Dial Tone Dirges

[Tijuana, Mexico - Pay Phone outside Mercado El Popo, 1999]

[Sound of coins clinking, dialing tones]

"¿Aló? ¿Quién habla?"

"Meire? Es Leah..."

"¡Leah! ¡Dios mío! I can't believe it's you! We've been going crazy here! Your mother comes to my house every day asking if I've heard from you. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I... I made it to Tijuana. I'm at a pay phone near the market. The phone keeps eating my coins, so I don't have much time—"

"You sound different. Your voice... you sound sick. Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick, Meire. Just... tired. So tired. Remember how we used to stay up all night studying for Señora Martinez's chemistry exams? This is different. I haven't really slept in days."

"Days? Leah, you're scaring me."

"Everything is scary here. Remember how we used to talk about leaving Venezuela? Making plans in your backyard, drinking your mother's terrible café con leche?"

[Sound of traffic passing, horns honking]

"Of course I remember. We were going to be roommates in Miami, get jobs at fancy hotels, maybe even meet Ricky Martin! We had everything figured out."

"We were so naive, Meire. So stupid. We thought it would be like the movies. Save some money, buy a plane ticket, start a new life. But the visas... they kept rejecting us. And now..."

"And now you're with the coyotes. Leah, everyone here knows someone who didn't make it. Please come home."

"Home to what? The markets are empty, Meire. The hospitals have no medicine. Remember when my little brother got dengue last year? Mamá had to trade her wedding ring for antibiotics. I can't... I can't watch my family live like that anymore."

[Warning beep from the phone]

"Hold on... need to add more coins... [sound of coins dropping] Meire, I have to tell someone. I can't keep carrying this alone."

"Tell me what? What happened?"

"The group I'm with... there was this girl. My age, maybe younger. From Guatemala. The coyotes, they... they made her carry drugs. Inside her body. Little packets, like grapes. She cried all night before they made her swallow them."

"Dios mío..."

"That's not even the worst part. There was this woman with us, from El Salvador. In her fifties, with grandchildren in Los Angeles. She showed us their pictures the first night. She... she couldn't keep up in the desert. Her legs just... gave out."

"Leah—"

"We left her there, Meire. Under a cactus. She begged us not to go. She promised she'd rest just for an hour, then catch up. I... I told them I would stay with her. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone. But she grabbed my arm, looked me straight in the eyes, and said 'No, mi hija. One death is enough.' She made me promise to go. She... she made me do it..."

[Sound of crying, voice breaking]

"I had to go, Meire. I had no option. I had no option..."

"I had to run to catch up with the group. I could hear her praying behind me... her voice getting fainter and fainter. We tried crossing that same night, but there was a massive drug bust happening near the crossing point. Cartel activity. Border patrol everywhere, helicopters with searchlights. The coyotes said it was too hot, too risky. We had to turn back. Now we're stuck here in Tijuana, waiting to try again. And all I can think about is how we left her there. Alone. With just those pictures of her grandchildren."

[Sounds of street vendors calling out in Spanish]

"I can barely carry my own jacket now. It weighs more than all our school books combined. Remember how we used to complain about those heavy books? [bitter laugh] What I wouldn't give to be back in that classroom now."

"You can come back. Please, it's not too late—"

"It is. There's no going back. The desert... it changes you. Changes everything. I see things at night, when we're trying to sleep. Shadows moving. Sometimes I think it's the border patrol, sometimes... something worse. The coyotes watch us constantly. One girl tried to run away last week. They caught her. She came back with bruises she wouldn't explain."

[Background chatter in Spanish, English, and indigenous languages]

"Last night... last night we tried crossing through the river. Everyone said it would be safer than the desert. But there were farmers on the cliffs above the river—"

"Farmers?"

"With rifles, Meire. They didn't shout warnings. Didn't tell us to go back. They just... started shooting. The water... [voice breaking] the water turned red. People were screaming, trying to swim back, but the current was so strong. We had to stay underwater, holding our breath, praying they wouldn't see us. A mother lost grip of her baby's hand... I can still hear her screaming..."

"Por Dios, Leah..."

"Some people just... disappeared under the water. Never came back up. The farmers just stood there, watching. Like they were hunting animals, not watching people die. Human beings. Parents. Children. Dreams."

[Warning beep from the phone]

"I keep thinking about what Papá used to say before he died. About America being the land of opportunity. But he never knew about this part. The nightmare you have to survive to reach those opportunities. If they catch me... I've heard stories about the detention centers. But I can't go back, Meire. There's nothing left in Venezuela."

"There's your family. There's me. We love you—"

"Love doesn't fill empty stomachs. Can't buy medicine. Can't build a future. The inflation... it's worse now than when I left. My mother's entire month's salary can barely buy a week's groceries. I have to make it, Meire. I have to."

[Sound of more coins being inserted]

"You know what I think about most? Those stupid telenovelas we used to watch after school. Remember how we'd laugh at how dramatic they were? Now I understand. Real life... real desperation... it's more dramatic than any telenovela."

"Leah, please... you're trembling. I can hear it in your voice."

"I am. I'm scared all the time. But I'm also angry. Angry that this is what it takes. That we have to risk our lives just for a chance at a decent life. That farmers with rifles get to decide who lives and who dies."

[Distant police sirens]

"The coyotes are signaling. We're moving again tonight. Meire... if something happens to me—"

"No. Don't you dare say goodbye."

"Listen to me. If something happens, tell my mother I understand now. Why she cried when she found out I was leaving. Tell her I'm sorry for the pain I'm causing her, but not for trying. Tell her what she always told us: 'La esperanza es lo último que se pierde.'"

"Hope is the last thing we lose... Leah, please..."

"And Meire? That night before I left, when we stayed up planning our future? Those dreams we shared? Keep them. Maybe not Miami, maybe not the fancy hotel jobs, but something better than this. Promise me you'll keep hoping."

"I promise. But you have to promise to stay alive."

"I'll try. I have to go. They're waiting. Don't forget me, okay?"

"Never. Leah, wait—"

"Te quiero, Meire. Maybe next time... maybe I'll call you from the other side."

[Sound of coins running out, followed by the click of the phone being hung up, then a dial tone]