Illegal

by Bettina Restrepo

  “Look, take the help and be quiet,” Flora said as we walked toward the car. “Omigod, what are those shoes you are wearing?”

  “I like them.” My brain was numb as I pulled Mama into the front seat.

  Flora drove us in silence except for Mama’s hiccups. At our door, she helped Mama in, but came no farther. “I gotta go, because I didn’t ask to borrow the car, and it’s not like I have a license. My brother will probably kick my butt if he finds out.” She disappeared into the darkness without even a good-bye.

  I sat on the stoop waiting for the joke to end. Flies buzzed past my ears into the screen door, sounding like miniature cars zooming on a freeway.

  “Nora!” my mother wailed. “Don’t you understand? Your father is dead!”

  I clapped my hands over my ears and screamed. “We are not victims!”

  In front of me stood a lone shadow. Mr. Mann. Without eye contact, he put a bag at my feet and shuffled away.

  The receipt waved in the evening breeze. Doughnuts.

  It was nine thirty. We hadn’t eaten, so I cut up leftover sandwiches from the stand and a few of the pastries. Mama turned toward the wall when I brought her a plate.

  I had to convince Mama the phone call was a mean joke. “Come on, Mama. Please eat something. Tomorrow we will try again. Manaña we can find a new number to call. We’ll find Papa. It can’t be true.”

  Once again, I wasn’t sure if we could find him, but I wasn’t giving up. Mr. Mann’s doughnuts sat on the table.

  I closed my hands in prayer. “Please, God. I’ll do anything.”

  I imagined my entire life. How I was supposed to have a father and a mother. Live in an orchard in Mexico. Have a beautiful quinceañera. Graduate from a school and be smart. Marry a nice boy. I was supposed to fix all of this.

  Gone. Finished. It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let it.

  I climbed into bed and held my mother, trying to close the sorrowful space between us.

  CHAPTER 34

  A Smell in the Air

  I woke up with Mama’s arms around me. My T-shirt was wet from all of the crying. The clock read 7:30 a.m.

  “Mama, wake up. We’re late for work.”

  Mama groaned. It sounded the same way as when we were in the truck: low, monotone, and sad. It almost sounded like Mr. Mann spelling his name.

  “Mama. We’ll get in trouble.” Mama rolled over in the bed toward the wall.

  Jorge’s truck was parked at the stand. Customers were already lined up. I grabbed my clothes and ran out the door. I didn’t have time to mother Mama today.

  I pulled on my stained apron. “Señor Jorge. My mother is sick today and can’t work.”

  He growled as several customers walked out of the line. “Why? She didn’t act sick yesterday. Manuela and I are supposed to get our permits today.” He shook his head. “We can’t depend on anyone. I knew things were going too good to be true.”

  My voice cracked as I said it. “Please don’t be mad at us, but something happened last night.” I burst into tears with the rush of last night’s memory. “Someone said Papa was dead.”

  Jorge dropped the tortilla from his hand. “What?”

  “I don’t know…nothing is making sense.” I could feel fast breaths coming out of my mouth, but no air could get into my lungs. The world spun in slow, lazy circles.

  “Niña, what’s happening?”

  I crumbled to the floor of the stand. “He stopped sending telegrams, so we came to find him. We were asking the workers who were coming for food. Last night, someone told us he died.”

  The words came out of my mouth faster than I could think. It felt like the water flowing in the pool. The words splashed out because it just now seemed true.

  Jorge shooed away the customers in line. “Sorry, everybody. Closed for the morning.” He grabbed napkins and wiped the tears from my face. I was crying so hard that I could no longer hold in the sobs while my entire body shook.

  “Calm down, it will be okay,” said Jorge.

  I couldn’t imagine anything being okay. We left everything to find Papa, but now almost everything was gone, including him. I was beginning to believe the phone call. Maybe he was dead.

  Jorge took my hand. “Okay, let me lock things up and we’ll go to your house.”

  “No. It’s just a mistake. I’ll work today, and then Mama and I can continue to look for Papa.” I didn’t want to be fired. Someone had to work.

  “I’m trying to help. No one will starve if we close the stand for one day. Let’s go home and talk to your Mama,” said Jorge.

  We walked across the park as I sucked my breath in and out for air. Jorge’s cross twinkled in the sunshine of the morning. His burly arm around my shoulders felt familiar. The way I fit under the crook of his arm, it just made my heart ache even more. The shadows of the trees had just begun their long walk across the park.

  Jorge called through the door. “Aurora, I’m coming in. Nora told me what happened.”

  Mama twisted in the bed, away from Jorge and the light.

  “Tell me what happened, Aurora. Maybe I can help. You could have told us what was going on. You know we understand about these things,” said Jorge.

  Mama turned over to look at us. Her eyes were so swollen from the crying you couldn’t see the brown of her eyes. “They told me he had been killed in a construction accident. They don’t even know what happened. They said one day he just never came back for his things.”

  “Who is this? How did you call them?” asked Jorge.

  “I found someone who knew him. They gave me this.” Mama held up the stained napkin, now wet with tears.

  “Give me the number so I can call them. Maybe we can get an explanation. Do you have family I can call?”

  I interrupted. “My grandmother lives in Cedula. She doesn’t know about all of this.” My heart ached for Grandma. “We’re illegals. Don’t call the police.”

  Mama pointed to the table where we had collected all of the numbers. “We’ve called so many people. Where is Arturo?”

  Jorge flipped open his cell phone. Then he got into his truck and drove away. I climbed back into bed with Mama and closed my eyes. I held her tight. My job today would be to cling to what we had left.

  Each other.

  CHAPTER 35

  Mr. Bubble

  In the afternoon, Manuela showed up at the door with several bags. She came inside and wrapped her arms around me. She remained quiet as she unpacked the food and prepared dinner.

  The smell of chicken enchiladas filled the room. Manuela walked into the bathroom and filled the tub. I saw a pink plastic bottle, and suddenly the tub filled with bubbles. “Come on, girl, it’s time to wash some of this sadness away. Jump in.”

  The water was hot and soothing. If I closed my eyes, I could feel Grandma’s touch. From the kitchen, warm smells tried to replace the sadness in the room. I could have wrapped the feeling around myself for days, breathing in the scent of safe and comfortable.

  A new towel appeared over my shoulders. It felt thick and scratchy as I dried myself off. Manuela combed my hair in silence. “Just like Tessa.”

  I had heard the name so many times. It was like a ghost floating in and out of the park. “Are you finally going to talk about her?”

  “Tessa was my niece.”

  “I know that part. Where is she now?”

  “She disappeared. She might even be dead. Gang initiation, problems at home. I grew very close to her when she started having problems with her mother, but it wasn’t enough.”

  Silence. What could I say?

  “No one ever went to jail. No one talks about it, and I find myself looking for her everywhere,” said Manuela.

  “I know how you feel.” I felt the sorrow of her grief. I wondered if I would be doing the same thing. Papa had died, but it didn’t hurt like it was supposed to, because I had been mourning him for so long.

  Manuela shook her head. “But today isn’t about my loss. We have to conc
entrate on you. You are here. Tessa is not, and she’ll probably never come back.”

  Out in the kitchen, Mama rummaged through the other bags. She had finally gotten out of bed.

  Manuela left me in the bathroom. She hugged Mama tightly. “I’m sorry. Lo siento. Maybe now we can help?”

  Mama’s tears welled up again as she leaned in to Manuela’s soft shoulder. “Gracias. But I don’t know what to do—he’s gone.”

  I didn’t either. Even though I was clean and the kitchen was full of warm smells, the faint aroma of garbage was still in the air.

  Outside, Mr. Mann put another bag of doughnuts on our stoop. He also laid a braided string cross next to it.

  CHAPTER 36

  Free Fall

  Mama looked so sad that her eyes were dragging on the floor. She barely moved inside the house.

  I was stuck somewhere in between. Should I just give in and cry, or should I do something to prove all of this wrong? Maybe this is what I deserved?

  Papa couldn’t be dead. How could he be dead if we had come all this way?

  Jorge knocked at the door, “Hola.” He spoke in a low voice. It was the way my papa had talked to birds with broken wings as he placed them back into their nests.

  Manuela waved him in. Mama looked out the window, tears in her eyes.

  “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what to do. Where do I start? How do I even find the body?” said Mama.

  The body. The name of it was horrible. Papa was not a body. He was a real person—flesh and blood.

  “No, don’t worry about that right now,” said Jorge. “I’m not sure how to tell you the news.”

  I sensed Jorge knew something we didn’t know.

  “What do you mean?” asked Mama.

  “I mean, I’m not sure that you are ready to hear about what happened,” said Jorge.

  I was tired of not knowing. Papa had been gone for so long; I needed to know just so I could feel something for him, to shake off this numbing cold that was taking over my body.

  “I want to know,” I said. It was easier to pretend to be strong than to wilt in the corner. I had built a brick wall around myself and I clung to it for support.

  Jorge looked at me. “No, I’m sorry; you are too young for this. Why don’t you take a walk or something?”

  I was furious and felt like hitting something again. “Too young? You mean I’m too young to think I’m going to die on the back of a truck, or to take care of my mother, or to earn money for my family?”

  Manuela approached me. “I know you’re upset, but—”

  I didn’t want her pity, either, so I lashed out in whatever way I knew how. “I’m not Tessa, and no amount of babying me will make it better that she disappeared!”

  Manuela held her face like she had just been slapped. “You know she disappeared after the gang thing. She dealt drugs. We couldn’t even have a funeral. Not even a good-bye.”

  “My father didn’t do any of those things! He was just a worker and he didn’t do anything wrong! Where is my good-bye?” Jorge’s and Manuela’s eyes grew large with horror as I screamed my version of the truth.

  But shouting wasn’t enough to quell my anger. “I know I’m here in America, where everything is supposed to be better. But it isn’t. I want to live in a place that doesn’t smell like garbage. I want my quinceañera. I want to be fifteen again.”

  Mama had covered her eyes and tears dripped onto the table from between her hands.

  “I want to know,” I said. “It’s what I have left.”

  “The truth won’t make this easier,” said Jorge.

  My mother finally raised her head. “Please, we both deserve to know.”

  Jorge let out a large sigh. “I spoke to the family Arturo stayed with for a few weeks. Apparently, he fell from a large building where they didn’t have much safety equipment. Several of the men who stayed in the area saw the accident. They think the company dumped him by the work hall.”

  Mama turned white. “They dumped him? Dead?”

  “The company worried the construction site would be shut down because of the illegals. All of the other men left the site because they were afraid. The owner threatened that he would turn them in to Immigration,” said Jorge.

  ¿La migra? Is this why no one would talk?

  Jorge continued, “The family who was renting a room to Arturo says that all of the men have left the area. She didn’t even know which work site. It’s just a rumor to her.”

  A rumor. Then this story might not be true. Papa could be alive.

  “But where is my husband? Did they bury him?” asked Mama.

  I felt my feet starting to burn. The earth began to shake, preparing to swallow me.

  “The woman said she wasn’t sure if the story was true. But I called the city morgue. If it’s him, he’s buried nearby.”

  Buried. Buried. No.

  “How could this happen? Is it really him?” asked Mama.

  At any moment, I would be gobbled up. I felt like a piece of glass, falling from the counter, shattering on the tile.

  “The local police never did much of an investigation. This story is all over the work halls, because the men told me the same version. Every few months, a body is dumped there. The workers think it’s the companies. The police think it’s drug dealers. This happens every day. It’s not even news. I’m so sorry.”

  There was hope. Dear God, please don’t let Papa be dead. “So maybe Papa isn’t—”

  “I’m sorry. The woman at the mission gave me this. She said it was with his things.”

  It was a Western Union receipt with the word “Cedula” written on it. It was wrapped around a small picture of Mama, Grandma, and me.

  CHAPTER 37

  Frozen

  It was true. Papa had only one picture of us. He would never leave it behind.

  Angels did let things fall from the sky. “What have we done to deserve this?” I said to the ceiling, as if God might answer me.

  On one hand, a huge weight of my expectation had been lifted. Here was the answer. Papa wasn’t a promise breaker. But a huge sadness crept into my shoes and was crawling up my legs like a hairy spider. I couldn’t move, or the monster would bite with its poisonous wrath.

  Papa. Gone. Papa. Gone.

  I felt Jorge lift me from the chair and place me into bed. I remember Manuela brushing my hair with her fingers. I didn’t have the energy to fight.

  Time twisted in hazy circles. Was it afternoon? Had months gone by?

  “Tell me about Cedula,” I heard Manuela ask.

  My lips were moving, but it wasn’t me talking. Someone else’s voice knew how to answer the questions.

  “We lived in an orchard with grapefruit. My grandmother has owned it for more than twenty years. My papa was born there,” I said.

  “That sounds nice. Where is your grandmother now?” asked Manuela.

  “In Cedula, waiting for Papa. We send her money from Western Union. We wanted her to come and be here when we found Papa.”

  “I see. Do you have a phone in Cedula?”

  “No, we lived outside the town. I know Hector has a phone in his office.”

  “Who is Hector? How come I’ve never heard of him?”

  “Oh, he runs the bank. We became friends because I went there every week.”

  I felt her fingers rubbing small circles into my back. Grandma would do this whenever I couldn’t sleep, her gentle patting lulling me to sleep.

  “How did you come?” I asked her.

  “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t come to the States, I was born here. My grandmother came across a long time ago.”

  “Tell me the story,” I said as I closed my eyes.

  She murmured the way Grandma used to whisper to me. “She came like lots of people: through the river. She lived with Jorge and me for five years before she died. Would you like to see a picture of her?”

  Manuela opened her purse and brought out a color picture. The woman had white silvery hair
like Grandma, and deep brown eyes. She could have been Grandma’s twin sister.

  “Manuela, she looks like my grandma Isabel.” I realized that I didn’t even have a picture of Grandma. I had been carrying her around in my head.

  I missed everything about my grandmother and her silly grapefruit recipes. It seemed all fruit made me sad or nauseous since the mango incident.

  “Manuela, would you look for Flora? I would really like to see her,” I asked.

  “Sure, honey. Just get some rest,” she answered.

  My eyes closed. I dreamed of sweet-smelling trees and fingers combing through my hair.

  CHAPTER 38

  Unmarked

  I woke up to Mama’s clanking in the kitchen. Fresh doughnuts sat on the table.

  I forced myself to sit up. “Mama, why didn’t you wake me? We’ll be late.”

  Work had been engraved into my head. No work. No money. No nothing.

  “No. Jorge and Manuela are taking a few days to get everything ready for the new restaurant. I think they went to Nuevo Laredo to buy tables and chairs.”

  “So what do we do for money?” I asked.

  “Jorge left us some. He told me not to worry, just to rest.”

  I didn’t want to rest. I wanted to see Papa’s grave.

  “Mama, did Jorge tell you where Papa was?”

  Mama stared at the sink. “Yes. It’s up the road a bit. We can go by bus.”

  I tried to ask for directions to the cemetery from someone who didn’t speak Spanish. The black woman in the shop sneered at us. “I don’t speak none of that Spanish, so you’ll just have to find someone to translate. You should learn to speak English. This is America!”

  We bought flowers at the market. The loud, playful music seemed all wrong today. Once again, we were in a place that was all wrong for us.

  The bus wouldn’t come for an hour, so we waited in the park. There was no sign of Flora, and I wondered if she had disappeared out of my life too.

  Mama pushed me on the swings. I wished I could swing high enough to fly away to Mexico, but my wings never sprouted.