Falling With Grace

I rushed into the building through the women’s changing room and then locked the door behind me. A white shirt hung out of an open locker door, and I snagged it with a pair of sneakers tucked under the bench.

My heart beat like a wild orchestra in my chest, my rib flexing far too much for a break. I shoved the one-size-too-big shoes on and discarded the blue arm brace onto the floor. The shirt slid over my head with ease, but I chewed on my inner lip to keep the cries down as I raised my arm through the holes.

Fists barraged the locked door, and a woman’s voice seeped through the barrier.

Chlorine stung my nose as I made my way through the community center, avoiding the door I’d locked, and made my way through the crowd gathering at the cashier, my gaze bouncing off each individual who wasn’t clad in swimwear.

I paused by the double-wide glass doors and scanned the streets, searching for the white truck, for the man with slicked-back, brown hair as though he’d fallen out of a grade B movie.

He knows my name.

He knows who I am.

I pushed open the doors and hobbled down the sidewalk. People cast glances my way as I held my arm close to my torso, my eyes burning from the held-back tears.

My heart pounded as pressure built in my head, and a beaming smile worked its way across my lips.

The bridge, which stretched over the Rio Grande River, was packed with cars sitting bumper to bumper, waiting their turn to enter the United States.

Border Patrol Agents’ silhouettes sharpened as I drew closer, the sidewalk stretching like an endless road.

“Walk back to my truck with me without making a scene…” a man said from behind me before he sidled up at my side, throwing his arm over my shoulder like we were long-time friends. “And I will put in a good word for you.”

He turned my body back down the bridge, my spine growing rigid.

People in their cars averted their gazes as though I were one of the many vendors selling things between rows of cars.

I can’t go back.

I’d take the long, deadly plunge off the side of the bridge and into the river before I let them haul me back in front of him and serve me up for punishment.

The air in my lungs evaporated as I turned, ducking under his arm, and ran.

His hand gripped my wrist, and my shoulder popped.

I belted out an arduous scream.

The man glanced around, his bushy black eyebrows raising as he looked behind me towards the border agents.

I gripped my arm as his hand fell from my wrist.

“That was a big mistake.” He turned away, the sound of running footsteps behind me coming closer.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I turned and dropped to my scabbed and bruised knee.

My sanctuary within reach.

“Ma’am, do you need help?”

“I’m an American citizen, and I’ve been held against my will.”

6

Grace

Afemale officer sat across from me, her leg tucked over her knee, her foot bouncing as she scribbled on a notepad.

Machines beeped and whirred their mechanical noises, dripping fluids and pain relief into my veins.