“Which way?”
Not only did Papi’s voice rise higher than the chirping engine, but it also infected the silence with a haunting question. His worn knuckles curled around the steering wheel so tightly they almost turned white. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and soaked the collar of his favorite shirt.
The silence quickly rushed back, as if afraid someone else might steal its thunder again. Still, that chirping engine cried louder than baby Catalina ever could. I saw tears form in the corners of Mommy’s eyes as she spied the dirt road ahead. But Papi’s eyes were hard at work, laser-focused, as though he were ready to tame the land ahead with his bare hands. Yet we all knew no one could tame this land—not even Papi.
Everyone in the car stared straight ahead. Despite the contrasting expressions etched on our faces, our eyes spoke the same truth—we were trapped like scared rabbits.
“Which way!”
Alejandro squeaked and covered his eyes. Catalina didn’t stir this time when Papi yelled; she slept in her car seat with her mouth slightly ajar. The road ahead looked well-traveled, I thought, its dirt packed down to a mirror finish. Even the evergreens guarding its entrance appeared cut back and tamed by human hands. I didn’t like it.
“Go right, Papi.” I covered my mouth as those words bounced off my tongue.
He immediately swiveled his head and glanced at me, then looked out the driver’s window. I knew what Papi was already thinking as he canvassed what lay ahead, if the road was half gone this early in the journey, it would be far worse down the way.
Papi’s jaw tightened as he weighed the decision. For a moment, the only sounds were the engine’s uneven purr and the distant rustle of wind through the trees. Alejandro peeked through his fingers, his small body tense. Mommy dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, but her gaze never left the road.
Papi finally turned the wheel to the right, the tires crunching over gravel as we left the main road behind. The car jolted, making Catalina’s head loll to one side, but she kept sleeping, her breaths soft and even.
We drove deeper into the woods. Sunlight filtered through the branches and flickered across our faces. The road narrowed, and the trees pressed closer, their shadows stretching long and thin. My heart thudded in my chest. Every bump and sway made me wonder if we’d chosen wrong.
No one spoke. Even Alejandro stayed quiet, his hands still covering his eyes. I pressed my forehead against the window, watching the world blur past. The evergreens looked less welcoming now, their branches tangled and wild and bleached.
Papi gripped the wheel tighter. I could see the muscles in his arms straining, his focus unbroken. He was determined, but I could sense the worry simmering beneath his calm. We all felt it, the uncertainty, the hope that the road would lead us somewhere safe.
As we rounded a bend, the trees suddenly parted, revealing a clearing bathed in golden light. For a moment, relief washed over me. But then I saw the ruts in the earth, the deep puddles left by earlier rains, and realized the journey was far from over.
Papi slowed the car, scanning the clearing for any sign of a path forward. The silence returned, musty and heavy, as we waited, hoping we hadn’t lost our way.
Mamma scooped Papi’s hands in hers and offered a confident smile, but it quickly faltered under the weight of her own words. She peered out the passenger window and said, “It’s only puddles, we’ll make it. We always do.”
Papi eased his foot off the gas, letting the car crawl forward as he scanned the clearing. The golden light made the puddles shimmer, masking their depth. He leaned forward, squinting through the windshield, searching for any sign of solid ground.
Mommy squeezed his arm, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe if we keep to the edge, we’ll be all right.”
Alejandro peeked out from behind his hands, his eyes wide and uncertain. Catalina stirred in her sleep, a tiny sigh escaping her lips.
Papi nodded, jaw set. He guided the car along the edge of the clearing, hugging the line where wild grass met gravel. Each bump sent a shudder through the car, but the wheels held firm. The path narrowed again, the trees closing in as if to swallow us whole.
I pressed my hand to the window, watching the water snake through the valley below, just as Papi had said. The land was holding, so far.
But as we rounded another bend, the road dipped sharply. Water pooled across the path, glinting in the fading sunlight. Papi slowed to a stop, engine idling. The silence returned, thick with worry.
He looked at Mommy, then at me. “We wait,” he said quietly. “Let’s see if it goes down.”
We sat together, hearts pounding, watching the water and the sky, hoping the land would hold a little longer.
