Crossing Over

by Paul Clayton

  They were up at seven. Marie made some hot wheat porridge. They had a little pancake syrup to put on it. There was no more saccharin for their coffee.

  “We’re getting low on pintos, rice, and other things,” said Marie. “We’ll have to see if we can find some somewhere.”

  Mike nodded. “We can go after we talk to the people in the station.”

  “Okay. Hope it goes quick.”

  Elly’s face was hopeful. “Do you think we’ll run into Gabe?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” said Mike. “After we talk to the immigration people we can see if there’s a local market. If you’re out and walking around, you’ll see lots of people and it will help you relax.”

  “Okay,” said Elly.

  They cleaned up the camper and at 8:00: started up to the border crossing office. The line started in the parking lot on the American side. They took their place, hands in pockets, as the damp cold air clung to them. Mike asked the man in front of them how long he thought it would be before they got in.

  The man was in his thirties, with a full frizzy brownish beard. Like most of the people standing about, his face was reddened, his nose running. The man shook his head and smiled stoically. “Yesterday we waited for five hours. Then, when we were almost to the front desk, they closed the place down and made us leave.”

  “Wow,” said Mike.

  The man turned away. They waited for two hours, shifting their feet against the persistent cold, staring dull-eyed at the trees all around.

  “I’ve had enough,” said Marie finally. “I can’t stand out here anymore. Let me take Elly and we’ll go see if we can find some of the things we need.”

  Mike looked briefly at the people behind them waiting with bored, resigned faces. “All right.” In the other direction, the broad, curved roof of the immigration building was visible, but they were still about a city block away. “They’re probably gonna want all of us to be there for the interview. Hopefully today I can at least get us an appointment.”

  “Okay.” Marie turned to Elly. “Come with me. We’ll see if we can do a little shopping.”

  Elly turned to Mike. “Bye Daddy.”

  “Bye, Elly.” Mike felt a familiar pang of sadness as he watched them walk away. He turned around and pulled his collar up. The line shuffled forward about ten feet and stopped.

  Mike finally got into the building and to the reception desk an hour before they were scheduled to close. The woman who spoke to him was tired-looking and officious. He began to explain his situation to her and she cut him off. “Sir, the whole family has to be here for the interview.”

  “I understand. I was hoping I could make an appointment for us.”

  She looked down at her monitor, hit a few keys, and pulled a note pad toward her. “Next Tuesday, the 13th at nine.” She swiveled around in her chair and pointed to the rear of the building. “There’s a door back there for people with appointments. There’s no sign, but you’ll see one or two security guards there. Bring all your identification and don’t miss this appointment or you’ll go to the very bottom of the list.”

  Mike took his time walking back to the camper. The cold hadn’t abated and there were not many people outdoors. He passed a camper with a small motorbike tied to the rear rack. He thought back to the twisted two-wheeled motorbike wreck at the militia camp. Hopefully that had been theirs. He passed two men standing between two camping rigs, warming themselves before a fire in a large metal trash can. Heaped on the ground around them were string-tied bundles of firewood selling for five dollars apiece. Mike nodded to one of the men.

  “How many?” the man said.

  “Just one.” Mike didn’t want to kill himself carrying two of them the half-mile or so back to the camper, and there was always the possibility of finding cheaper wood for sale along the way. He looped the cord over his shoulder and started toward what would be their home for, hopefully, no more than a couple of weeks.

  On the day of their appointment, they walked up the road. Mike realized they hadn’t been this dressed-up since the last time they’d gone to church together a couple years back. Marie and Elly wore their overcoats and high leather boots as they walked past the people lined up to get into the building. Passing the point where the line turned into the entrance, a few of the people looked at them suspiciously. They went around to the back. A security guard stood by the door, a bored look on his thirty-something face, “When’s your appointment?” he said to Mike.

  “Nine.”

  The man nodded. He cast a quick appraising look at Elly before turning back to look in the window of the door. A few moments later he pulled the door open. “You can go in now.”

  The same woman was at the counter and waved them over. As they approached, Mike looked around at the lines of people, the workers sitting behind the counters, the two security guards keeping a wary-eyed watch.

  The woman gave them a packet. “You’ll have to fill all of this out first,” she said. “Then come back to me and I’ll assign you an interviewer. Do you have all your identifying paperwork with you?”

  “Yes,” said Mike.

  “Okay.” The woman pointed to a row of five high tables against the nearest wall. One of them was empty. “You can use that table over there.”

  A half-hour later Mike, Marie and Elly again stood before the woman. She took their completed forms, looked them over briefly and picked up her phone. “Raza. They’re ready.” She looked at Mike and Marie. “Just a few minutes.”

  A tall, handsome, olive-skinned man in a grey suit came up to them. “I’m Raza Shinde,” he said with a smile. “Please come with me.”

  They followed him to a cubicle in the back of the building. Raza sat behind his desk. Mike, Marie and Elly took the three chairs facing the desk.

  Raza’s face was handsome, with just a touch of excess fat. He opened the folder with their applications, paged quickly through them, then looked up, “I’ll go over this at length later. For now I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Sure,” said Mike.

  Raza took another quick look at one of the forms in the folder and said, “How was your trek up here? We’ve been getting reports of fighting not far south.”

  “Well,” said Mike, “fortunately we missed most of it, I guess.”

  “We stayed one night in a militia camp,” said Marie. “They seemed nice.” She looked at Mike. “But other than that …”

  “And what about you, young lady?” said Raza, leaning slightly toward Elly.

  “What?” said Elly in her shy voice. She glanced at her mother for help.

  “How was your trip up here?” said Raza.

  “Hmm,” said Elly in a playful tone. “Okay, I guess.”

  Raza laughed. “Just okay, huh? What do think about all this fighting, this civil war?”

  Elly again looked to her mother for help. “What?” She looked back at Raza. “I don’t know.”

  Mike said quickly, “We don’t talk much about it as a family. It’s just something that’s going on out there, like bad weather, something we can’t do anything about.”

  Marie nodded in agreement.

  “I see,” said Raza. He continued to look at Elly. “What do you think about moving to Canada?”

  Mike became uncomfortable. Raza’s brown eyes were large and his smile hid something besides bureaucratic interest.

  “It’s okay,” said Elly slowly, looking down at the desk. “I guess.”

  Raza nodded slowly and thoughtfully like a school teacher assessing a student. “Yes,” he said.

  He turned his attention to Mike and Marie.

  “Well,” he said with a big smile. “Who could ever have imagined we’d see the great United States of America brought so low? And its people lining up to get across the border, like the poor Mexicans used to do?”

  Mike s
eethed inside at the dig, but said nothing. Neither did Marie.

  “Okay,” said Raza, “I think everything is in order. You’re obviously not drug runners or gang members.”

  Mike kept his face a blank. Marie smiled politely and Elly made a face.

  Raza appeared to have satisfied himself about something or other. He looked at Mike. “I’m going to give you some more documentation that you all will have to fill out.” He pushed back slightly from his desk. “We’re through for now. I won’t need all of you at the follow-up interview, just Mister McNerney.”

  Mike nodded as they got to their feet.

  Raza handed Mike an envelope full of papers. “See the woman you spoke to before,” he said. “She’ll schedule your follow up interview.”

  Marie and Elly said goodbye and left the cubicle first. “Thank you,” said Mike, reaching out to shake Raza’s hand. After getting his appointment slip, he met Marie and Elly outside the back door.

  “When is the appointment?” said Marie.

  “Two weeks from today, Tuesday at nine.”

  “Good. He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. But we have to deal with him.”

  “What do you mean, Mommy?” said Elly.

  “Oh, only that … well, there’s something odd about him, that’s all.”

  “Yeah,” said Elly with a frown.

  They started walking and Elly let go of her interest in the subject. “I’m hungry,” she said.

  Mike and Marie laughed with relief.

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “Me too.” He turned to Marie. “Do we have enough in the larder for a nice big lunch?”

  “Yeah, I think we can put something nice together.”

  They walked slowly down the side of the road toward their camper. Newly-arrived refugees drove cars and campers slowly past, turning their heads in search of friends or parking spaces. Mike, Marie and Elly looked here and there at the vehicles and people on both sides of the road. The temperature had warmed slightly and there was more activity than when they’d left for their appointment. People congregated in small groups, turning their heads to look at them as they passed. Some people worked on their camper rigs or puttered about in their little campsites, breaking up firewood, or cooking. Hammering rattled in the afternoon air and they passed a family building a 2x4 and tarpaper lean-to between their smallish car and some pine trees. Mike was struck with the realization that a community of sorts was growing up here before their eyes. He didn’t like the idea that a lot of these people seemed to expect a long stay. He meant to be across in a couple weeks to a month.

  In the morning, Elly announced the snow falling outside with a cry of delight. After they’d had breakfast, she went out to play in the snow in their little camp site. All day long it came down. Mike cleared brush away from around the camper and heaped up the bigger limbs for fuel. Inside, Marie washed some of their things in a plastic tub and catalogued what was in their larder, making a list of what they needed. By twilight the snow was a couple feet deep and still coming down. They ran the heater at fifty degrees most of the night and Mike began to be concerned about the propane. He still didn’t know where to fill their two tanks.

  The next day they made a tour of the campsites on both sides of the road. The snow was wet and clung to their shoes and pant legs as they walked through the confusion of campers and cars and shacks. Mike saw a lanky, young man from behind. He slowed, keeping his eyes on him, until the man sensed his scrutiny and turned. He wasn’t the thug. They continued walking. Half of the people seemed sullen or frightened and deliberately ignored them as they passed. Some nodded in greeting or said hello, and these they stopped to speak with. Elly stood close to her mother as Marie asked a woman a few questions about where to buy food. They walked on, coming to a crew of men digging a trench. Mike looked over at one of them leaning on his shovel as he took a break.

  “What’s happening?” said Mike.

  “Septic trench. We’re putting in a dozen two-holers. This place is filling up fast.”

  “You know anywhere I could buy propane?”

  The man’s face was serious, even grim, as he shook his head. “Nope. Propane is getting as precious as potable water now. Nobody knows where to get any.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  They walked on and Mike spotted a familiar old, stake-body truck piled high with used wooden furniture. A brown army tent with a raised, wooden floor was on the other side of the truck. Mike had seen it and the truck when they had arrived, and had been meaning to speak to these people. A blue-eyed, craggy-faced old man, his long white hair combed over to cover a bald, pink crown, was attempting to pull a chest of drawers down off the truck. Mike went over, Marie and Elly following him. He helped the man lower the piece to the ground.

  “Thank you,” the man said with a smile.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “My name’s, Jake,” the man said. “Carlene?” he called into the tent. An older woman, small and thin, but sprightly, with thick glasses and permed brown hair came out. She looked at him expectantly.

  “These are our neighbors from the camper on the shoulder.”

  Carlene nodded to Marie and Elly. “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello,” said Marie, Elly softly echoing her greeting.

  Jake turned to Mike. “I meant to walk on down and introduce myself to you, but I got so busy I didn’t get around to it yet.”

  “Don’t apologize. I saw your rig up here and I was gonna do the same.”

  “Would you like to have some coffee and cake?” said Carlene. “I just made some walnut cake this morning.”

  “We shouldn’t impose,” Marie protested. “It looks like you’re both busy.”

  “It’s okay,” said Carlene, “We were about ready to take a break anyway.”

  Jake gestured to a wooden plank table with two stools under it. “Let me get a few more stools.”

  “And what is your name?” Carlene said to Elly as Marie and Elly sat.

  “Elly.”

  “Oh. Excuse me one minute.” Carlene went into the tent.

  Marie called after her, “Carlene, I should have offered to help. Anything I can do?”

  “No, dear, just relax. I’ll be right there.”

  Mike indicated the chest of drawers to Jake as Carlene brought out the cake and some cups. “You want help putting that in the tent?”

  “No. I got it down to work on it. I restore furniture.”

  Mike nodded. “That sounds like something that’s probably in demand nowadays.”

  “Oh yeah. Hardly anybody buying new. Hardly anything new to be bought. What business are you in?”

  Mike frowned. “Well, I’m retired. I worked as an accountant. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when we cross over. Probably any kind of work I can get.”

  Jake indicated the table. “Sit down and have some coffee and cake.”

  “This is delicious,” Marie said to Mike, pointing with her fork. She turned to Carlene. “Where in Heaven’s name did you get walnuts? And sugar?”

  Carlene smiled proudly. “Well, I’ve had the walnuts for over a year. And that’s not sugar in the cake, but honey. Jake and I found a farm on the way up here where we bought some.”

  “Ooh,” said Elly as she pushed her empty plate away, “that was so good!”

  Marie and Carlene laughed.

  “Would you like some more?” Carlene said.

  “Sure.”

  “So,” said Mike to Jake, “how long have you been waiting for your papers to cross?”

  Jake frowned. “Four, five months now. Feels like time is standing still.”

  Carlene came out of the tent and set a piece of cake before Elly. Jake turned to her. “How long we been here?”

  “About a hundred days.” Carlene looked around to see if anyone want
ed any more cake. She sat. “We’re supposed to be getting our papers soon.”

  Mike nodded as he sipped his coffee.

  “We got one little advantage,” Jake added, almost apologetically.

  Mike and Marie looked at him.

  “Carlene is Canadian.”

  “Oh,” Mike and Marie said together, smiling.

  Carlene smiled shyly. “I came down to the States when I was in my twenties. Never thought I’d be going back home to live.” She started collecting plates. Marie stood to help.

  Mike looked at Carlene questioningly. “Are you happy to be going back?”

  “Oh no. I loved it in the States. I came down for a job and got married. I never thought of going back home.”

  “Was that when you two met?” said Marie.

  “No,” said Carlene. “That was my first marriage.”

  “And I was married once before as well,” added Jake. “We’ve been married twenty years now. Right Carlene?”

  Carlene smiled and nodded. Elly picked up a couple plates. Carlene said to her, “That’s okay, sweetheart. Your mother and I got it.”

  Ten minutes later Marie and Carlene finished washing the cups and plates in a plastic tub and put the things away.

  “Would you two like to see my beading?” Carlene asked Marie and Elly.

  When the women went into the tent, Mike and Jake wandered back over to the chest of drawers, Mike running his hand over it.

  “Well,” Jake said, “I guess I’ll get busy sanding it down.”

  “You want some help?”

  “Sure. Let’s see. I got some wire brushes and sandpaper over there. Pull the drawers and you can work on the fronts.”

  Mike pulled the drawers out and lined them up. He grabbed a wire brush and began vigorously cleaning off a whitish patina that clung to the front of one of them. It felt good to be doing something.

  V

  Mike checked in at the reception counter and waited for Raza to appear. Not a minute later he showed up in the same suit, his face shining with bureaucratic can-do. They shook hands.