“¿Estás bien?”
I’m crying again. The woman I’m sharing with is kneeling beside me, her eyes shining with sympathy. She speaks no English, I know hardly any Spanish, but understand enough to realise she’s asking me if I’m okay. I’m about as far from that as I could be, and doubt I’ll ever be right again. I don’t have the words to explain, even in the English she wouldn’t understand, so I just pat her hand, sit up, and attempt to dry my tears on the scratchy sheet.
She’ll be going through her own hell. Separated from her family too, perhaps? I’ve no way of knowing, no way of communicating. This is what it will be like in Colombia. A stranger in the country of my birth. A land so alien to me, the States is all I’ve ever known.
Knowing my distress is upsetting her, I try to pull myself together. Her features now relax, and relieved I’ve stopped my tears, my cellmate goes back to what she was doing. My angst isn’t unusual here. Cries and wails continue through the night as people try to come to terms with being caught up in a relentless machine that treats us little better than animals. I swear the guards don’t even see me as human. I’ve no rights, no dignity. All taken away when Todd Jenkins rammed into me.
Each day is the same. I long for that one hour of sunlight when we’re taken outside, raising my head to the sun, soaking up the rays. My misery so great, I don’t share it with anyone else. Staying on my own, like so many others here. Knowing our fate is already determined, just waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall.
I know Carissa, my lawyer, will be doing her best, but it’s hopeless. Even when I go before a judge, I’ll just be a number, another illegal to be deported. Another DACA recipient who mucked up and got charged with committing a felony. One strike and you’re out. You don’t even need to be found guilty.
“Hey, you.” I look around to see a guard using his finger to beckon to me. I walk across. Something about him seems off, and I’m glad there’s a chain-link fence between us. “You and me, later, okay? I can make your life more comfortable here.”
As his hand briefly covers his groin, I have no doubt what he’s asking. Using one of the few Spanish phrases I know, I respond, “No entiendo.” Hoping if I pretend I don’t know what he’s asking, he’ll leave me alone.
Instead he leers, then shrugs. “Don’t need to speak English, darling. Don’t need to speak at all. I can use that mouth for other things.”
I keep my face blank as though I can’t understand him. When he saunters off, I shudder, my heart racing. I’ve heard rumours of what goes on, but with my other worries I thought they were exaggerated, and naively I thought it wouldn’t happen to me. What the hell do I do? Can the guard make good on his threat?
Not if you don’t let him catch you alone. Moving away from the fence, I place myself in the middle of the women. It becomes my practice to do the same at meal times, avoiding being in a corner by myself, keeping my head down, not wanting to draw attention.
That night, in bed, I’m still shaken. Yeah, we’re animals. For the guards’ entertainment. I’m scared stiff, wondering if I’ll be able to prevent having something taken by force that I’ve not had the chance to give willingly. I’ve never dated, never been out with a man. I’m chilled by the thought my virginity could be taken by force. The guards are clever; they’ll make sure no one believed me.
My real fears of the possibility of being raped lead my thoughts to the man who says he’s my fiancé. For a moment, I allow myself to wonder what it would be like if that was true. From what I’ve seen of him, from how he is with Drew, there’s no one I’ve met I’d like better. My situation pushes me into admissions I wouldn’t otherwise have considered. As I lie there in the dead of the night, I know I can’t allow anyone to steal my virginity from me, not when the only man I’ve liked and wanted to give it to is Tse.
Crazy, crazy thoughts. I barely know him.
But that doesn’t seem to matter. I want him.
Another rush of sadness when I realise what I want is not what I’m going to get. I’ll be thousands of miles away, while he’ll be here, living his life.
My nerves are on edge. The next day, completely wound up, I keep jumping as I hear heavy footsteps approaching. But as the hours pass and I remain unmolested, I start to think it was all a bad joke. A guard taunting an inmate. I grow angry instead, how dare they toy with us in such ways?
Trying to put the unpleasant incident behind me, I count off the days until the next visit when Tse has promised he’ll be returning with Drew. I long to see his friendly face and that of my brother. As much as any mother, I worry about Drew constantly. Is he eating enough? Is he keeping up with his schoolwork? How is he getting on in such an alien environment? Is he holding his own, being bullied? The worst thought I have is that he’ll be upset, lonely, and missing our home. All I want is for him to be happy.
Two nights before they are due to visit, a guard comes to fetch me, indicating I should leave my cell. I look at her suspiciously.
“Where are you taking me?”
She’s six feet tall, muscular. Her face wearing that grim expression all the correction officers seem to adopt. “It doesn’t matter where. Just come with me.”
I don’t like this. But what can I do? I’ve no rights here. I can’t protest. It could be something good. My lawyer might have come to visit me. Or, it might be the worst. Tonight, I may get deported. But I haven’t yet been before a judge, they can’t just do that, can they? What do I know? Everything that’s happened recently has been out of my control, why should this be any different?
I follow the prison guard. She stops, unlocks a door, then leads me down a different corridor. It’s quieter here. Dismal. Closed doors to either side. She stops in front of one that’s open, steps back, and waves me inside. The door slams shut behind me, the bolt ominously clanging.
I’m in a cell with an uncomfortable looking cot, a basin and a toilet with no lid. I’ve seen enough TV to realise I’ve probably been put in solitary. But why? Had my cellmate complained I was crying too much? That would be unfair, she wasn’t unknown for tears herself. Surely that’s not it. Why am I here?
Sitting on the bed, I wipe away fresh tears. It’s the shame of not knowing, of not being able to understand. I’m being punished for a crime I didn’t do. But no one cares, do they?
Eventually the bolt sounds again, and two men enter. One is the guard who called me over to the fence. One look at his face and it’s clear he’s come to collect. Oh God. No.
Holding my hands up in front of me, I inch backward, my progress halted by the low bed. “What do you want with me?” My voice sounds weak.
“I think you know exactly what I want, puta.”
I might not know many Spanish words, but I know that. “I’m no whore,” I spit out, as forcefully as I can, but manage little more than a squeak.
He shrugs, and his hands go to his belt. “Whatever. You’ll be giving it up.”
He’s going to force me. No. No, he’s not. I’m not giving in. I ignore the man standing outside the door, presumably on guard in case anyone comes along. I can’t let him do this. It’s not his to take.
Belt undone, he starts to unzip his fly. “On the bed, puta. Make this easy on yourself.”
That word again. It makes me see red. Going on the offensive I fly at him, my nails raking down his face leaving marks, blood welling in their wake.
“Bitch!” he shouts, and backhands me, sending me flying.
My eyes open and horrified, I put my hand to my lip that’s already swelling. Pulling it away, my own blood shines red on my fingers.
“Shit.” The other man looks into the room. “Bert, you shouldn’t have done that.”
With a hand to his bleeding face, Bert steps out into the corridor where they have a whispered conversation, grunts and growls showing they’re not too pleased with the situation, while I sit wondering what they’re going to do next, my heart pounding, pulse racing. I’ll fight again. I’d rather die than be raped.
After their altercation, the one not named Bert steps in, his face glowing red. “You fucking fell, got it? Anyone asks, you’re a fucking clumsy bitch and you slipped and fell, okay?”
I’ll make sure to tell my lawyer and Tse the truth. Exactly who hurt me.
Suddenly one corner of his mouth turns up. “If you’d done what we said? You’d be back in your cell after a good fucking. You’ve gone and attacked a guard now, so now you’re gonna have to stay in solitary. Serves you right. Fucking bitch.”
I was protecting myself. I can’t stay here. Tse and Drew are visiting the day after next. “How long?” There’s no point in protesting, I can see that.
“Two weeks,” the guard proclaims, unsympathetically.
Again, my hand goes to my sore mouth, this time to cover my gasp. “I’ve got visitors…”
“Ain’t gonna be no visits for you.” He steps out, pulling the door closed as he goes. I can just make out the words, “Come on, Bert, better get those scratches disinfected,” before it slams shut completely.
Two weeks. Two weeks on my own. No visits to look forward to. No answers to my questions about Drew. Just alone with my terror that these two men are going to come back.
“Noooooooooooo!” I scream.
Chapter 15
Mouse
Being unable to see Mariana plays on my mind, and so does my responsibility for her brother. Part of me worries it was wrong to leave him as I did, but what else could I have done? I admit it was a knee-jerk reaction to have him someplace safe, but I’m concerned about him. Selfishly, I’d like him closer. He’s the only one who knows what we’re fighting, as I still haven’t let my brothers in on my problem.
Would they care? It’s hard to know if they’d be concerned about an illegal immigrant. They’d have my back, but hers? Would they understand why I’m so committed to Mariana, when I barely know her? Being unable to explain my feelings to myself, I can’t find the words to confide in my brothers.
I’m frustrated when Drew’s obviously out of the range of a cell tower. I call a number of times to check he’s okay, but the call never gets through. I’m beyond relieved when he does eventually answer. Our subsequent conversation reassuring me that apart from being worried sick about his sister, he seems to have adapted to life on the Rez better than I had done when I’d first arrived all those years ago. I suppose I was reluctant to see it as anything other than an unwelcome change to my all-American boy’s life in Tucson, and still reeling from the death of my father. Drew is treating it more like a temporary adventure. Still hanging on to the hope that Mariana will walk free again, and that he’ll return to live with his sister.
Having never been responsible for a kid, I find I’m choosing my words carefully, not giving him false hope, but downplaying my own fears about why his sister’s being kept in solitary. I don’t tell him Carissa’s assumption that they might be about to move her.
Ending the call with the promise I’ll tell him the moment I hear anything, I take a long drag on my joint, but even my drug of choice doesn’t do much to relax me.
There’s a knock, I call out “Enter”, and in steps Rock with Becca. The two seem to have made up whatever their difference was, and now are never far from each other. My eyes fall on their joined hands, jealous, knowing I’d give a lot to be able to hold onto Mariana’s.
I raise my chin at my brother, but my eyes focus on his woman. “Just the person I wanted to see.” I’ve been doing some digging while finding out all I could about her ex-husband. What I found was an interesting anomaly. I give them the details; Rock takes them to Drummer.
When my phone rings, I’m back to worrying about my own problems again.
“Tse. They’re moving Mariana.”
Moving her? My mind leaps to the worst. “Deporting her?”
“No, not yet,” Carissa assures me hurriedly. “Moving her to another facility. This one’s in California.”
“What the hell for?” I ask, while thinking how difficult that’s going to make it to visit her. “Can I see her before she goes?”
“You won’t be able to see her; these things move fast. It could simply be the immigration judge has too heavy a workload in Florence. Might be able to get her higher up the list somewhere else.” Carissa sounds resigned. I don’t know what to think. Again, I realise how out of my comfort zone I am.
“Do you know where, exactly?”
“Not yet. Soon as I know I’ll tell you.”
“Can you see her?”
There’s a sigh. “Look, Tse. There’s no point until we know when her hearing is. I’ve got all the information I need. I’m aware how much this is costing you. I don’t want to run up a high bill if we don’t have to. This could take months; I know some people have waited years before having their day in court.”
She’s right. The money I have is fast dwindling. I don’t want to run out.
“As her lawyer, they’ll tell me, eventually. I know it’s hard, but be patient, Tse. There’s only one way to play this game, and that’s their way.”
That’s the bit I don’t like. Satan’s Devils buck the system; we don’t go along with it. I’m tied up in knots as there’s nothing I can do. I can’t remember ever feeling this helpless. Nothing I research brings me comfort, innocent people get deported every day. I’ve even read cases where bona fide American citizens have been caught up in the system and sent to a country they’ve no connection to, then have to fight for the right to return. What chance has Mariana got? Angrily picking up my joint I light it again, inhaling deeply, blowing out the fragrant smoke into the room. Right now my mind’s like the air surrounding me. I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do.
Deciding to let Carissa work on the legal side, I start researching in another direction, deeper than I’ve done before, working late into the night, trying once again to get background on Mariana’s father. I set up searches and wait for the results, delving into systems I shouldn’t have access to. It’s surprisingly hard to find any information at all.
The next morning, I’m back at it again when I’m interrupted. A bomb on the compound?
I spring into action, helping where I can best. First, I need to check the security tapes to find if anyone got access to the compound, then when Slick finds a bomb in a car at the auto-shop, I’m looking into the fucker who brought it in.
We know how the explosive was brought onto the compound. But what we can’t do is stop the bomb going off. Now I’ve another brother fighting for his life in the hospital. I haven’t time to give another thought to what might happen when Mariana returns to Colombia. Retribution for whatever fate awaits my brother trumps concerns about Mariana for now. My first task is to discover who planted the bomb.
I do. He’s made it easy for me, it just involves tracing a VIN. Bo Brayden. Stupid asshole, bought the car that he planted the bomb in. We get him easily enough, and dispatch him with as much pain as trying to kill one of our own warrants.
Crisis somewhat dealt with, except that Slick hasn’t woken up, the next morning I’m free to research Mariana’s father all over again, when my phone rings.
“Drew.” I’m pleased to hear from him. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Woo hoo!”
Woo hoo? “Where are you, Drew?” I ask, suspicions running through my head.
“In a jeep, crossing the Rez. Bit bumpy.” Well, that explains the excited shout. With everything going on, the boy deserves to have a diversion. My lips curve as I ask, “You havin’ fun?”
“Yeah. Yesterday your uncle took me hunting. Taught me to use a bow and arrow. A real bow and arrow.”
Now I’m grinning, knowing exactly which uncle he means. Normally he uses a gun, but he’s an archery ace. “Who you with now, and where are you going?”
“What? I lost you there for a moment.”
“What are you doing today?” I repeat.
“Learning to ride.”
At least they’re keeping him amused. I’m grateful to my famil
y. “Yeah? Who with?”
“Billy.”
I’m on my feet, my chair’s fallen over backwards. Long-ago memories of Billy putting me on an untamed horse flooding back into my head. “Drew,” I growl quickly. “Do not, I repeat, do not get on any horse Billy gives you. Drew? Drew? For fuck’s sake. Drew!”
The signal’s gone. My warning unheard. The boy I’m responsible for is heading off with a man who thinks learning to ride means seeing how long you can stay on. Visions of Drew in the hospital with broken bones flash in front of my eyes. “Damn it!” I yell, throwing my phone at the door.
The door which is opening. Prez’s reactions are fast and he catches the phone with a two-handed catch.
“Whoa there, Brother. What the fuck is up?”
My breath is coming in spurts. “I’ve got to go, Prez.” I’ve got to get to Drew. Give him a few words of advice he obviously needs. That’s if I find him in one piece.
“Sit the fuck down, Mouse.”
Drummer’s roar has me planting my ass back in the chair. He stands, his arms folded, his steely eyes on mine. “I’ve given you more than enough leeway. Now you’re gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on.”
I stay silent. How can I explain I’m riled up because of a woman I hardly know, and her brother who I feel it’s my responsibility to protect?
“Well?” he snarls.
“Nothing to do with the club, Prez.”
“That so? That’s what you might think. But you’re not here for your brothers, even when you’re on the compound.” I start to protest; he stops me with a raised hand. “Oh, you do everything we fuckin’ ask for, can’t fault you on that. But you’re distracted, your mind’s someplace else.”
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