Wherever Our Feet Carry Us

Antonio stepped out of the front door. I wrestled with the keys in his pocket as he locked the entrance and turned towards his car.

Today I'll walk, he told himself as he paused at the car door. So he took off on foot trailing the concrete pathway of his grassy neighbourhood past the adolescents playing basketball on the court. The net's best days were behind it, almost nostalgic seeing its rusted metal ring hanging on for dear life.

He was surrounded by neglect, decaying architecture from bordered up residential homes that had once housed families, and hid stories behind their timber lined walls.

It wasn't just his neighbourhood but the town had fallen into decay since the mining and industrial factories had packed up an left town.

Jobs were hard to come by, life was reliant on counting pennies and hoping you'd have enough to pay your power bill, or to have some set aside for health care.

Antonio didn't really know where he wanted to go. He had to get out of the house, breathe fresh air even though these days it was an intoxicating black smog from the nearby coal factory that he was forced to inhale.

Winter made it infinitely more difficult to contend with as the thick, repugnant steam of black smoky ooze serenaded the sky, it was astounding some days to see only black smoke as the dazy haze of blue sky trickled in almost as if it were a mirage.

Antonio pulled into the local dive bar. It was around eleven o'clock and a couple of beat-up cars and a vintage Harley Davidson told him that the regular crowd were lining up for their routine chat and drink.

He pulled up a seat at the bar as the faithful bartender, Morgan stepped into his sight.

A long lanky beard, forest green vest and striped cotton shirt. His weary expression worn down by the thick crevasse of wrinkles that rode his forehead with the deep depression of a desert canyon. His blue eyes darkened by age and the limitless wisdom he'd acquired throughout his life.

"What'll it be, Tony?", he inquired with a routine that felt less pressing and with more the realisation that he already knew the answer.

"Tap beer, I guess", Antonio responded with guilt. It was too early to start day drinking but he was bored, it'd been several months since he was laid off his job at the timber mill and finding a replacement income while living on limited food stamps wasn't easy.

The bartender poured a long glass and he watched as the amber liquor flowed into the glass. It was mesmerising and eloquent as the light danced off the glass.

Antonio took a sip and washed away his doubts. There was something about the way alcohol disengaged him from the weight of a languishing mind caught in a perpetual cycle of self-pity.

He polished his glass off, wiped the frothy liquor with the back of his palm and walked out the door.

Cracks of the afternoon sky turned blue through the grayish haze.

An old flatbed pick-up rolled past him the window down as a young skinheaded male washed his eyes over Antonio. His eyes snarled as though he were somehow offended by the presense of the young latino walking before him.

Antonio thought nothing of it as the flatdeck pulled away and he stumbled on down the pavement past the overgrown vines and skyscaper high blades of grass and weeds that suffocated what was once the local dental clinic.

A little further on he reached downtown with his mind wandering as he watched the presence of a police patrol car pull up beside a young latino woman walking her baby in a stroller. There was a heated argument before the young lanky policeman pushed the woman against the car forcing her to hug its body as he slammed cuffs on her wrists.

Antonio paused as he watched the policeman forcibly push the woman into the back of the cruiser. The policeman exchanged a glance with Antonio as he entered his cruiser. A minute went by as the patrol car drove off down the street. This was America today, a place of fear and volatility, it was best to say nothing and to hide behind the veil of discontent, Antonio knew the outcome if he spoke up.

Antonio didn't move for what felt like an eternity, until a woman and her young son passed him. He'd blanked out completely and in his dazed state forgotten what he was doing. What if that had been him?

America had become a scary place, nobody felt safe. Politicians had fed rhetoric from both sides of the dangers of each other.

The current affairs on TV or online had gravitated towards social dexterity on values, as smalltowns faded into obscurity. Nowadays, towns were pumped up with drug-addled corpses of trauma and disenfranchisement. Townsfolk were always seeking the next fix that would nourish their sadness and disillusionment.

Antonio passed by shops emptied. Ghosts of the past worn like boy scout badges brushed his memory.

He entered a store, threw his eyes around in a wild gaze as he flicked his fingers between items on the shelves. He had a craving for something sweet but couldn't define what it was that would satisfy his craving.

He wouldn't have noticed their presence had he not seen the glistening red and blue lights dance off the cooler windows like a disco ball light. The buzzer of the door as two police officers entered.

Antonio noted their presence and observations as they started to search around the store, they were searching for something or somebody. Then, a blonde, blue eyed and lanky officer sat his gaze on Antonio.

"You, sir. You got papers?". He asked with precise confidence.

Antonio was lost for words as he searched in his pocket for ID which he retrieved and handed without delay to the officer.

The officer shook his head as if to say this will not be okay.

"Where you from, sir?", he inquired without hesitation. Antonio what this was really about. He shook his head in disgrace, he let his eyes fall to the ground because nothing he could say would prepare him for what would come next.

"We've reason to believe that you entered the United States illegally and you've been working here. Is that true?". It wasn't but Antonio knew that it wouldn't matter. He'd entered the United States legally on a student visa, he'd run through all the procedures and had done his due diligence. He'd swapped to a work visa but after his company folded so to did his work visa and privileges.

He was afraid to speak so he stood in silence, the voice of the officer fell into a soft inaudible mumble as he watched without recognition of what the officer was saying.

With his rights revoked, he knew he would imprisoned for some days and deported back to Guatemala where his wife and daughter had died some years ago. That he would be hunted by the cartel that killed his wife and daughter because Antonio was unable to pay his security fees to protect his shop from the gang. And now even smalltown America could not protect him, if anything it had made him a target.

As the cuffs were pulled from the waist of the officer, he wondered who had spoken about him?