Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

The man extended his hand, “Bonsoir.”

Mike shook his hand. “Good evening.”

“This is Julien Bergalt,” said Anne.

Julien bowed slightly as he took Marie’s hand. “Good to see you. I will help you.”

A man and woman entered Anne’s site and began looking over the clothes hanging on the lines. Anne went to them and Mike said to Julien, “So, how many people have you helped to cross over?”

Julien nodded effusively. “Beaucoup ... many.”

“Well, what’s many?”

“Eighteen, no, twenty. Twenty people.”

“What does it cost?” said Marie.

“Is it just you two?”

“No,” said Mike. “We have a daughter. Three.”

A look of concern etched into Julien’s thin face as he considered this. “Twenty five,” he said.

Mike laughed. “Well, that’s the end of this conversation. We don’t have that much money.” He looked at Marie. “We should just go.”

“Non,” said Julien. “Un moment, sil vous plait. Avez vous…”

“We don’t speak French,” said Mike.

“Uh… have you a car?”

“We have a truck-camper,” said Mike.

Julien nodded. “Bon. We could, ah, make a deal, you see?”

Mike shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. We’re going to need our truck when we cross over.”

“No, monsieur, you do not understand. We cannot take the truck over, to cross over. We must go part of the way over on… on the water.”

“But I thought it was just a walk straight north,” said Mike.

“No. No. There are many police that way. We must, you know, walk part of the way, and then get on a boat and go around. You must leave your truck on this side.”

“Well, let’s talk about it some more,” said Mike.

Marie took Mike’s arm. “Hon, I want to go and check on Elly. I’ll talk to you when you get back.”

Marie turned to Julien, “Goodbye. I must go.”

Julien looked surprised. “Oh, that is too bad.” He and Mike watched Marie walk off.

Mike turned back to Julien. “All right. Well, I guess we have to discuss how much you’ll give me for the truck and camper.”

Julien took his hand and shook it vigorously. “Yes, yes. We will talk. First, let us have some coffee, yes?”

When Mike got back to the camper he found Marie standing outside crying.

“Where’s Elly?” he said in alarm.

“She’s all right. She’s napping again.”

“What’s the matter? What happened?”

“It’s Carlene and Jake. They’re leaving in two days.”

“Jees! I’m sorry to see them go.”

Marie sniffled. “Yeah. Elly’s really taken with Carlene. Especially her baking.”

They laughed, sweetly sad.

“On the positive side,” said Marie, “They gave me all their contact information. They said we could work for them and stay in a little house until we get on our feet.”

Mike said nothing. Marie’s enthusiasm was premature. They didn’t know what would happen until they actually crossed over.

“So,” said Marie, “what did the Frenchman say after I left.”

“Why don’t we go in? I’ll give you all the details.”

They sat on their bed, taking care not to make much noise. Marie looked over at Elly, then said softly, “what happened?”

“He wants twenty-five hundred dollars… and the camper.”

Marie frowned. “Well, we won’t need the camper when we cross over. I told you Jake and Carlene said they have a house we could stay in.”

“Damn it, Marie, that’s not exactly etched in stone, you know? Without the camper, we’ll be on the other side, destitute and without a place to sleep!”

“Oh, so you know that for a fact?”

“I’d bet on it. Why can’t you just wait a while? Let’s see what develops here.”

Marie was red-faced. She glanced over at Elly. “Wait? That’s all we do. I’m done waiting. You can stay and wait. I’ll take Elly and we’ll go.”

Mike glared at her red-faced. He shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he hissed. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mike left the camper and walked off into the woods to try and cool off. He lamented the fact that their earlier moment of peace and laughter had derailed so quickly into angry argument. But he had to try and dissuade her from this scheme. It was just too damn risky.

Mike started the camper and gripped the wheel. He looked over at Marie and Elly. Today they were crossing over. Elly wore her pink ski coat with white fur collar and a pair of knee-length maroon leather boots. Marie wore a bright blue, puffy down jacket. Mike knew the bright colors were a liability, considering what they were about to embark on, but they had no other options. “So,” he said to Marie, “the money is in your bag, right?”

“Yeah. In the envelope.”

Mike nodded and pulled slowly out of their spot. He turned to Marie. “I’ll bet it won’t be five minutes before someone takes our spot.”

“Who cares? We don’t need it anymore.”

“I’m scared, Mommy,” said Elly.

“Oh Honey,” said Marie. “Don’t worry. We’re finally on our way.”

“I hope so,” said Elly.

It was late afternoon. They were to meet Julien and another man who worked for him. Mike drove slowly down the road past the other rigs and cars jammed together close to the trees. “Well,” he said, “take a last look. We should be in Canada by tomorrow.”

“That’s okay,” said Marie, “I’ve seen more than enough of this place.”

Mike looked at the encampment in the rearview. Elly said nothing, snuggling close to her mother for warmth and security. They were anxious, Mike knew, and so was he. This deal was a wild, last throw of the dice, and he didn’t like doing things that way. But Marie hadn’t let it go and had brought it up constantly. Some nights he’d used the excuse of having to charge the truck battery to sit down in the cab by himself and listen to the radio. The news was all bad. The fighting had spread across the country. Riots had broken out in California. The last report had Mexican general Cesar Robles crossing over at San Ysidro with his forces to, as he put it, protect vulnerable Mexican Nationals in LA. Other reports indicated that it was they who had been responsible for much of the violence.

Meanwhile, Mike and Marie had continued to argue and finally he had agreed to take up the Frenchman’s offer. He’d wanted more assurances about him, but what the hell could he do, call the Better Business Bureau?

They drove without talking for about thirty minutes. Mike watched the mile markers. Spotting no. 113, he pulled over and stepped down on the parking brake. He left the key in the ignition as agreed, and they got out. A fire access road cut away to the right just a little ahead. Julien had said that he and his helper would be about an eighth of a mile down the road waiting for them. As they started walking down the snow-packed road, Mike reflexively put his hand in his pocket to feel the reassuring hard surfaces of the .38. He carried a backpack stuffed with everything they could jam into it, and a small suitcase. He thought of what they’d had—a house, food and comforts, security, friends—and what they were down to now—a couple of suitcases, a backpack, a .38, and prayers and wishes. Period. But, he still had the most important thing, his family. He looked up at the sky. They had a little over an hour before the sun would set.

Marie walked with her bag slung over her left shoulder. Elly clutched her other arm tightly. With Marie’s bright blue jacket and hiking boots, and Elly’s pink coat with white fur collar and her high maroon boots, they looked like they were going downtown for a night out rather than preparing to sneak across the border into Canada.