead, have another one."

"Can I?" asked the boy.

"Si. Como no?"

He watched as Alberto inhaled another taco. Man, is this kid hungry or what? For being scrawny he sure can pack away the food. Jose finished his first taco and decided that he was hungry too. So, he unwrapped another three-pack of tacos and off the two of them went on those. Those were soon gone.

The young man and the boy started to talk. Jose's down-to-earth personality soon had Alberto at ease and he started to share his story. His father had died prior to his birth and his mother had just passed away after battling an illness. The relatives in his town contacted his sister who had moved north with her husband just last year. They were struggling financially. His sister was not even allowed time off from her job to make it to the funeral. She had balked but didn’t aggressively fight it. She needed her job in the worst way. Although they were struggling, his sister and her husband wanted Alberto to come and live with them. The relatives had scrounged up the money to buy him the bus ticket to send him north to his sister.

Four hours later, the two young men were stepping back onto the bus with the rest of the passengers. The bus driver had returned in a tow truck with a mechanic. Poking around in the engine compartment with stubby, grease stained fingers the mechanic had determined that the bus could not be fixed on site. He pulled his head from under the hood, pushed his baseball cap back with those greasy fingers and through nicotine stained teeth announced that "the bus could not be fixed. It will have to be towed." In 1956 Mexico, there were no safety laws in regards to towing a vehicle with passengers in it, so they all piled back in and were towed to the city of San Luis Potosi, Alberto's destination.

When they arrived, they found Alberto's sister anxiously waiting. Alberto excitedly told her the story on how Jose had befriended and fed him. The sister gratefully thanked Jose for watching over her brother and invited him over to their home to rest and eat a warm meal. Jose thought about it but declined as he heard the driver's renewed threat to leave anyone who wasn't in the bus station when the bus was repaired. Jose grabbed his lunch bag off the bus and took a seat on the bench outside along the dusty street. The bench was an oak plank sitting on two cement blocks. He was tired and soon fell asleep.

He awoke as someone shook his shoulder only to hear the bus driver again yelling obscenities. "Levantate pinche maricon o te dejo aqui". The driver and the remaining passengers had boarded the repaired bus, which was idling and now pointed towards the north side of town. Jose, not quite awake, was up and running before he had wiped the sleep out of his eyes. He bounded up the two stairs and found his way to a seat at the back of the bus. The further from the grumbling bus driver the better. As the bus raised dust pulling away from the station, Jose looked back to see his bag of tacos looking abandoned on the oak plank bench.

"Shit!" said Jose. He looked towards the bus driver but dared not mention that he had left his food. "Ahh, what the hell? It's only a few more hours until I'm in Indiana anyway. I guess I can go without food for that long."

Later that day, Jose was in the city of Laredo, Texas. He had cleared the border. He also had directions on what he needed to do to get to Chicago. The first thing he had to do was wait on another bus. The delay on the bus ride in Mexico had caused him to miss the bus to Chicago he had planned on catching. It would be a few hours before the next bus headed north. And he was starting to get hungry.

An hour before the bus was scheduled to leave, Jose's hunger had talked him into the bus station coffee shop. He opened the door and looked around. Just a couple of customers and the waitresses were about. He looked at the waitresses hoping that one might understand Spanish. They both looked like Americanas. He was going to have to try out his limited English. He gathered up his courage and strode to the counter. One of the waitresses sauntered up to him.

"What can I get you?"
Jose's brow scrunched and he answered haltingly, "Coffee… donut."

"Is that it?" the waitress asked.

"Que?" Jose thought. He didn't know what she had asked. So, he slowly nodded his head to say yes.

His stomach growled as he waited for his "meal". It soon arrived. A piping hot cup of sludge, which he assumed was coffee, and a cake that was shaped like a car tire. He poked at it and his finger broke through the crust to the dry, yellow cake center. It was a pitiful meal for a growing boy. His nose as well as his eyes led him to turn toward another customer at the counter. The man was working on a large steak smothered in onions, mushrooms and gravy. He had red potatoes and a salad on the side. He stuffed a forkful of steak into his mouth, felt Jose's stare and turned towards the young man as he chewed. He smiled and nodded his head, which was topped by a tejana hat. Jose's eyes darted down to the counter and back to the man. He hesitatingly smiled and nodded back.

Soon after, the man was pushing aside a plate that had just a moment earlier held a piece of apple pie. He took a slurp of the sludge coffee, grimaced and looked over toward Jose who had finished his cup. Loudly, he said, "Jee-zus, this coffee tastes like it come from one of the oil rigs. How can you drink this stuff?" Oh, oh. Jose froze. This guy was talking to him. He slowly turned towards the man, smiled and nodded his head. The man's face froze momentarily as if confused. Then he asked Jose, "Hey?!? You ain't one of those wetbacks are you?" Jose was getting nervous. His palms started to sweat and although he knew it was going to make him look like an idiot, he turned towards the man and lifted his shoulders to his neck, silently saying "I don't know". The man looked at Jose and his face broke into a grin as if he was about to break into laughter. The waitress walked over and dropped Jose's check on the counter and as far Jose was concerned it was none too soon. Jose left some coins, got up from his stool, walked through the door and crept back into the depot.

A few minutes later the bus to Cheecago was loading. Jose was tossing his bag into the luggage compartment of the bus, when he heard the voice from the coffee shop say, "Hello, me ameego." Jose turned towards the stranger. The man's face bore a wide grin and he was tossing a toothpick around in his mouth. It wasn't a friendly grin; it was more like a shit-eating grin. Jose took a big whiff of bus exhaust and grew light headed as he avoided the man and went to board the bus. He made his way towards the back of the bus, sat down and quickly looked out the window into the dark of the night. The man plopped down into the seat across the aisle from Jose and pushed his hat back. Jose turned his head towards the front of the bus but with a side glance saw the man with the grin looking at him. What the hell did he want? The door to the bus closed, the driver threw the transmission into gear, revved the engine and the bus lunged forward. It was going to be a long ride through the night. Jose leaned his head against the window, used his jacket as a pillow and closed his eyes. He was tired. Tired of traveling… and he still had a ways to go. He soon nodded off into a fitful sleep as the bus seat made a horrible bed.

He was in the grip of a mountain lion. He had tried to out run the beast but it had pounced upon him and had its icicle teeth sunk into his shoulder. Jose's skin and bone would not give as the lion shook its head back and forth. Jose's terrified eyes were locked into the dark pupils of the creature, whose yellow eyes didn't even see Jose. The lion was focused on devouring its meal. Jose tried to cry out as the lion once again shook its head trying to separate flesh from bone .

Jose awoke sweating and found the man in the tejana hat with his hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He was smiling that grin, motioned his hand to his mouth and said, "Time to eat, Ameego." Jose looked around and saw that it was now morning and the bus was in another depot. He nodded to the man and on unsteady legs, followed him off of the bus.

Jose found the diner and sat at the counter. His stomach growled and he dejectedly thought of the coffee and doughnut that he would soon be ordering. The tejano hat had stopped to get a newspaper but was now sitting a couple of seats over from him. He tossed the paper onto the counter and picked up a "breakfast special" flyer that had been jammed between the napkin holder and sugar dispenser. "Boy, don't this look goo-oo-ood." The man sang the word and Jose couldn't help but look over. Jose didn't know what "goo-oo-ood" meant, but the two golden centered eggs pictured on the flyer looked delicious. Jose's mouth watered as he looked at the bacon and toast in the flyer. Wait! There was a "special" flyer on the counter right in front of him. He stared at it and was starting to drool when he noticed the waitress walking his way. She stopped by Mr. Tejana Hat and asked in a disinterested manner, "What'll ya have?" Jose knew she was taking the man's order. He leaned slightly in their direction and listened intently to what the man said.

"Egg special for me. Over easy. Make it bacon. Black coffee", said the man.

The waitress snapped her gum, nodded her head, wrote on her note pad, walked to Jose and said in a nasally tone, "What'll ya have?"

Jose concentrated and said "Especial for me. Over sleazy. Makin' bacon. Blank goffee." He looked at the waitress unsure of what he'd just said. Hat Man looked up from his paper and over at Jose. The waitress asked increduously, "How'd you want your eggs?"

Son-of-a-bitch. One too many questions for Jose. He could’ve grabbed the flyer to point out what he wanted but in his confusion blurted out, "COFFEE, DONUT! COFFEE, DONUT!"

The waitress jumped back and Hat Man broke into a loud laugh which soon turned into a series of high pitched, airy squeals. He threw his arm on the counter and buried his head in it while he continued with the airy, hyena-like squeals. The waitress barked "What'd he say?" to the hat, but all the man could do was hold up a finger, signaling the waitress to wait, as he continued to laugh. Jose's face burned, first from humiliation, then from anger. After a minute of laughing, the hat man was finally able to compose himself enough to say, "Give him the same thing I got." He looked at Jose, then went back to laughing so hard that his eyes filled with tears. The waitress walked away in a huff and yelled through a wall opening to the kitchen, "Two over easy egg specials with bacon for the coupla comedians that are at the counter." Hat Man, whose laughter had subsided, started up again with the airy, wheezy laughter.

"Pinche maricon", Jose mumbled to himself.

The waitress delivered a couple of cups of steaming coffee. Jose waited for the donut none too eagerly. Thoughts ran through his head. His first impression of the “el norte” was now prejudiced. America and especially Americanos were ugly.

Jose was deep into his brooding when he saw the waitress grab two plates of eggs and bacon off the wall opening sill and walk towards Hat Man. She dropped one in front of the hat man. She walked towards Jose and slid the other plate on the counter to him. His jaw went slack. He looked at Hat Man, who lifted a fork full of eggs and potatoes as if toasting Jose, smiled and said, "Enjoy, Ameego."

Jose gave him a confused smile, lifted his coffee mug towards the man and said, "Salud". Then, he devoured his meal.

A few minutes later, the waitress was dropping off the checks. She dropped off Hat Man's check and started to walk towards Jose. Hat Man said, "Let me have his check."

"What?!?" The waitress turned back towards Hat Man.

"Give me his check. It's not every day that I get a good laugh like that. Besides, look at him. Looks like he needs every penny he's got on him."

The waitress shrugged her shoulder and handed him the check. The man grabbed his wallet, looked at Jose and said, "It's on me."

Jose didn't understand. He thought the man was asking him if he needed money so he shook his head no.

The man enunciated the next sentence clearly and said slowly, "I…pay…for…food", as if somehow one syllable words said slowly were easier for Jose to understand. Maybe it was easier because Jose thought he understood now. The man wanted to pay for his meal.

"No. No." said Jose reaching for the few coins in his pocket.

"Yes. Yes." said the man waving his hand for Jose to put his money away. "You keep your money… and have a good trip. This is my stop." He reached his hand out for a shake. Jose hesitated trying to figure out what kind of deal he was making, then stuck out his hand to shake. "Goodbye", said the hat.

"Gootbye", returned Jose who thought that maybe Americans weren't so bad after all.

Eight hours later, Jose was pulling in front of a row of houses in East Chicago, Indiana. His Tio had picked him up at the bus station in Chicago in his Ford station wagon. Chicago and East Chicago seemed a world away from his sleepy town. The grass that Jose had imagined as so much greener was divided into small ten or twelve foot wide sections up and down the streets. The houses were so close together. There was barely room to walk between them. Smoke poured out of stacks Jose could see in the near distance. As Jose stepped out of the car he almost started to cough as he inhaled a lung full of stink from the Standard Oil Refinery. "Que apesta, Tio?" Jose wanted to know what stunk.

"Que?" his uncle answered.

Jose didn’t know if his uncle had somehow grown immune to the stench or whether he hadn’t heard him due to a thunderous hammering coming from down the block. Jose didn’t know it, but he had just got his first earful of the noise pollution that rang daily from the American Forge Company.

He shrugged and thought of his long, strange trip to this new land. He thought sadly of home. America was not as beautiful as his hometown. The grass was not as green. But the people seemed to be nice. And “look at all the cars”, he thought as a Buick approached. A girl was driving and as she passed, she looked his way and smiled. "And the girls", he thought. Glad to be in America… sad to be in America. . Que chingados, hombre?!?