by Adi Alsaid
Leila continued to lead them north through the trees. Her steps were short, cautious, her arms out in front of her in the dark. “Nope,” she said after a moment. “There was this guy. I thought maybe something could happen with him. But that doesn’t look likely anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Ow!” Leila cried out. “Watch out for those bushes. They’re thorny.” Leila held them aside with her sleeve so Sonia could pass. “We had a big fight.”
“Do you still talk to him?”
“I send him postcards,” Leila said. “But I haven’t heard from him in a while. Since I last saw him, actually.”
“How long ago was that?”
“For as long as I’ve been traveling. Almost two months now.” They walked for a few more measured steps, trying to avoid tripping on a branch or stepping into bear crap.
Leila stopped again suddenly. She held up a hand, motioning for Sonia to be still. Sonia looked around, trying to determine what had made Leila stop but seeing only the rich blackness of the forest.
“Leila, if you say something’s neighing again, I swear—”
“All right, ladies,” a deep voice bellowed, making them both jump. “You’ve had your fun. Time to turn around now.”
Sonia couldn’t see him right away. In fact, until Leila pulled out her phone and pointed the screen in the agent’s direction, Sonia hadn’t really grasped who had spoken or from where. The officer wore a baseball cap and was leaning against a tree. He seemed bulky, and when he clicked on his flashlight, Sonia realized it was on the bulletproof vest he was wearing, with all the little contraptions attached to it. He shone the light on their faces, and for a moment he disappeared behind the glare as Sonia’s pupils adjusted to the light. Sonia waited for a team of officers to cuff her, her stomach tying itself into a knot. Any minute now, someone would start yelling the Miranda rights at her.
“You’re Americans?”
“Yes,” they both answered.
The border agent had barely shifted from his relaxed stance against the tree. It almost looked like he was on a smoke break.
“Okay, good. Thank you for attempting to visit Canada. Please have a safe trip back home. In the future, please come through an approved entry point, where border patrol services can properly document your visit.”
Leila turned to look over her shoulder at Sonia. She looked just as confused as Sonia felt. “Sir, we’re really sorry, we just—“
He stepped away from the tree, and Sonia was shocked to see that he was smiling. “I think my wife is getting tired of my ‘you’ll never believe what they told me’ stories.” He put his hands on his hips. “Did you really think you were just going to walk across the border?”
Neither of them offered up an answer.
“Unfortunately, you guys decided to walk right past my bathroom,” he said, pointing at a tree and chuckling to himself.
“So, you’re letting us go?” Sonia squeaked out.
“Have you ever filed paperwork this late at night? It’s awful. Whatever your reason for trying to walk across the border, I don’t want to hear it. You look like nice girls.” He paused, seeming to recall something. He pointed the flashlight back at Sonia’s attire, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe a little strange, but nice. Just go back home to your parents.”
He didn’t have to tell Sonia twice. She grabbed Leila’s arm and turned them around, speed-walking back the way they’d come, thankful that they weren’t in handcuffs.
“I can’t tell if I’m more relieved that we’re not in jail, or pissed that we didn’t make it through,” Leila said.
“Let’s go with relieved,” Sonia said, although, with the rings pressing against her chest through the breast pocket of Jeremiah’s jacket, she wasn’t so sure. At first, they rushed through the woods, using their cell-phone screens to light the way back. But little by little, their pace slowed, maybe as they simultaneously realized that they would reach Leila’s car in the motel parking lot with the same unsolved problem. With every step Sonia took, the rings grew heavier in her pocket.
Sonia knew there was only one other thing she could do, but the thought of it was so unappealing that she imagined all sorts of wild contingencies—how long would it take to get a fake passport? How easy would it be to skydive near the border and accidentally drift into Canada?—before allowing herself to admit it. She would have to go back home and beg her family for help.
4
WHEN THEY PULLED up to Sonia’s house in Tacoma, the sun was shining between a spattering of grayish clouds. Mount Rainier loomed large over the city, its peak still white with snow, like some enormous sentinel standing guard over the city. Sonia felt a sense of panic, realizing that the wedding would start in only a few hours.
Both her parents’ cars were in the driveway. They hadn’t been washed in weeks, dust clinging to the windows in the shape of raindrops. Even if they were both home, the chances were that they had to go to work, and “Thou Shalt Go to Work” was commandment number one in Sonia’s household. She didn’t hold out much hope that they’d be able to help, even if they were willing. It was times like these that she ached for parents like Sam’s, who’d drop anything for the sake of their children.
Since her house keys had also been in her purse, Sonia rang the doorbell. The sound of arguing came from inside, and she could hear her dad stomping over, muttering to himself. He answered with an angry expression on his face, as if he’d already started an argument in his head with whoever had rung his doorbell so early in the morning. He was in his baggage-handler uniform, a cup of coffee in his hand. When he saw that it was Sonia, he said, “Oh. Hi. Everything okay? ” he said, already turning back inside, leaving the door open for them.
“Yeah. You guys have work?” Sonia said, leading Leila into the house.
“Sure do,” her dad replied, making his way back to the living room.
Sonia sighed. Mitch was her only chance, then.
All the curtains in the house were shut, which was no surprise. The light inside the house was permanently bleak, almost like Tacoma itself. Her parents were both seated in the living room, drinking coffee and eating microwavable egg burritos. Her dad plopped himself down on his chair, filling out his crossword puzzle. Her mom was on the couch, watching her favorite morning talk show.
Sonia’s mom took another bite of her burrito and chewed with that faint smacking sound that drove Sonia crazy. The whole house smelled of beans and fake cheddar cheese. After her bite, she finally noticed Sonia and Leila standing by the couch. “Morning. I thought you had somewhere to be today. Work?”
“I took the weekend off,” she said, wondering if her mom even remembered the wedding.
“I’m gonna need you to get the oil changed on my car, then, since I gave you a ride on Wednesday.”
Sonia ignored the comment. She glanced at Leila, embarrassed that her parents hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Is Mitch home?”
Her mom snorted. “Where else would he be?”
Sonia motioned for Leila to follow her. They crossed the living room toward the staircase, drawing a muffled protest as they blocked the TV. A thin film of dust covered the handrail, and Sonia felt herself blush with shame. She’d never really talked about her family with anyone, not even Sam or Jeremiah, choosing instead to deal with them in her writing. She didn’t understand her parents, how they’d fallen into the loop of work and irritability that seemed to define their lives. Or why they’d even chosen to become parents, since they had never once shown affection toward Sonia or her brother. In her writing, she could at least fake a familiarity with her parents’ backstories, their motivations for living life as if it were a curse handed down to them.
Avoiding the basket of dirty laundry at the top of the stairs, Sonia and Leila moved down the hall. Sonia’s cell phone buzzed again.
i’m starting to get a little worr
ied. where are you?
She put the phone away and knocked on Mitch’s door. “I haven’t been in his room in a while, but if nothing’s changed, get ready for an unpleasant smell,” she warned Leila. Then she knocked again and pushed open the door.
The smell was practically tangible. It was a stink bomb of traditional-teen-boy smells—socks, sweat, the general muskiness of a body immune to its own offensive odor—mixed in with who knows what else: spilled beverages soaking deep into the fibers of the carpet, forgotten snacks rotting on his computer desk, the combined exhalations of weeks’ worth of morning breath marinating in the stagnant air.
Sonia immediately started breathing through her mouth, while behind her Leila gagged. Mitch was snoring lightly, one foot hanging off the side of his bed. In the gray light coming through the blinds, Sonia could make out a white thread clinging to his neck-beard.
“Mitch,” she whispered. He didn’t stir. “Mitch,” she said again, a little louder. He groaned and reached for a pillow, throwing it in her direction but missing. “Mitch, I need a favor.”
He turned away from them. “Go away.”
Sonia took a step forward, avoiding something she couldn’t identify on the ground. “You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency. I really need your help.”
Mitch groaned and scooted farther away, pressing his face against the wall. “Sleep,” he said, slurring a few more words afterward that Sonia couldn’t make out.
Leila brought her T-shirt over her nose. “Mitch,” she said, almost a yell. “Your sister needs your help. Wake up.”
Intrigued by the unfamiliar voice, Mitch turned back and opened his eyes. He squinted as if the light inside the room was overwhelming. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Leila. Now listen to your sister.”
Mitch scratched at his beard, the thread that had been hanging there coming loose onto his pillow, probably to be reacquired by his facial hair at a later time. “All right, I’m listening.” From beneath the sheets she could hear the sound of him scratching.
Sonia fought the urge to tell him how disgusting he was. “I need a favor. It’s going to sound a little strange, but you know I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Just say it already.”
“I need you to drive to Canada for me.”
“Get the hell out of here,” he said, turning back toward the wall.
“Mitch, I’m serious. It’s a long story, but I have Liz’s wedding rings, and the wedding is today. I have no way to get there.”
Mitch groaned again. “Fill up my gas tank and give me fifty bucks, and I’ll let you take my car.”
“You’re not listening. I can’t get into Canada. I lost my passport. I just need you to drive there and drop off the rings. I’ll pay for the gas.”
“You want me to drive to Canada?”
“It’s just three hours each way.”
Mitch laughed. “Have you been stealing from my stash? There’s no way I’m going to drive six hours for you.”
Sonia felt herself tear up. “Mitch, please. You’re the only person I can ask. If you don’t go, the wedding will be ruined.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem, now, is it?”
“I’m going to hit him,” Leila said, still speaking through her shirt. She didn’t make any move toward him, though, and Sonia was too distraught to think of what else to do. She was used to apathy from her family, but deep down she’d thought that if she really needed them, they would put their petty selfishness aside. It wasn’t pleasant to be proven wrong.
Not knowing what else to do, Sonia stood right where she was. She wished Leila would actually hit Mitch.
“Go talk to Stoner Timmy,” Mitch mumbled.
“What?”
“Stoner Timmy. You can find him at the Tim Hortons in Bellingham. He runs some sort of business into Canada. He’s not exactly the most law-abiding guy around, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it involves the smuggling of something or other. He might know how to get you across.”
Okay, so it wasn’t the biggest favor, but Sonia wanted to hug Mitch for at least being a little bit helpful. But the smell made her hesitate, and then he yelled at her and Leila to get out of his room.
She knew it was a long shot, but Sonia was willing to accept any tiny amount of hope. Any lead, no matter how unlikely, was a chance that she wasn’t going to ruin the wedding. They stopped by Sonia’s room so she could change into more normal clothes, then rushed back down the stairs and across the living room, eliciting some complaints from her parents for making a ruckus in the morning. Then they climbed into Leila’s car and headed to Bellingham to meet Stoner Timmy.
5
AS SOON AS Sonia and Leila entered the Tim Hortons, they spotted Stoner Timmy. “That’s gotta be him, right?” Leila said, pointing out a guy in his late twenties sitting at a table by the window. He had dirty-blond hair that looked almost silky up front but was dreadlocked in the back. He wore plaid shorts, cracked leather sandals, argyle socks, and, despite the heat, a tie-dyed hoodie. About half a dozen cardboard cups littered his table, and he was using one as an ashtray. How he was getting away with smoking inside a rather small coffee shop wasn’t clear, but it didn’t seem as if anyone minded. He was scribbling fervently into a notebook, occasionally grinning to himself.
“My God,” Sonia sighed, and she got into the two-person-long line for the counter. “I get the feeling I’m gonna need a cup of coffee just to get through this conversation.”
“Good call,” Leila said. “How are we doing on time?”
Sonia clicked her phone on. “The ceremony starts at three, so we have about six hours left for that guy to smuggle us into Canada. No big deal.” Sonia looked up at the familiar menu. There weren’t any Tim Hortons as far south as Tacoma, but Sam’s family was Canadian and insisted on stopping at one on every road trip. She decided to order Sam’s favorite drink and doughnut, then turned to Leila, who was still studying the overhead menu.
“I don’t think you’ve told me,” Sonia said after Leila placed her order. “Why are you on this trip? Why do you want to see the Northern Lights?”
“I’ve always kind of been obsessed with astronomy. It’s probably what I’ll study when I go to school.” Leila took her change, and they stepped out of line, lingering by the counter to wait for their drinks. They both unconsciously turned to Stoner Timmy, who had lit a fresh cigarette and was now doodling on one of the coffee cups. “But more than that, I think I was destined to meet Stoner Timmy. Screw the Lights. This is it.”
Sonia laughed, but her curiosity had been piqued. Then their order was called, and Sonia, hungrier than she had realized, immediately bit into her doughnut, effectively changing the subject.
The maple-glazed doughnut tasted like Sam. Or, rather, not Sam himself, but the two years she’d been with him. She took another bite. The choice of doughnut had been at once a mistake and a deep comfort.
“Shall we?” Leila said, motioning toward the smoky table.
Slipping her hand into the jacket folded over her forearm to make sure the rings were still in the breast pocket, Sonia nodded and took the lead. Stoner Timmy—presumably anyway—was popping open the lids of all the cups on his table and examining the contents. When she got close enough, Sonia could see that each cup was half-full, the liquids inside too varied in color to be just coffee-based. “Stoner Timmy?”
Stoner Timmy looked up from his experiment with the cups. He narrowed his eyes in a way that seemed theatric and took a puff from his cigarette. He looked from Sonia to Leila and then back at Sonia. He was not clean-shaven, but his facial hair could hardly be called a beard. He fixed his eyes on Sonia. “I dig your eyebrows, man. Very avant-garde.”
“Um,” Sonia said, not sure at all how to take the comment. “Thanks. Hi. You are Stoner Timmy?”
“I�
�ve been known to respond to that name, sure. Whether I have any rights to the name is up to the gods. Or nature. Or, you know, the social security office. The man,” he said, stretching out the vowel and wiggling his fingers in front of his face like a puppeteer.
“Jesus Christ.” Leila chuckled behind Sonia. “This is going to be interesting.”
Stoner Timmy took another puff of his half-smoked cigarette. Then, without any clear reason, he tossed the cigarette into one of the cups and immediately lit another one. “You seek my assistance?” he said, motioning at the two chairs across from him.
Sonia sat down warily, a little flabbergasted by the thought that this guy could help her solve even the smallest of problems, much less manage to smuggle her into Canada. Leila, on the other hand, sat down in a rush, composing herself quickly, though her eyes still beamed with excitement. “Yes,” Sonia started, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “We heard that you can get people across the border.”
Stoner Timmy looked out the window and nodded solemnly. Sonia suspected this was done purely for appearance’s sake. “I know the way into the Great White North, it’s true.” He stroked his chin as if a long white beard flowed from it, instead of the odd tuft of hair that actually sprung from his face.
“So you can get us through?” Sonia said, dubious. “How?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stoner Timmy held up his hands. “What’s with all the questions?”
A snicker escaped Leila. Stoner Timmy seemed not to have noticed.
“It’s just really important that I get across, and I want to make sure I’m not wasting my time here. If you can get us through, tell us what we need to do.”
“Rest assured, She with the Interesting Eyebrows. I make several trips a day. My livelihood depends on it,” he said, making a sweeping motion over the table, as if the coffee cups bespoke great wealth. “But before I explain the how, I’ve got some questions of my own.”