The Magic Of Mateo

Home sweet home

He has brought me to a trailer. I don't even know what they're called in English. RV? It is not one that drives itself, there should be a truck to pull it and then I realize that it must be how he goes camping. Okay, this makes sense. Perhaps since he isn't using it, I can? It's in a park though, with many other trailers, not next to his house. I am very confused. He pulls the truck up in front of it and turns it off. "Home sweet home."

"This is..." Okay, I don't want to be overly rude but is he kidding? He lives in a trailer? I'm not some diva, I grew up in a cockroach infested one-bedroom apartment that I shared with my mother and sister. Still, does this have water? A toilet?

He laughs. "I told you it was small."

I don't understand. Nixon has a ton of money. Dare is loaded. I thought their whole group of friends was rich but maybe not. I look over at him and the bad haircut makes more sense now. "Does it have a bathroom?"

He laughs again. "Yes, a fully functional bathroom but it's... you guessed it... small. Grab some clothes and the plants probably need to come in too, right?"

I would literally sleep in the truck and let my plants have my bed, couch, floor space, whatever. "Yes."

I watch him slowly, carefully, ascend the three steps into the RV. He unlocks the door and holds it open for me to step inside. "The couch makes into a bed." I am in the main living space and there is a small kitchen area across from a two-person table that sits under a window. At one end is a door, maybe to the bedroom, and the other has a small living space and then a small door with bookshelves and a small desk built next to it. "Your plants could go on the table for tonight and the bathroom is there." He points and I was right, it is past the living room. The entire space, minus whatever is in his bedroom, can not be more than 8 feet wide and 15 feet long. It is not small, it is tiny. Still, it has good energy.

The place is mostly bare but it doesn't look empty because it is so small. No rugs and not many pictures or plants, but there is a fuzzy blanket and pillow on the couch and while it is neat, it is not perfect. There are books and papers along with his laptop on the desk, he kicks his shoes off as soon as he can and they tumble towards the door, and there is a coffee cup in the sink. "It is..." It is only right to compliment it but...

"Points for trying, Mateo. I'll find you some sheets while you bring your stuff in. Sorry I can't be more help."

No, no, I understand. His leg obviously hurts him. "I can do, it is no trouble." And I can, it's only a few more things. I arrange my plants as well as I can and they don't seem to have suffered any more damage on the trip over.

He comes out with a set of sheets, a big pillow and another blanket. "Make yourself at home. I have water and... well that's probably about it, honestly. There's fruit and cheese in the fridge. I have some nuts, too, and there's probably a few granola bars around."

It is then that I realize that his kitchen is only a sink, coffee pot, small refrigerator and microwave. I get brave. "How long do you live here?" I'm sure it's only temporary. No one can live like this for very long.

"Three years now, almost four." My eyes widen and he chuckles again. "I know, but I'm not here much and there's a pool, laundry, game room and stuff just down the way. My neighbors are great too. I drove out here, actually Nixon is the one who told me to come, and sold my truck for the first two years lot rent. Army paid for me to get my Masters degree and here we are." He shrugs. "I like it. I know it's tight for two, but we can sort you out tomorrow."

"Drive from where? Where is home?"

"Grew up on a ranch in Wyoming."

A vaquero! How cool is that? "You are a cowboy!"

He's sitting down on the couch and I join him. "Yep, raised beef cattle. My family is still there but after I got injured I wasn't able to ride much. The cold winters were killing me too." He seems sad and I can tell that leaving his family ranch must have been difficult for him. "But hey, one door opens yadda yadda. Tell me about you."

There's not much to tell. "Stupid Latino immigrant, drop out, same story as many."

He looks at me until I meet his gaze but says nothing for a minute, just watches me. "I really doubt that's the important stuff. I also don't think you're stupid and your story is probably really damn interesting but I'm not going to push. What can I do to make tonight easier for you?"

His question surprises me. Yes, Dare is good about helping me but most people, if they give, offer what they would want or what is easy for them. Very few ask and even fewer ask the right questions. Not 'do you need anything' which I can easily answer 'no' to, but a much deeper question that makes me think he really wants an answer. Harris is not like most men. There are few who aren't. There are a lot of things that would make tonight easier. A room with a door that locks, knowing where I am, being high, being someone else entirely. I feel trapped. "Is there bus stop close?"

"Yep. Turn left and it's at the main road, not far at all. Two lines, about every ten or fifteen minutes. The 71 and uh, the 8 that goes to the light rail."

Good to know. I'm not planning on leaving or anything but it's good to know I can. I can use Uber but it's expensive and there's something calming about riding buses, about tying your energy to something on a loop. Busses I know. Busses I trust. "Is safe neighborhood?" I know nothing about trailer parks. Well, nothing good.

"Yeah, it's a nice place. I've never had any trouble here. Gets a little loud on the weekends sometimes but no, it's fine."

"I do not want to be in your way. With couch out can you go bathroom?" It's a valid question, seriously.

"It's a tight fit but yeah. Luckily I'm not old enough yet that I have to get up three times a night. I'm going to get around for bed and then I'll show you how the couch unfolds. I'll take my laptop into my room and get some work done, if you're okay with that."

I'm in no position to complain. After I have a bed, of sorts, and the room is quiet, I check out the bathroom and get ready for bed, then find my power cord and plug in my phone so that I can play stupid games until it is time to sleep. I have a few texts from Nixon but I ignore them. Half an hour later I am restless and decide to take a little walk and explore. I take my phone, my knife, and my mace spray and am pleased to see that the half circle road through the neighborhood is lit.

There are many trailers here. Some are older mobile homes that stretch back far from the road. Many are smaller, like the one Harris has. I smell weed, then see the pool and building Harris spoke of. It has laundry but also has vending machines but I do not have a key and can not go inside. It is a shame, they have M&M's. I will ask him tomorrow if I may borrow it.

I retrace my steps and then go to the main road and find the bus stop. It's clean and there is no one sleeping in it. He's right, this is a pretty nice neighborhood. When I return, Harris opens his bedroom door. He is wearing only boxers and a tee shirt and I get my first look at his leg. It is badly deformed and looks like a whole piece of muscle is missing from his calf. I try not to stare. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yes, sorry, did not want to bother you." But since he's awake... "May I borrow key to use snack machine?"

"Yeah, of course. They're hanging by the door. I know you're pissed at Nixon but you're not going to run off with his truck, are you? He'd kill me."

Well now that he mentions it, crashing it would be fun. "No, I do not drive and do not want attention from police. His stupid truck is safe. I just want m&m bag."

"Good choice, although I'm more of a Twix guy myself. There's change in one of the kitchen drawers, help yourself."

He's going to hand over his keys and tell me where he keeps his money? Why does he trust me? "You are too nice. Someone will rob or take advantage."

"Will it be you?" he asks gently.

"No."

"I didn't think so. Good night Mateo."

"Good night."