Lois Barr teaches Spanish at Lake Forest College.  She likes to bike, paint and write but not at the same time.  Her stories and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in East on Central, Ekakshara, 91 Creations, Mochila, and in anthologies---Art in Art and Love After 70. 

Los Patricios (March 20, 2011. Issue 26. The SLAM & FLASH Issue!)

I know three Patricios in Quito---one lives across the street from my host family and likes to tease me, one is from an old ruling family and chaperones me to parties my Ecuadorian sisters cannot attend, and one is crazy. I am in the car with the crazy one. The foothills of the Andes whiz by. I try to focus on snowcapped peaks in the distance. Patricio drives a Land Rover, and he makes that car earn its name. He occupies both lanes as we hit curves wending our way to Latacunga to eat chuchucaras (fried pork dinner in a paper bag). I am not thinking about eating anything. I am gripping the handle over the seat with my left hand. Since I am behind Patricio, I don’t always see how close we are to the unprotected edge of the cliffs. As we approach another curve, I close my eyes because a Quichua woman is walking on the narrow road, and I’m afraid Patricio will hit her. I look out the rear window. There’s no sign of her, and since I felt no impact, I have to believe she jumped off the mountain. Then as we are approaching Latacunga, I stupidly ask a question about something I see in the distance. Patricio charges the jeep off the road straight down the mountain and into a river bed. As we drive along the river and then up the hill, I am laughing and screaming. A year later, back in the States, I get a letter from my Ecuadorian sister María saying that Patricio---not the one who teased me and not my stodgy chaperone---has run a brand new Jaguar off a bridge and died.