“Come on back,” Emily said, giving her a welcoming smile. OK, so the smile didn’t really show through the COVID mask she wore, but she had faith that smiles still showed around the eyes. She’d have liked to have hugged her. COVID had changed that. She glanced at Teresa to make sure she had a mask on, and then she escorted her back to the seating area.
“Ryan,” she called out. “Look who’s here!”
Ryan looked up and saw Teresa. Emily couldn’t put names to the emotions that crossed his face, but they were strong ones. She narrowed her eyes and looked again at the boy Teresa held. Those eyes, she thought.
Ryan swallowed hard. He tugged his mask into place, got up from his desk and walked out to them.
“Hello, Teresa,” he said.
There was a moment of silence.
“I’ve missed you,” Ryan said.
Teresa struggled with tears. “Yo también, mi amor. Me, too,” she whispered. She handed Emily the large bag she had slung over her shoulder, and then held out the boy to Ryan. Startled, Ryan took him.
“Ryan, this is your son,” she said firmly. It sounded as if she had a prepared speech to deliver. “This is Rafael Matthews Valdez.” She took a deep breath and held up her hand when Ryan started to speak.
“Three years ago, I left, not as you probably thought, because I didn’t want to be with you, or because I didn’t want to raise our son with you. I left because not all of my family is legally in this country, and I was needed at home.” Teresa choked back a sob. “ICE came for my family. For mi papá, mi abuelo. And now finally they have come for me.
“Even though we have been here for decades. Even though my abuelo married my abuela here. My papá came here to be with my abuelo when he was 16. They caught him and sent him back to be with his mother in Mexico. But when I was small, he made another attempt to move north. He brought me with him to meet his parents. This time, he was able to find work. To marry, to have more children.”
The newsroom was silent. Sarah wheeled her chair closer to Emily who reached down and clasped her shoulder tightly.
Teresa continued, “Then this new administration comes in. Pendejos. Suddenly everyone hates us, hates immigrants. I do not know how they found my grandfather or my father. But they did. They locked them up. My grandfather was released, pending a review of his case, but my father? Because he’d been sent back before, they put him in a camp.
“So, I go home. Mi madre needs me. I am pregnant, and things are not so good with you,” Teresa continued. Ryan winced. He started to say something, but Teresa wasn’t done.
“And they, ICE, they came for me. I don’t know why. My attorney, he thinks I can get DACA, but no new applications are being taken. He has tried everything, but nada. This country is no longer the country I grew up in, it no longer welcomes us. The court ordered yesterday that I must return to Mexico, and that I should be locked up until I can be sent away.”
“That’s insane!” Emily interrupted. “How old were you when you came here?”
“I was not quite two,” Teresa replied. “I know no one in Mexico. I have a mother and siblings there, but I have never met them. My grandfather is deeply concerned. Mi familia. It is risky for me to return. I am the third generation of a family that got crosswise with a cartel. That is why my grandfather came here. Why my father came here. They fear for their lives if they go back. No one knows what will happen to me.
“But Rafael is a U.S. born citizen. His papeles are in the bag. Your name is on his birth certificate. With you he will be safe. And I will run. There is a network...,” she trailed off. “If you ever loved me, don’t come for me, don’t look for me. Raise our son. Love him.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She came up to Ryan, to her son, and hugged them both tightly.
“Mamá?” Rafael said. “No llores, mamá.”
Don’t cry, Ryan translated in his head. He started to speak, but Teresa just shook her head.
“This is your father, Rafael,” she whispered. “He will love you, and you will love him. You be a good boy, you hear?”
She turned, and without meeting anyone’s eyes, her head down, she walked swiftly out the door.
Ryan stood, stunned. The boy in his arms squirmed. “Mamá!” he cried.
“Go after her,” Emily ordered. She dropped the bag and took the little boy. “Go!”
Ryan looked at her wild-eyed and ran.
Rafael was crying openly. Emily bounced him on one hip, and looked at Sarah who shrugged, and shook her head.
“I gather you know her,” Sarah said.
“She was a writer here, my first year,” Emily said absently, her focus on the entryway, watching for Ryan. “She and Ryan were tight. But...,” she hesitated. “Well, you’ve seen Ryan. He was worse then. A complete man-ho. Drugs and alcohol. He’s been clean for...,” she hesitated while trying to do the math.
“For nearly 1,000 days,” Sarah said, thinking of a conversation she’d overheard that now made more sense. “But last Saturday’s party?”
Emily shrugged. “He was probably drinking O’Doul’s or something. But not alcohol. And not drugs. Thank God. He was a mess back then.”
“So, Trump gets elected, DHS targets every undocumented immigrant they can find, and Teresa and her family get caught up in the net,” Sarah summarized.
“Sounds like it,” Emily said.
Ryan came back into the newsroom. “I didn’t catch her,” he said, defeated. “I couldn’t find her.”
The newsroom was silent, except for the sobs of the little boy.
“Now what do I do?” he asked helplessly.
Emily handed him his. “You do what she asked of you,” she said firmly. “Take
