A Desperate Call — Part 2
From the previous chapter ….
After receiving the startling news that I had to leave the country, I embarked on a bumpy journey to the US, hoping to find a solution to my predicament. After the incident at the Mexican border
The expedition continues…
Back on the bus, I faced the disdainful stares of fellow passengers, holding the government document that dictated my uncertain future. But amidst the chaos and despair, an unexpected turn of events gleamed on the horizon.
I took back my seat feeling like I was just hit by a tornado. A kind-hearted woman in the adjacent seat noticed my distress. She listened with an empathic ear as I was pouring out my woes. But she did not leave it at that, without any hesitations, she invited me to stay at her house — at the house of her daughter and grandchildren, rather. Even after all these years, I can still remember Domitila and her family.
When we reached her place, they decided it was too late to cross the border, but her grandson Ricardo offered to accompany me the next day. Once that was settled, they invited me to a party. What an ironic turn of fate! Instead of weeping in a motel over my rotten luck, I ended up dancing with strangers who generously opened the door to their home and their hearts.
The next day, walking into the kitchen, I was met by the smell of eggs with ham and fresh bread and found Ricardo pouring me a glass of orange juice. Once we’d gathered our strength and bundled up against the cold, we set out on the excursion to cross the border and reach the US. Poor Ricardo! Despite making the crossing almost daily, fate seemed to conspire against him as he got stopped at customs, facing a near-halt on our path! I started breathing again when they finally released him.
As soon as we reached American soil, we headed to the Mexican Consulate for a new tourist visa, which took no more than ten minutes.It was a ridiculously simple step in comparison to all the ups and downs of the saga thus far. With my visa in hand, I treated Ricard to a humble cheese burger and fries and we savored our food as if were dining on caviar and champagne at the Ritz!
It was time to cross the border back into Mexico and plan my return. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a direct flight back to Mexico City, so I had no choice but to take the bus again. Despite my reluctance to spend another night on one of those vehicles, fate had prepared a few pleasant surprises to make the expedition more enjoyable.
I was assigned a seat beside a friendly young man named Alfredo Camarena. He was a fayuquero* and made regular trips in search of trendy sneakers on “the other side.” He was traveling with two friends, and the four of us spent a great deal of the night chatting. Alfredo gallantly bought me a sandwich and soda when the driver paused the long sojourn at a rest stop. After that, I was getting sleepy. Alfredo, like a knight in shining armor, unfurled his coat and transformed it into blanket and tucked me in.
Before I dozed off completely, I thought of this whole journey. I felt like the protagonist in my very own telenovela, complete with unexpected plot twists and dramatic cliffhangers at every turn. Who needs scripted drama when you’ve got real-life adventures to keep you on your toes?
At last, we reached the northern Mexico City bus terminal very early on Saturday morning. My fiancé was already waiting and took me out for breakfast.
I could not help but marvel at the visible and invisible angels who had watched over me throughout this whirlwind quest. I have no doubt that the universe is on my side and eager to protect me: when a door closes, a window opens.
What could have been a nightmare turned into a tale of serendipity, camaraderie and unexpected kindness.
*nickname for the vendors who buy goods from the border factories and then re-sell them on the black market or by other means
The previous instalment in this tale is here:
