#immigrationshuffle
Steps off of bus. Downtown McAllen. After surrendering to Border Patrol. Given ticket to see judge in 3-6 months. Options are simple: take bus ride to detention center deep in U.S. territory or report to refugee center located 2 blocks south of bus station. Shī barely understands since only knows few words English and not much more Spanish. Shī mostly speaks Quecha. Shī mostly gestures and points on Border Patrol paper map. Shī points at church. Symbol she knows well. Cruz blanco…white cross…salvation she hopes. Shī walks down city block filled with tiendas, parking garages, and loud blasting norteño music. Streets are different yet same somehow. Many brown faces. A few white ones but not too many. Shī was expecting English but this place is more Spanish. More Mexican. Maybe I’m not in America yet, she thinks. But keeps walking to church. Shī goes to first building that looks like church. It is white with big wooden cross on steeple. Has to be it, she thinks. Tries door. It is locked. Hears footsteps. Older woman with glasses answers door. Opens it just a bit, enough for half her face.
“Can I help you?” woman says.
“No hablo ingles. Habla español?” Shī asks.
“Si, mija. ¿Que quieres?”
“Estoy buscando Say-cri-ed Heart.”
“¿Usted es inmigrante, mija?”
Shī nods head while woman explains where to go. Strange, she thinks, she never opened door all the way. Just enough for her to talk. Then shut it hard and fast. Walks past two buildings until she rounds corner and sees six big tents with giant air conditioners making its plastic walls shake. Red Cross truck sits just past gate. TV news vans with names like Telemundo, Galavision, and Univision are at door where woman with blue vest tells her to go in. Woman in blue vest never gets off phone. Everyone speaks Spanish here. Shī walks into building where women with blue vests are everywhere. Clothes in piles. Tables with food. Tables with toothpaste, brushes, and deodorants. No one says anything to her at first but then young girl with hair in bun walks up and says, “Hola. ¿Puedo ayudarle?”
Shī explains her story to girl. Long walks in desert. Riding on top of trains. Same shoes. Same clothes. Same everything for days. Girl with hair in bun tells her many things, some she doesn’t understand. Shī knows Spanish but only a little. When she attempts to tell girl with bun in hair that she doesn’t speak Spanish well, girl cuts her off. Girl with hair in bun shows her to room with small shower and plastic curtain. Shī smiles for first time in weeks. Girl in bun tells her that she will have new clothes when she is done. Shī smiles again. Shī takes shower and sees new clothes on chair waiting for her. Shī puts on new clothes. Feels like new person. No longer dirty. No longer Shi. Girl in bun comes around corner and asks, “why no bra and panties?”
Look comes over her face that takes her back to the Shī she was before shower. Shī looks at girl with hair in bun and tells her that coyotes made her hang them from tree after… Girl in bun looks horrified. Becomes speechless. Shī looks at girl and steps closer and tells her that it is okay. Shī smiles again because she took pill before. No baby.
#rapetreesarereal
iTELEGRAM
Haldon Cruces [Donna, TX] to Rowena Garza [Albquerque, NM]
Message:
I heard a strange sound when I was on the road {stop} It was night and I was somewhere around King Ranch {stop} I was definitely south of Sarita checkpoint. {stop} Had pulled over to take a piss and thought I heard a woman scream {stop} Didn’t know exactly what it was {stop} At first I thought it was a coyote or maybe a goat {stop} but deep down I knew it was something horrible {stop} I contemplated whether I should check it out {stop} My conscience told me that I had to check, so I did. {stop} I zipped up and turned on the flashlight app. {stop} At first I thought I saw the shadow of three people run across the darkened brush {stop} Maybe it was the ghosts of immigrants that never quite made it {stop} But I knew better. {stop} Walked up to the barbed wire fence. {stop} I knew it was ranch land and private property but the sounds of a woman crying forced me to trespass. {stop} What I saw, bro, was worse than anything I could have imagined. {stop} First I saw a tree with strange leaves {stop} The woman was lying on the ground wearing only a shirt {stop} No pants, no panties, just a pair of sandals and a white shirt with a pink ribbon on it {stop} The shirt read, Help End Breast Cancer. {stop} Don’t know why that is important, but it is {stop} She looked at me and told me in Spanish {stop} “Leave me before they come back and kill you.” {stop} I told her in my best broken Spanish that I had a car and I could take her where she needed to go {stop} She looked at me, not ready to trust me {stop} She hung her bra and panties from a tree and said {stop} She couldn’t go with me because the coyotes would find her and kill her {stop} I explained that this is America and the Border Patrol are only a few miles up the road {stop} “We can make it,” I told her. {stop} She agreed and she followed me back to my car. {stop} I turned to look one last time {stop} Too many bras. Too many panties. Too many strange leaves {stop} My heart was pounding waiting for the coyotes to jump out and kill us {stop} But that never happened, she got in my car {stop} I told her my name and asked hers {stop} She told me her name was Shi, I didn’t argue {stop} We sped down the road to the checkpoint and I pulled over {stop} I did something I have never done and flagged down the first BP I could find {stop} I told him my story and at first he didn’t believe me {stop} But then when she corroborated the story they took her inside the station {stop} I was there 3 hours before they let me go {stop} I asked what was going to happen to her {stop} BP guy told me that she was going to be processed and probably let go {stop} I couldn’t believe my ears {stop} I thought for sure they would deport her {stop} BP guy told me no because she was the victim of a crime {stop} she gets a special visa and gets to see a judge {stop} Crazy right? I didn’t know {stop} I got to speak to her one last time, then I gave her my card {stop} told her I lived in McAllen and if she needed anything {stop} Don’t know if I will ever see her again {stop} I did my good deed for the day {stop} Catch you later bro, write back as soon as you get this {stop}
#roadisalwaysbumpyanddark
Shī doesn’t know what to do. Road is bumpy. Back of van is backed so tight, legs are starting to cramp from not being able to move. Shī closes her eyes and hopes ride is almost over. How many in here, she asks herself. Too many, she answers. Maybe ten, maybe more. Shī is only young girl by herself in this van. Others are mother and grandmother’s age. Shī was sent alone. Mother didn’t want her back home. Shī was fourteen about to be fifteen. Men on streets back in Guatemala starting to notice growing breasts on chest. Ass being shaped by growing hips. Thinning face and fuller lips. Mother tells her she is becoming a woman now. Shī thought she was woman when turned 13 she bled for first time. Men didn’t look at her then. Now body aging faster than mind. Now Shī is woman.
Shī looks around darkened van. No real seats. No windows. Just smell of people sardined. At first, it bothered her. Now, she doesn’t even smell anymore. Other groups almost all made up of kids her age. This group is mostly grandfathers, mothers without children, and young men with fear in eyes and hope in heart. One woman asks if she is scared. Shī thinks it is strange question. Aren’t we all? she replies. Woman whose name is Benita Gomez-Santander touches her shoulder and smiles. Smile is most distraught she has ever seen.
“No,” she says, “Are you scared of these men?”
Shī has not really thought of it. She knew what the unspoken penalty was going to be, so she puts thought out of mind. For sanity. Shī asks Benita, “Are you scared?”
Benita looks at her and smiles again. This time the way a mother looks at daughter knowing that something terrible is coming and she can’t stop or protect her. “Mijita,” Benita says, “This isn’t my first ride.”
Shī just looks down and Benita just holds her until van stops and sound of car doors opening and closing is heard. Benita then puts something in her hand and says, “Take this.”
Shī is confused and doesn’t react, so Benita looks her dead in eye and says, “Take it, por favor, now!”
Shī only has swallow left of water and so she does as Benita asked. She swallows pill. Tastes bitter. Benita hugs one last time and says, “No baby. Not for you.”
She feels hot tear trickle down Benita’s cheek and onto her forehead.
#refugeegirlatmydoorstep
Rowena Garza: Yeah?
Haldon Cruces: Dude, I need your help.
Rowena: What’s going on, man?
Haldon: You remember that telegram I sent you about the girl I rescued?
Rowena: Yeah, that was weird.
Haldon: Well, she’s here.
Rowena: Wait, what do you mean she’s there?
Haldon: She’s here at my house.
Rowena: How’d she find you?
Haldon: I gave her my card.
Rowena: Why’d you do that?
Haldon: I don’t know. I just did.
Rowena: Well now she’s your problem.
Haldon: Thanks, I know that.
Rowena: How old is she?
Haldon: I don’t know, thirteen maybe. Why?
Rowena: Because you’re a thirty-five year old man, recently divorced, with an underage immigrant girl in your apartment.
Haldon: Dude, I’m not a pedophile. She’s a kid.
Rowena: And stop calling me dude. I’m a woman now. Doesn’t my voice sound silky smooth like Angelina Jolie in Salt?
Haldon: Rowena, I know you’re a woman now. But you sound more like Harvey Firestone in Mrs. Doubtfire.
Rowena: FU, you just jealous.
Haldon: Rowena, can we focus on one problem at a time here?
Rowena: Alright, Hal, honey. Is there a social worker you can call?
Haldon: The social worker dropped her off here.
Rowena: The social worker drove her to your house? Why would they do that?
Haldon: Because all she had on her was my business card.
Rowena: Why would you put your home address on your business card anyway? You’re a writer. There are a lot of Misery creeps out there.
Haldon: Rowena focus.
Rowena: Alright already. Tell the social worker you can’t take her in.
Haldon: I did that already. Vanessa told me she had nowhere else to go. She has no family here.
Rowena: Whose Vanessa?
Haldon: The social worker.
Rowena: Oh okay. Ummm….I don’t know, honey. You are in uncharted territory here. What are the girl’s options?
Haldon: Going to a detention center somewhere deep in the Midwest or…
Rowena: Or what?
Haldon: Staying here.
Rowena: You want to take care of this girl, don’t you?
Haldon: I don’t know.
Rowena: I hear it in your voice. She is not your problem. You did more than anyone can expect. You rescued that girl.
Haldon: But I feel responsible for her.
Rowena: Oh Hal. You and your conscience. They always get you in trouble.
Haldon: What do I do?
Rowena: You already took her in, didn’t you?
Haldon: [silence]…yes I did.
Rowena: Then why you calling?
Haldon: You know why?
Rowena: I’m your friend, not your mother or your wife. You don’t need my permission.
Haldon: Just your support.
Rowena: You always have that.
Haldon: What now?
Rowena: I don’t know, honey. I’ll be down for the holidays. Keep me posted. Ciao.
Haldon: Yeah, later.
Rowena: Hit me up on Facebook. Give me progress report pics.
Haldon: Yeah, I will.
#journeybeginswith5thousand$$
Shī hates Mama because she took all their money. Everything. Took it and gave it to man with busy beard. Breath like cerveza and eyes that always undress her. Mama says Guatemala is no place for indias bonitas. No place for young girls like Shī. Not anymore. Shī asks, what about her, but Mama says, Shī was more important. Go to U.S., Mama says. Go to U.S. and have better life. Coyote tells Mama that all Shī has to do is get across Mexican border, turn self into U.S. Migra and Shī would be free to be American. He also wants 5 thousand dollars, American and a night with Mama. He wanted night with Shi, but Mama won’t have it. Threatens to cut off huevos with butcher knife if he tries. Don’t know how Mama will protect when Shī is on road with him. Don’t know if Mama lets that thought invade. Don’t think she wants it to. She cries all night before truck showed up. 4 am. 20 others in back of old truck. Shī doesn’t want to leave Mama. Mama is all Shī has left. Papa was killed by gang coming home from mines one night. Al least that is what Mama thinks. That was two weeks ago. Mama struggled to pay for both of them with waitressing and making pan dulce, but not enough. Never enough. Don’t know how Mama gets money to pay Coyote. When asked, Mama refuses to tell. Has something to do with man who owns restaurant where Mama works. Shī wants to cry when she got on truck. Mama sees it on her face. But doesn’t cry. Mama is always strong. But just before truck pulls away Shī sees single tear fall from corner of Mama’s eye glistening in moonlight.
Christopher Carmona was the inaugural writer-in-residence for the Langdon Review Writers Residency Program in 2015. His story, ³Strange Leaves,² was the third finalist in the Texas Observer Short Story Contest of 2014. He was also a Pushcart Prize nominee in 2013. He has been published in numerous journals and magazines including Trickster Literary Journal, Interstice, vandal., Bordersenses, & the Sagebrush Review. His first collection of short stories entitled, The Road to Llorona Park was published by Stephen F. Austin University Press in 2016. He has recently edited an anthology called Outrage: A Protest Anthology about Injustice in a Post 9/11 World for Slough Press and was a co-editor for The Beatest State In The Union: An Anthology of Beat Texas Writing. He was also co-author for a scholarly conversation book entitled Nuev@s Voces Poeticas: A Dialogue about New Chican@ Identities and he has two collections of poetry: beat and I Have Always Been Here. Finally, he is the Artistic Director of the Coalition of New Chican@ Artists.