Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

“When you work with some of our people on the landscaping, you hear stories.” He grew almost angry. “That is why you should think twice, Delia. No matter how bad things are here, they can’t be as bad as they will be if you return to Mexico.”

“Believe me, they are,” I said.

He stared a moment and then looked out the window. “He’s here,” he said. “Come on, then.”

We returned to the kitchen to pick up the knapsacks and walked out to meet the driver his father’s friend had sent. His name was Escobar. Before he could complain about me, Ignacio handed him three hundred-dollar bills.

“For her ticket on the van,” he said.

“These are not the arrangements that have been made with the guide,” Escobar told him.

“We’ll take care of that when we get there.”

“Suit yourself. Get in the van quickly,” Escobar said, opening the rear doors.

Ignacio got in first and extended his hand for me but held it back just a little.

“This could be your last chance, Delia.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going,” I said, and he seized my hand firmly.

I got into the van, and Escobar closed the door. We sat on the floor. It was already very hot, with the van’s engine off and no air conditioning.

“This is nothing,” Ignacio said, seeing me wipe my brow, “compared to what’s coming.”

“You might as well save your strength for the journey, Ignacio. I will not change my mind.”

He nodded, and then we heard Escobar open the door and get into the van. He looked back at us.

“It’s a very long trip,” he warned. “Is it wise to take her?”

“Yes,” I said, answering for Ignacio.

Escobar shrugged, started the engine, and slowly drove out of the yard. The van bounced hard onto the road, and he sped up. When we reached the freeway, Escobar turned on his radio, and at least we had music. Ignacio stared at me. His face finally seemed to relax, his eyes warming.

“What is it?” I asked.

“For me, it’s like I’ve been joined by an angel,” he said.

I did not feel like an angel. I felt like a fugitive, but for his sake and perhaps my own, I smiled and lowered my head to his strong shoulder. I was tired from not sleeping much the night before, but I didn’t want him to know how tired. Nevertheless, my eyes closed. I pictured Abuela Anabela, at first surprised and angry and then filled with happiness. Once again, we would sleep in the same room and say our prayers together. The simple life that had seemed so poor and difficult now looked like the promised land Ignacio thought we were leaving. The music, the drone of the tires on the highway, the bounce in the van as it rolled on composed themselves into a lullaby. In minutes, I was fast asleep.

Ignacio did not want us to eat or drink anything from our knapsacks. Escobar, tired of driving himself, pulled into a roadside fast-food restaurant after three hours. I had slept nearly all the way, and Ignacio had fallen asleep as well.

“We can stop here to get something and go to the bathroom,” Escobar told us.

I went directly to the bathroom and washed my face and neck in cold water. Then I came out and ordered a chicken sandwich with fries. We drank lemonades and ate at a corner table. No one paid any particular attention to us. Escobar checked his watch and told us we were on time, but we would have to go all the way without stopping now. We left, and he filled the gas tank before we drove back to the freeway.

It was dark by the time we reached Tucson. We could see the city lights. It was the biggest city I had been in at night, and the illumination both fascinated and frightened me. Escobar made some turns and finally came to a stop on a dark street in front of what looked like an auto body shop. Ignacio started to get up.

“Wait,” Escobar said. “Let me see first.” He got out and walked to the shop door. It was

barely lit inside. He looked through the window, then turned and looked around. Whoever we were to meet was obviously not in there.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Ignacio said.

We saw what looked like a flash of car headlights, and then Escobar walked down the street to a dark automobile. He stood by it and spoke with the driver. After a few more moments, he returned to the van.