Illegal

by Bettina Restrepo

  I called out to all of them, “She didn’t do anything!” Flora slunk away from the pool.

  But Jorge continued to pull at my arm, blind with rage.

  Keisha trotted after us. “You said it all in English. Where’d you learn how to do that? Have you been holding out on me?”

  I shrugged my shoulders because I didn’t know how the words came out. Something boiled in my stomach and the words wanted to flow like lava.

  Keisha pulled me into a hug and her braids fell into my hands as I squeezed her back. The last person who had squeezed me that tight was Grandma. “Not a whole lotta Mexican folk would stand up for a black girl.”

  Jorge barked, “Keisha, call your mother and go home. Don’t come back for a while. It’s not safe.”

  Keisha interrupted, “But Flora said—”

  “Go. Now.” He turned to me. “Don’t pick fights with gangs!”

  The afternoon dragged on like the minutes before Christmas. Jorge slammed his paperwork around and glared at me. There was no conversation, not even the droll of the radio. Just his fury.

  His anger was about Tessa, and I was just her replacement.

  It seemed everyone here was mad about something.

  CHAPTER 30

  Brave

  At five, Jorge told me to take the rest of the day off. I worried he would fire me in the morning.

  I wandered the streets until I found a church; at least, that’s what I thought it was. It was a metal building with a cross on the sign. I wore my new purple shoes, which seemed completely wrong in a church.

  “Hello?” I called out as I stepped through the door. The nuns told me the church was always open, but no one said anything about knocking.

  “¿Hola?” I called out again. My voice echoed against the cold metal walls.

  In Cedula, we had wooden pews made by people in our town. Women brought candles; men cut down trees to make an altar. The merchants pooled money to buy a few beautiful statues of Mary, Jesus, and Guadalupe. All in an abandoned store.

  I didn’t see any of that here. There was a piano and metal chairs. There was a stand at the front. No candles burning. An empty wooden cross. No Jesus. Maybe they had taken him off the cross to wash him? Maybe that’s why no one was there.

  I took a seat in the back and looked at the altar. Why did it seem so long since I had prayed? I couldn’t even remember how long we had been in Houston.

  I whispered, “Dear God. I hope You’re here somewhere. Please help me find Papa. Please don’t let me be fired.” I paused, thinking about the multitude of all my other sins. “Please forgive me for the fight.”

  But maybe I could find a better job. Or maybe, this was a sign that instead of working, I should be going to school.

  The church told us to pray about what we were thankful for. We were supposed to say thankful things too.

  “Please bless Mama and Grandma. Thank you for Keisha and Flora. And these horrible shoes.” For good measure, in case He wasn’t listening before, I said it again: “Please help us find Papa.”

  I worried I was supposed to be praying in English. Did God speak different languages in different places? I used the most important English words I knew. “Papa. Mama. School. Job. Please.”

  I felt like I was a pleading child, begging for candy. Like the beggar in Matamoras. Where was my mercy? No voice whispered in my head. I was here alone.

  After I left the church, I walked toward the school Keisha described. It had a high fence around the yard, but I found a gate and could peek into the windows.

  Books lined every shelf. There were more than twenty desks in each room. Chalkboards stretched behind the front desk. Three computers. Pencils, pens, art supplies. There was more in this room than what had been bought in three years by the nuns. I felt like I was staring into an oasis of education.

  The fight had been a sign. I was supposed to be going to school. Perhaps this was my birthday present from God. An opportunity. But where was the voice to guide me?

  A woman in jeans opened the door and walked into the room. She had long brown hair, a pencil woven through it to keep it away from her eyes. She carried a plastic bin. I ducked out of view and continued down the street.

  I silently wished Flora would appear so I could get answers to all of my questions. We never had any time to really talk. And I wanted to ask her how she was doing in school. And did she get to have a quinceañera? And had a boy ever kissed her? And what happened to her father?

  And, and, and.

  I just wanted a friend I could really talk to—like sisters doing hair, doing nails, and sharing secrets. Like my unborn sister, who disappeared from my mother’s belly and floated away with the rain.

  But the sun dipped lower in the sky, and I knew it was time.

  At home, Mama sat at the table with her arms crossed and a fiery look on her face. “I can’t believe you almost cost us our jobs! You’re lucky Jorge wants you back in the morning.”

  I sat out on the stoop weaving until a few stars strained to sparkle in the city sky. I was waiting for Papa like a lost dog that didn’t even know her owner’s name anymore. I was just someone else who couldn’t go home. Not yet. Maybe not even ever, because home didn’t exist for me without him.

  CHAPTER 31

  Punishment

  Jorge made me pay for the fight in sweat even though the pool was almost completely deserted. I’m sure if Jorge could have told me to pick up every grain of dirt in the park, he would have. It was like he couldn’t put enough space between us.

  No one talked to me for three days. Manuela wouldn’t even take the small basket I had painted with green polish. The more hurt I felt, the angrier I became. It was like the world had turned its back on me.

  On day three, Keisha came around. “Can she talk to me now?”

  Jorge shook his head. “No. Go back to the pool.”

  Keisha stood straighter than I had ever seen before. “She was just doing the right thing and y’all shouldn’t punish her for that.”

  Jorge barked back, “She doesn’t need to be involved with any of those Chulo girls. You know what kind of problems we had with Tessa.”

  Keisha pulled herself up tall. “Nora was just defending me.”

  Jorge barked, “Is that true, Nora?”

  I leaned against the broom. “Sí.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Jorge’s eyes softened. “It looked like you were picking the fight, especially with Flora hanging around.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. He never gave me the chance to explain. I chose the fight because it was the right thing to do.

  Keisha held her hand over her heart. “She wasn’t. I promise. I’ll even look out for her when we go to school, and Flora ain’t hanging around those people. She’s at the library; I saw her. She looks real upset.”

  Jorge pursed his lips. “Nora, go on your break.” He scratched at his head and used his fingers to trace the lines of his jaws.

  Keisha peeked over the counter. “Where are the shoes I gave you?”

  Jorge laughed. “Those are the ugliest shoes I have ever seen.”

  I put them on with pride. “Chew twins.”

  I sat in the shade with Keisha, but she was too quiet. “I try go church,” I said.

  “Girl, there’s lots of church around. What kinda flavor are you?”

  I pointed to both of us. “Church. School. Go.”

  “Huh? You and me? Vacation Bible School is all finished, and we’re mostly black at my church. I mean, you could come if you want—but don’t get all scared when people whoop and holler to praise the Lord in my church. We know how to call on Jesus.”

  I nodded like I understood her words, like this was all normal. “I go school. You help. Mañana. Chew twin.”

  Tomorrow would be my fifteenth birthday. Even though she was younger, I wanted Keisha to help me get into school.

  Keisha started backing up. “Nope, sorry. I once ran around the neighborhood and my momma switched me so bad. I lear
ned my lesson. I stay at the pool or the library.” She paused. “And now that you’ve pissed them off, ain’t no way we going running around. Don’t be on the streets by yourself, ’cause it just makes you an easy target. We can still be shoe twins—here at the pool.”

  Jorge pointed at his watch and called me back to the stand. “I gotta get to the bank.” My break was over. From the look on his face and the tone of his voice, it seemed the punishment was over too. There was no apology. I didn’t need it.

  Lauren waved from her stand for a drink. An idea popped into my head. As I entered the pool, Lauren stuck out her hand for the drink like I was doing her a favor. She didn’t care about anything except her cold free drink. As I came closer to her chair, I felt a new feeling. I opened the lid and waited for her to look at me.

  As her blue eyes peered down, I poured the lemonade into the grass.

  “No mas,” I said.

  Lauren’s mouth gaped open.

  “No more free for you. Learn manners.”

  Keisha gave me a thumbs-up. I believed in my own courage.

  At home, Mama grinned from ear to ear. “Guess what!”

  I hadn’t seen her smile like that in a long time.

  “Jorge just brought this over. He also told me how he made a terrible mistake about your argument at the pool. I did too. I’m very proud of you for defending your friend, but next time, let’s not make it into a brawl. Okay?”

  I leaned in to her. Her approval meant more than any apology.

  “And you are so smart to have someone mail a letter! Concrete Guy also gave me the name of a place to call to find Papa,” she said proudly. “You read it for us, my lucky star.”

  I grabbed at the letter from Grandma. Apparently, even God understood my Spanglish. This was an early birthday present.

  Inside, I swear I could smell Grandma’s hands, and maybe the slightest scent of grapefruit.

  Dear Aurora and Nora,

  I miss both of you so much that I think my heart is breaking more each day. Even the grapefruit are in mourning because there is no little monkey climbing their trees. The tax man has come twice, and things look very bad. I gave him some of my special candles, but they buy very little time.

  My bright spot is Hector. He brings your telegraphs and watches Mass with me. We pray for you. Be safe so that one day we can be together again.

  I love you,

  Isabel

  The few simple words broke my heart. The tax man was on his third trip, which is very bad news. Then what? We wouldn’t have anything to return to. Grandma was too old to be smuggled up in a truck like Mama and me.

  I wiped away my sweat and sadness. “At least we have a phone number. Did Concrete Guy say anything else? Maybe we can figure something out.”

  “No. We’ll call tonight,” said Mama. Her eyes were wrinkled with concern.

  But my mind thought about the telephone and how it never gave the answers I wanted.

  And neither one of us mentioned my birthday tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 32

  The Truth About Tall Buildings

  My thoughts remained on Grandma. She would tell me when I was worried, “Let the wind carry your worries away. That’s why God makes a breeze in the morning.”

  But the still, humid air of Houston sat on me like a gordita waiting for the buffet. Out on the street corner, I noticed two small children walking home with their mother pushing a shopping cart. The kids carried shiny new backpacks. I knew this was another sign.

  “School starts soon. I need supplies,” I said to Mama. I figured if I said it like it was something we were supposed to do, she just might follow along.

  Mama looked at me funny. “You need real papers to go to school.”

  “We’ll just buy them.” It seemed you could buy anything in America for the right price.

  “No, I wish we could. First we find your father, send money home to Grandma, and then you go to school.”

  “But—”

  She shook her head. “School takes time away from work. Grandma needs us to send more money.”

  “But—”

  “Or we might lose the farm.”

  “But—” I tried again.

  Mama cut me off midsentence. “I want to send you to school too, but not yet.”

  “I’ve been praying at a church nearby,” I said. I had seen a priest only once. He waved at me, but I pretended to be deep in prayer, so he let me sit in peace.

  “I don’t think God can answer every prayer we ask for,” said Mama sadly.

  The empty church had become my place. No screaming from the pool, no television blaring through the wall, no mother trying to tell me what to do. Heck, even God was silent. I prayed in the empty church because they had air-conditioning. In the cool air, I could pray for hours. I even left a bowl on the altar.

  Mama pulled out a napkin stained with salsa. “This man says he worked with your father in the spring. He described the tall buildings. I think this is the right number.”

  I frowned at my clothes. “Keisha talked about a voucher. Do you think we could get a voucher? I feel like I’m starting to look like Mr. Mann.”

  Mama stared at my feet. “We just don’t have extra money. You want clothes, or to help Grandma? Which do you choose?”

  I didn’t want to choose. I put on the sandals and followed Mama to the pay phone outside of the market. I didn’t even try to listen anymore. I flopped down on the bench meant for the bus people. No one was waiting for the Metro. My empty earlobes ached when I looked at the jewelry store across the street.

  This was my opportunity to stare at the window of Payless. How I wanted a pair of brightly colored sneakers. Maybe I could tell Manuela it was my birthday and she would buy me a pair. The idea of a quinceañera was a distant memory. Just a pair of shoes. My family. School. My list always seemed to be growing. It would have been easier if I didn’t want anything.

  Mama slipped coins into the phone. “Hello. My name is Aurora. I’m looking for my husband, Arturo, from Cedula. He stayed at your mission with a man named Luis. Do you know where I can find him?”

  I dreamed of what it would be like to wear a new uniform to my first day of real American school. I could sit next to Flora and have a fresh notebook with light blue lines. A teacher would point at the board, and for once, I would begin to learn everything I really needed to know. Papa would be so proud of me.

  I would be smarter when we found him. I could put my education to work and save our farm. I could even open a store and sell things from Cedula.

  Mama grew quiet. It seemed every noise from the street silenced around us. Even the crickets stopped their nightly screaming from the trees.

  “No,” they would say. “We don’t know him.” That would be it.

  Mama shook. “No. No. I don’t understand.”

  There was more frantic talk. I tuned in to the conversation.

  Mama continued to babble, shaking her head no. “Maybe it was someone else? Maybe you are mistaken. This couldn’t be true. You’re wrong.”

  I couldn’t understand what was happening. Mama grew pale.

  “We came from Mexico to find him. He is everything to us. Please!”

  Mama dropped the phone and held her hands to her face. I could see the tears dripping between her fingers. The cord dangled in the air.

  I picked up the phone and heard a voice.

  “Hello? Could you repeat what you just said?” I asked.

  “Está muerto. He’s dead.”

  CHAPTER 33

  A Cruel Joke

  Mama’s mouth hung open as the tears washed down her face. She melted to the ground.

  “Get up,” I said. “Right now.”

  Mama bent over with her hands on the pavement.

  “Mama, pull yourself together. We can’t act like this on the street.” I noticed a car full of girls rolling by for the second time. I worried it would be a carload of Chulo girls.

  Mama rocked back and forth on the pavement. Ove
r and over again she muttered, “No.” Brake lights flashed in the twilight.

  I wanted to get out of the street. People were looking. She had finally lost her mind because of someone’s cruel joke.

  “Mama, come on, it was a mistake. We can find out later. No one knows us here. Maybe this person is a mentiroso. Come on, we’re leaving.” I didn’t know what was true. A car with dark windows stopped. Fear crept into my stomach, because I couldn’t fight off a gang of vicious girls. “Mama, time to go. Now,” I whispered into her ear, trying a nicer tone.

  I pulled Mama’s shoulders until she looked up. “Maybe it isn’t true,” I said with hope. I needed a fresh breeze to blow our worries away, but the night stood still.

  Flora’s face appeared in the window. “What’s going on? Get in before those girls come by and cap you in the head.”

  Mama cried out, “He’s dead! He’s dead!” She clutched Flora’s arm.

  She tried to pull back, but Mama pulled harder. “Who’s dead?” Flora asked, her tone softening. “Who?”

  “Mama, please,” I snapped back. I had to get her off the street, but she collapsed into a ball on the concrete.

  “No, no, señora.” Flora spoke with a tenderness I had never seen. “Please, let me take you home.”

  I hovered over my mother. “She starting saying crazy things. You have a car?” I asked Flora.

  Anger and concern mixed on her face. She rubbed my mother on the back. “Please, let me give you a ride home. Let me help you the way your daughter helps me.”

  The scream was like a wild dog. “My husband. Her father,” Mama wailed and pushed me away. “What will we do? ¡Dios!”

  My throat was closing. None of this was real. “Mama, it’s not true.”

  Flora held my mother’s arm. “Come on and stand up.”

  Mama’s wailing turned into hiccups. She muttered Papa’s name over and over, snot pouring down her face.

  “I just need to get her home. She’s getting worse after each phone call.”