I stared at the giant brown brick towers in front of me. They were ugly. There were long lines of dusty cars going in between the towers in both directions. I was suddenly very glad for Tony’s company. “Uh, which way do we go?”
“The pedestrians go over here, up this ramp. I always wanted to bring my roller blades here. I think it would be fun.”
I understood as soon as I started to climb the winding ramp. It went around and around, but was really smooth. “Are we gonna need to do anything here . . .?” I asked.
“Nah. The immigration officers don’t care who goes into Mexico—just who comes out of it. Who would want to run away from America to Mexico unless you’re a bank robber or something? Are you a bank robber?”
I laughed and gulped nervously. I walked silently beside him, lugging my bag. We were suddenly on a long walkway filled with sunlight and—children! Everywhere. Little children were calling out, “¡Chicles! ¡Chicles!”
There were crowds of people shoving through these kids, many no older than five. The kids were all wearing raggedy old clothes that I wouldn’t have thrown in the rag bag. One kid was wearing a fluorescent pink Minnie Mouse sweatshirt, which depressed me more than anything else I had seen in my life. Something about Minnie’s smiling face on the sweatshirt, which was two sizes too small for the little girl wearing it, made me remember all the times I had been to Disneyland, or wore a sweatshirt with Minnie Mouse on it. I had always thought I was so poor. My friends and I would go to the mall and walk around complaining about how poor we were. We had no idea what “poor” really meant. I understood now what Tony was talking about on the train. Chicles was gum.
“¡Chicles! ¡Chicles!” Each of these children held a worn cardboard box they had somehow fashioned into a gum-carrying case complete with cardboard handles. Most of the little cardboard boxes were patched with duct tape and were dirty at the corners. Inside the tattered boxes held by the tattered children were neat, new little packages of “Chiclet” gum. The tiny, brightly colored gum was hard, like sucking candy, when you first popped it into your mouth, and it lost its flavor in all of about thirty seconds. I must’ve bought it a million times from those coin-operated machines at the grocery store.
I looked around. Tony was nowhere to be found. I was alone. At some point while I watched those kids and thought about malls and grocery stores, I lost sight of Tony. I thought we were going to visit his aunt. He knew there was no way I could get out of this crowd without him. I couldn’t believe he could be so selfish and leave me alone like this. I was left with these children who made me want to cry. I had to think. I had to remember what I had planned to do before I met Tony. Otherwise I was going to be stranded with the children.
Then I saw him. There was a swarm of kids around him with huge smiles on their faces and their palms outstretched. Tony had one kid attached to his swinging arm. Another was struggling to stand up under the weight of Tony’s duffel bag, wearing Tony’s Angel’s cap. One was perched precariously on his shoulders, almost covering Tony’s eyes as she clutched his hair with her small hands. All of Tony’s pockets were bursting with gum. I giggled with relief and walked over to join him. He wasn’t joking when he said he didn’t need any gum.