José careful arranged his shirt so the bulges wouldn’t show and handed Roberto his I.D. papers. “Listen, Roberto.” He said seriously, “if anything bad happens, don’t say you’re with me. Here, take the money. Be careful with it. If anything happens to me, just go on. I’ll meet you in – in La Mesa, a small town north of here. Go there and wait until I make it, ok?”
Roberto stared at him in shock. “But, José you said we were going together.”
“We are. Come on. The border is right over here.” José pointed up the street.
The line was long and they had to stand and wait and wait to show their papers and cross. The tape was tight and cutting into José and he wished he could get this all over. He looked up and saw an American border guard watching him closely. José looked away quickly, “In all these hundreds of people, don’t call me to the side.”
They stepped a little closer to the desk as the line moved. The border guard watched them move, and then motioned to José. “Hey, would you come over here, please? Is this boy with you?” He pointed to Roberto.
José shook his head. “No. He isn’t.”
Roberto’s eyes went wide and he started to say something, but José kicked him as a warning. He followed the American guard to a side room. The guard tapped José on the back where the package was, lifted his shirt enough to see it, and handcuffed his hands behind his back. “You’re under arrest for smuggling. Sit here until the officer gets here.”
José’s mouth trembled as he sat down. He could see the line through the door and Roberto watching him. “Go.” He mouthed, “Keep going.”
Roberto started to cry and shook his head. José glared at him angrily, “I tell you to go.”
Roberto shivered nervously, showed his papers at the desk and entered America. He looked back one more time at José, but José was sitting with his head sadly leaned on the door, his hands held awkwardly behind his back. He was not looking at Roberto.
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