A few minutes later the young boy gathered some of his new personal hygiene items and proceeded to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Joey took the opportunity to explain their new roommate to Seven.
“The kid lives on the street. He was sleeping in the warehouse when we showed up. He has no idea who or where his father is. His mother was a prostitute in Matamoros, but she left about six months ago, and he hasn’t seen her since. He’s a street urchin; there’s a lot of them down here. They live on the streets, hustle and rob for whatever they can get to survive, and usually either end up dead or sucked into working for the cartels,” Joey said.
“That’s just about the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” Seven said sadly as he helped Joey prepare Cabra’s bed.
They closed out the evening eating hamburgers, watching Spanish television, and practicing each other’s native language. Joey D. was fluent in both tongues and worked with Seven and Cabra, filling in the gaps in their communications. Cabra had learned quite a bit of English from his time living on the streets. It was a useful tool for shaking down and robbing the tourists who came across the border. Once he accepted that his mother would probably not return, he developed a plan of his own. He assumed the role of street urchin and thief out of necessity for survival. He worked hard to learn English and save money so that he could be properly prepared to cross the border into the US. Cabra had been forced to mature well before most his age. He accepted the life he was given without remorse or sadness. He saw the affluence and opportunities that the north had to offer, and he vowed to cross the line and make his way. It never occurred to him to feel sorry for himself; he had seen others in worse situations. He had seen all of the horrible realities of poverty and violence. In fact, it was all that he had seen. It only fueled his desire to find a better way.