Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(120)

“They don’t know.”

“Good. Don’t tell them. Today is his bond hearing, he may still be released until the removal trial.”

It’s highly unlikely. For Javier to be released on bond, the judge needs to decide he’s not a flight risk. With a paralyzed father and four sisters, Javier looks exactly like someone who would leave and not return for his trial. But Maria doesn’t need that reminder.

When she hangs up, I turn to Reagan. “Let’s go.”

“What about your signing?”

“I have until four. Tacoma is an hour away. Drive like hell, Reagan.”

“Maybe we should call Aiden? Maybe he can get him a lawyer or be a witness or something? I still don’t understand why you didn’t know.”

I do. Aiden got the call Friday morning and didn’t tell me. I’m sickened to think of the reasons. To protect me? Or to make me hate him and leave him? You’ll get over it in a couple of hours, he said.

We sprint out of the apartment, the door slamming behind us. Benson is leaning against the Rover. When he sees me, he straightens in a rigid way. Is this why Aiden gave him a stern look earlier?

“Did he know?” I ask, hoping I’m missing something. I cannot hear my voice but Benson must because he hesitates and purses his lips. Reluctantly, he nods.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” I know this question is not for Benson but I can’t stop it. He presses his lips tightly like he cannot speak.

I have been violent once. Four years ago as they strapped me to a gurney. Whatever triggers the savage fires now. Anger strikes inexorably across miles, and finds him in his log cabin. The entire U.S. Marine Corps won’t be enough to save him when I see him. Impotent for release, anger expands. The epicenter envelops his cabin. The shock waves unleash me on his Rover. I start kicking it but Reagan yanks me back from my waist.

No…let me see them…one last time…maybe they’re still warm… Please…let me say goodbye.

*

We get in Reagan’s MINI. I expect Benson to stop me but he doesn’t. He simply steps back, his face blank, as the tires screech on the pavement.

“Isa, can you explain the process? How the hell does it work?”

“Well, he could depart voluntarily but Javier will never do that with the women and Antonio behind. He’ll fight if he can because he’s their main support. So today the judge decides if he should be released on bond. Then, they set a removal hearing in a few weeks where they decide if he has any legal basis to stay. Chances that he wins are very low. Then, they ship him off and he cannot return for ten years.”

Reagan’s profanities fill the car as it speeds over the black asphalt. At the immigration courthouse, we file through the security guards. Weapons? No. Illegal substances? My family. Intent to harm the U.S.? No. Passport? Not American? No. Why are you here? To live.

The guard hands me to another, who pats me down. Numb as I am, I feel the hands more, not less. Reagan does not get patted down. They smile at her differently. You’re one of us. She doesn’t smile back.

The courtroom for Javier’s hearing is sterile. American flags. Wooden chairs. The judge’s bench. One table for ICE, one for Javier. Twenty-nine days ago, a similar room crushed me. Today, I could demolish it with my heart alone. I fix my eyes on the clock on the wall, waiting. 1:16, 1:20, 1:21.

The double doors in the back of the courtroom open. My knees give out.

Javier wears an orange jumpsuit. An armed officer follows him inches behind. Javier’s head is down and he takes small steps. His skin is pallid despite its sienna beauty. For the first time in my life, I see him with a thick, dark stubble.

I stand as he comes closer. He looks up at me with hollowed eyes. His face is haggard; his lips chapped. I stumble forward to hold him but the officer —Bailey, his tag says—slips between us.

“No contact with detainees, ma’am.” Bailey holds out his hand. “Please step away.”

I ignore Bailey and keep my eyes on Javier’s. “I’m here. Corazón y alma.”

He’ll know it’s from Maria. And from me. Bailey drags him to the table. In minutes, a sharply dressed man strides in with a leather briefcase. Lawyer. I expect him to take ICE’s table but he sits by Javier. How did Javier get a sharply dressed lawyer? Maybe Aiden? The emptiness inside vibrates with something like life.

“Mr. Solis, Christopher Benetto with the law firm Benetto and Briggs. I apologize I couldn’t meet you at the detention center. I was getting the details on your case.”

Benetto scans the courtroom. His eyes rest briefly on Reagan and me. He and Javier whisper ear to ear away from Bailey. After some hushed conversation, Benetto strides toward us.

“Miss Snow, Miss Starr, are you both documented?”

“Yes, sir. I’m on my grace period, Reagan is a citizen.”

“Good. Listen. It’s imperative that you don’t say anything during the hearing. Sometimes families and friends speak up but that does more harm than good. Particularly if you know something that could hurt him.” As he says the last words, Benetto looks straight at me. I know what he is not saying. Javier has worked illegally and I am a witness. If I speak up and ICE questions me under oath, I could harm Javier.

“Did someone turn him in?” I try to speak normally but my voice comes out in whooshy wisps of air.