Page 112 of Something in Between

“Mr. Alvarado is Latino,” I say. “Why are you expecting Filipinos all over his walls?”

“He could hang a few more,” he says. “At least for while we’re here. I wouldn’t feel so small then.” As Mr. Alvarado enters the room, Dad grumbles audibly. Mom shushes him.

“So good to see you,” the lawyer says, greeting each of us. I wouldn’t blame him for not being nice to Dad. “How are you getting along?”

“We’re making plans to leave,” Dad says. “It’s not very exciting.”

“Terrible news about that private bill,” Mr. Alvarado says. “I heard about that recently. I’m very sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“Actually,” I say, surprised that I’ve spoken up, “there’s been a development.”

“Oh?” he says. “Are you the spokesperson today?”

“Apparently so,” Dad says.

I know Dad doesn’t want to be here. That’s why he and Mom are happy to relinquish this role to me. “Well...” I take a breath, building up my courage. “While we were negotiating with Congressman Blakely about the private bill, he said he’d already gotten the judge in our case to grant us an extension, a visa or something, so that we could stay longer. Only thing is, once he pulled back on the bill, we have no idea what happened with the visa.”

Mr. Alvarado takes a moment. “Have you tried contacting Congressman Blakely, then?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “But his office says it’s in our hands. They advised us to wait and not press the matter, actually.” I don’t mention that the congressman is my boyfriend’s dad. Mr. Blakely was sincerely apologetic but it was clear he was also rattled by the leak and there was nothing more he could or would do for my family.

“They said that? Politicians,” Mr. Alvarado says, shaking his head. “They duck and hide.”

“But the judge already agreed to the visa extension. We’re not supposed to be deported, at least, not yet.”

“Tell me what you know,” he says.

I tell him everything I remember about the judge supposedly being pressured by Congressman Blakely to grant the stay of deportation.

Mr. Alvarado sits back, takes it all in. He coughs, clearing his throat. “I don’t know if I can touch this,” he says, to our disappointment. “The judge may have already put a stop to this once Blakely backed out and denied the existence of the private bill. I don’t see how you would still be entitled to that. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do anything for you.”

“Not even to call the judge to see if the visas were granted to us?” I ask, irritated.

“You chicken! You’re a little hen!” Dad suddenly says.

Mr. Alvarado is shocked at Dad’s words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m no chicken!”

“Liar! I see your feathers!” Dad points. “Right there! Under your collar!”

Mr. Alvarado, still shocked, straightens his shirt.

“Dad!” I say, turning to Mr. Alvarado. “Sir, you can see the stress this has caused. You’ve seen our family in the news. In fact, don’t you think the media would be interested in our side of the story, especially when we tell them how our lawyer promised us a victory and encouraged us to ask for a deportation hearing? I think the exploitation of helpless immigrants for profit is a story that some news outlets would be glad to pursue.”

Mr. Alvarado’s eyes seem to prickle. “Are you forcing my hand, little girl?” he says.

“Call it what you want,” I say. “You need to keep your reputation as a pro-immigrant crusader, and we need you to contact the judge and remind him to make good on his promise. You need to tell him you know all about the favors he owes Congressman Blakely, and that he better get us our visa or we’ll go to the media and tell our side of the story, about how everyone has been in cahoots. They’ve been dying for us to talk to them. We’ve been quiet so far.”

“You would do that?” he says.

“We would,” I say. “It all depends though.”

“On what?” he says.

“On whether you do what’s right. We’re tired of being pawns.”

“And you would make me one?”

I smile sweetly.

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