I’m nervously rocking back and forth in my seat and praying I’ll make it through the border. All morning and into the afternoon, I tried to convince myself everything will be okay, but as time wore on and I didn’t hear from Royce, the more convinced I became my life was falling apart right in front of me.
The more public this situation became, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to disappear. There’s no way Royce can convince a network to pull the footage. Certainly, John will come forth with the news of my pregnancy. I should have had the blood test at the clinic, but I didn’t know employees at the hospital would release personal information.
I struggled all afternoon, but no matter how hard I tried, the only solution I could come up with was to escape. I’m not far from Mexico. I know it will take a while by bus, but it’s doable. I gathered the bit of money I had left and hit the road.
Halfway there, I realized I didn’t have my passport. I left it sitting on the dresser of my little apartment. I wish I’d slipped it into my purse on my way out the door! It would solve so many problems.
On the bus, I avoid eye contact with other people. I imagine they wonder who I am and where I’m going. I know I look tired. I avoid looking at myself in a reflection. I’m such a mess! Paranoia is hinting that they must know who I am after watching the series, and I further assume all of them are judging me.
A part of me wishes I had the guts to stay in LA and wait for Royce to return, but I don’t know how to face him if he wasn’t able to change a thing. I’m persistently sick to my stomach and recognize my best chance of starting over is where no one knows me—across the border.
Although Royce gave me his phone number, I never gave him mine, so I don’t check my phone. I have no family to speak of, and few friends. The only person I had to depend on was Monique. I feel lost in the world and not sure how I’ll make it.
The hours tick by and I make the necessary bus connections. I avoid all cameras, so no one can put it on the internet where I’ll be discovered. Everything will be all right at the border. I only have to make it that far.
At long last, the final bus of the journey pulls to a stop. My heart races as I step out, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The bus does not cross. I’m traveling like a nomad and determined to keep going.
I get in line with the other people who are crossing and still avoid eye contact. I’m sure no one recognizes me but I’m not taking any chances. It’s possible no one is looking for me, but I presume they are, so I avoid being recognized by anyone.
The man in front of me is permitted to pass and, with a newfound hope, I stride over to the officer. “Buenos dias. Your name and reason for entering Mexico?”
I hand him my ID with a smile. “Hi, my name is Kayla Grid and I’m thinking about moving here.”
“Passport?” He holds out his hand, and I smile once more.
“I’m sorry, but it seems that I’ve forgotten my passport. But here’s my identification. Can I please go through? It’s really important,” I plead.
“No, if you don’t have a passport you aren’t getting in. Please go back.” He points in the direction I came from, and my heart races.
“You don’t understand, it is very important I get through. I have a passport; it’s just not with me,” I explain.
“I don’t care if you have ten passports. If you don’t have them on you, you aren’t coming through. Please go back,” he points again. I try one more time.
“This is a bit of an emergency. I really hate to bother you but if you could just make the exception for me, I really have to get through,” I say.
Another agent walks over. I hope he has more compassion. “What’s going on?”
“This young woman doesn’t have a passport. She needs to be sent back,” the officer explains.
“ID?” the other officer inquires. The man hands him my ID and he reviews it. “You’re Kayla Grid, twenty-four years old, from Chicago, Illinois?”
My heart leaps to my throat. Is he getting that information from the ID, or is there another way he knows my name? If this is the way to get into Mexico, I’ll take the risk. I take a deep breath and nod with a smile. “Yes, that’s me.”
“You need to follow me,” he says. I’m confused.
“But I’m going south,” I clarify.
“No, miss, you are coming with me for a few questions,” he replies before he turns back to the first officer. “Carry on.”
“I’m not going with you! I’ve done nothing wrong, and you can’t make me!”
I turn to go, but he grabs my arm and holds me. “Miss, I need you to cooperate. It’ll be a lot easier if you do.”
“Let go of me! I’ve done nothing wrong!” I cry. But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he puts me in handcuffs and leads me toward the station. My heart races. I have done nothing wrong, yet I’ve been placed under arrest. I want to scream but with the people already staring, it’ll curtail the situation if I keep my mouth shut.
“How dare you take me like this?” I hiss.
“You’ve been reported missing and we need to straighten it out before you can leave,” he retorts. My heart continues to pound in my chest. The only person I can envision looking for me is Royce. Considering I was on the show, I suspect this will make national news.
I can’t believe how everything has fallen apart. I’ve ruined my life, and it’s only getting worse.
I will not talk to him and give him more information. I should figure out how to get out of here.