is some paper that pertains to my case, but instead he takes out a candy bar. My mouth begins to salivate and I am surprised at how hungry I am. He offers some to his aide, who declines, and then he offers some to me. “Yes, I’ll just have a little piece.” The candy is dry with the flavor of fruit, but the sugar feels good on my tongue.
“And then,” he goes on, “there is the problem of the return flight …”
“Because there’s no flight until next week.”
Major Lorenzo smiles. “Yes, that’s the other problem.”
I ponder this for a moment. It seems to me that I should leave as soon as I can. It’s this nagging feeling at the back of my brain, but I know that sooner would be better than later. “Major Lorenzo,” I say, “I was just wondering …”
“Yes,” he says, smiling.
“I was wondering, do I have to go back to where I came from? I mean, couldn’t you deport me to Cancún or Jamaica? You have flights that go there all the time and I am sure my company would pay for it.” Montego Bay suddenly appeals to me. Or Negril. I’ll call Todd and have him fly down with Jessica and meet me. We’ll snorkel off Sunrise Cove, eatingjerk beef and garlic shrimp at Papa Joe’s, shoot pool with the Rastamen at Zulu’s. This seems like the thing to do.
Major Lorenzo looks perplexed because it is not up to him if I am to stay or to go. He really is only carrying out orders. The two men exchange glances. “It is not so simple,” Major Lorenzo says. The guard with the reflector shades is young and good-looking, and he grins at me in his rearview mirror, but this is not a come-on; it is a complicit smile. Because I have come up with a clever solution to this problem. “There is a possibility …,” the Major says. “Let me look into it.”
“Cancún,” I tell him. “Montego Bay.” Or anywhere. If they are going to deport me, I have this feeling that they had better do it soon.
Major Lorenzo nods, but his face is solemn and I feel he knows something he is not telling me. He looks as if he is the deliverer of terrible news, and I think to myself as long as no one mentions Isabel, as long as her name never leaves my lips, I’ll get out of here soon.
“All right,” Major Lorenzo says as we pull up in front of my hotel, “I’ll see what I can do.” This time he does not get out of the car when the aide opens my door. He stays inside and gives me a short wave. But I know he is watching me as I walk into the hotel.
When I get upstairs to my room, there is a man literally tapping my phone. He has the phone turned upside down in his hand and he holds a small pencil with which he taps the back of the phone. “Is everything all right?” I ask.
“Oh, yes,” he replies. “Just a little static.” He taps again, grins at me, then a few moments later he is gone. What is this dime-store novel I’m trapped in? Cheap thrills, low-level espionage.What’s next? Laser guns, poison-pen notes, secret missions?
When he leaves, I want to call home, but I hesitate. What have they done to my phone? What would I say? It is three o’clock and I wonder what Todd and Jessica are doing right now. When I am away, he picks her up after school. He is probably getting her a snack—cookies with milk, a slice of pizza.
I phone the operator and ask her to place the call, but she tells me all the circuits to the States are busy. Try back in an hour or so, she says. I plead with her. “Please,” I say, “it is very important.” I feel desperate to get through, as if my life depends on it, though, of course, I don’t think it does.
“I am sorry,” she tells me, “but I have no line.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. If I close my eyes, I think I will weep. I can see Todd making a butter-and-sugar sandwich. Jessica has her dolls lined up on the counter. There’s Ernestine, Bangor, and Rudy. We don’t know where the names come from but Jessica gave them those names as soon as she got
“And then,” he goes on, “there is the problem of the return flight …”
“Because there’s no flight until next week.”
Major Lorenzo smiles. “Yes, that’s the other problem.”
I ponder this for a moment. It seems to me that I should leave as soon as I can. It’s this nagging feeling at the back of my brain, but I know that sooner would be better than later. “Major Lorenzo,” I say, “I was just wondering …”
“Yes,” he says, smiling.
“I was wondering, do I have to go back to where I came from? I mean, couldn’t you deport me to Cancún or Jamaica? You have flights that go there all the time and I am sure my company would pay for it.” Montego Bay suddenly appeals to me. Or Negril. I’ll call Todd and have him fly down with Jessica and meet me. We’ll snorkel off Sunrise Cove, eatingjerk beef and garlic shrimp at Papa Joe’s, shoot pool with the Rastamen at Zulu’s. This seems like the thing to do.
Major Lorenzo looks perplexed because it is not up to him if I am to stay or to go. He really is only carrying out orders. The two men exchange glances. “It is not so simple,” Major Lorenzo says. The guard with the reflector shades is young and good-looking, and he grins at me in his rearview mirror, but this is not a come-on; it is a complicit smile. Because I have come up with a clever solution to this problem. “There is a possibility …,” the Major says. “Let me look into it.”
“Cancún,” I tell him. “Montego Bay.” Or anywhere. If they are going to deport me, I have this feeling that they had better do it soon.
Major Lorenzo nods, but his face is solemn and I feel he knows something he is not telling me. He looks as if he is the deliverer of terrible news, and I think to myself as long as no one mentions Isabel, as long as her name never leaves my lips, I’ll get out of here soon.
“All right,” Major Lorenzo says as we pull up in front of my hotel, “I’ll see what I can do.” This time he does not get out of the car when the aide opens my door. He stays inside and gives me a short wave. But I know he is watching me as I walk into the hotel.
When I get upstairs to my room, there is a man literally tapping my phone. He has the phone turned upside down in his hand and he holds a small pencil with which he taps the back of the phone. “Is everything all right?” I ask.
“Oh, yes,” he replies. “Just a little static.” He taps again, grins at me, then a few moments later he is gone. What is this dime-store novel I’m trapped in? Cheap thrills, low-level espionage.What’s next? Laser guns, poison-pen notes, secret missions?
When he leaves, I want to call home, but I hesitate. What have they done to my phone? What would I say? It is three o’clock and I wonder what Todd and Jessica are doing right now. When I am away, he picks her up after school. He is probably getting her a snack—cookies with milk, a slice of pizza.
I phone the operator and ask her to place the call, but she tells me all the circuits to the States are busy. Try back in an hour or so, she says. I plead with her. “Please,” I say, “it is very important.” I feel desperate to get through, as if my life depends on it, though, of course, I don’t think it does.
“I am sorry,” she tells me, “but I have no line.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. If I close my eyes, I think I will weep. I can see Todd making a butter-and-sugar sandwich. Jessica has her dolls lined up on the counter. There’s Ernestine, Bangor, and Rudy. We don’t know where the names come from but Jessica gave them those names as soon as she got
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