When We Get There

Chapter 4

Ignacio awoke as the bus entered Buenos Aires. He squinted at the light for a moment as he leaned forward and stretched. When had he gone to sleep? Outside, a slanted sliver of the moon like a silver smile glared down at him. It must have been at least a few hours ago. Except all those few hours ago, he remembered passing through plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. Now, tall glass buildings and concrete paths interlaced and occupied the entire bus window. Dozens of multicolored cars flew by, weaving through traffic. Occasionally people would lean out their windows and yell at the bus for taking up the road. It was a mess of glaring lights that flashed across the glass buildings and multiplied. The effect was blinding.

When Ignacio got bored of staring out the window, he sat and looked down the aisle. People had left and gotten on seemingly at random while he was awake, though the bus never held more than ten people at once. Now, though, he realized he was the only one left. In a way, it made him cringe to think that the bus driver was using this, at least to his knowledge, a large bus to ferry just himself. Especially at night. Ignacio rummaged in his bag for a moment, mentally listing off his things as his fingers brushed by them. Two and a half bread rolls wrapped in his only clean rag, a neatly folded pair of handmade clothes, an extra wool blanket, his two gifts from Carlos, and a roll of pesos bound together with twine. He untucked two five peso bills and stuffed them in his pocket.

Fifteen minutes after the bus had entered greater Buenos Aires, the driver pulled into a massive open-air bus station complex. Eight or so raised parallel concrete stations funneled into a larger walkway that led to a set of glass double-doors on the far end. A metal canopy twenty feet tall covered the entire area. All of the stations were empty. The driver pulled into the one furthest from the doors, then sputtered to a halt. As it did, Ignacio grabbed his only two bags and walked down the aisle. At the end, the driver stood and stretched for a moment. His face was haggard and sweaty. How he managed to sweat when Ignacio had felt so cold in the back, Ignacio didn't know, and he didn't dare question him either. When he passed by, Ignacio handed the man both crumpled bills. The man stared at Ignacio's hand for a moment as if in utter astonishment, then snatched the bill before Ignacio could change his mind. Ignacio smiled, to which the man nodded. He said not a word, but Ignacio could already see a thousand thank-you's in the man's eyes.

As soon as Ignacio was off the bus, the doors shut behind him, the engine coughed back to life again, and the bus sped away. At that moment, a single thought gripped him: Did he forget anything? If Ignacio had, it was long gone now. Even if he hadn't, the idea of forgetting something and never seeing it again scared him. With so little, losing even a single cotton tuft of his blanket felt like losing part of himself.

The Buenos Aires bus station was large and nearly as empty as the bus was. Along each concrete station were green benches, waste bins, and information booths covered in bus route maps. The whole place felt oddly sterile but somehow dirty as well. On the bench nearest Ignacio's station was his dad, Pedro, wearing a ratty wool sweater and sleeping. His face was clean-shaven and pallid, topped with uncombed wet black hair. Between breaths, he shifted in his seat but otherwise never noted Igacio's presence.

"I can't believe it! Otra vez!" Pedro grinned, then stood and pulled Ignacio into a hug. He was quite a bit taller, to where Ignacio's face was level with his dad's chest, so Pedro had to stoop a little when he kissed Ignacio's forehead.

"I missed you, enano. How was the bus?"

Ignacio shrugged. "There's worse."

"Sure, there's worse, but I want to know how you feel."

"I felt good. It was loud though it reminded me of Abuelo's old car."

They'd started walking out of the station. Pedro had taken the heavier of the two bags and carried it with one hand while Ignacio held his own.