He fumbled in his pocket, for the umpteenth time, feeling for the switch. He knew it was there of course. Yet he liked the touch of it in his hand-the way it made him feel. Strong. Powerful. For once. After all these years. After all he had been through. He was finally going to change things. What a feeling.
His mind went back. Fifteen years. It seemed like a lifetime, which it was mostly. He had only been 8 at the time. But he could remember. He never forgot. He felt the pain all over again. The journey, the long journey; a way out of the misery they were in. He and his mother and his little sister Mia. It took them months. And it was horrible. They were beaten and robbed many times along the way. Miserable. But his mother just kept telling them “When we get there, we’ll have a good life again. I’ll get a real job, you will go to school, you’ll learn all about the world. And you’ll grow up in a good place. Just wait.”
When they arrived at the border and saw the stars and stripes, his mother cried-they had finally made it. But something went wrong. His mother had said they would seek asylum, that the Americans were good, generous, and rich people, and that they would help them.
But it wasn’t to be. They never even got to ask. They weren’t allowed close to what his mother had called a “port of entry.” A big mean guy in a uniform had kept them away. So they waited. And waited. For days. When they finally made a dash for it, more mean guys in uniforms caught them, and took them away. As the mean guys pulled him away from his mother and Mia, his mother kept yelling “Be strong. I’ll find you.”
But she never did. He was taken to a “detention center” with a bunch of other boys. They were all told they’d see their families soon, but that never happened. Instead he was sent to a foster home. Then another. Then a few more stops. Finally, the Americans sent him back home. Without his family. Where he knew absolutely nobody. He had no idea what had happened to his mother and Mia. Were they living happily in America somewhere? He didn’t believe that. These Americans were not the good generous people his mother had believed in. They had said they wanted to "make America great again.” Apparently that meant they didn’t care about him. Or his family. Or anybody except themselves. Some of his foster parents seemed like nice people. But mostly, Americans were cruel. He didn’t know where his family was, but he knew nothing good had happened. Were they even alive? Probably not.
No matter though. For 15 long years, his whole life had been building to this point. The months in the “detention center,” the trip back to his homeland, the years on the street, the gangs, the drugs. But always, through all that, the hate. The Americans had taken away his mother, and sister. And they would, finally pay for that.
He looked around him. His mother had been right about one thing. The Americans WERE rich. As they went about their lives all around him, they seemed to be completely unaware how good they had it-and how bad others had it. There was a man over there, just reading in the shade, seeming not a care in the world. Off to the right, there was a teenage couple completely absorbed in each other. There was a woman walking her dogs. And over there was a young family- a mother and her son and daughter-just like what his family had once been, except much richer. Everyone seemed so happy.
And he hated every one of them. They all had it so good, and didn’t seem to care about anyone else. They didn’t care what America had done to him. They didn’t care what had happened to his mother. Or Mia. So he hated them. And if he was honest with himself, he hated almost everyone. Except the one man who had understood him, had talked to him like he meant something, who listened to him. And who had given him this vest. He had been assured that he wouldn’t feel a thing, that it would be quick, and it would be over. And many Americans would feel his pain. For once.
This isn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to find his family again; somehow put his life back together. Live a normal life. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He tried to imagine, one last time, what it would be like to live a happy life. But that had been taken away all those years back when they took his mother and sister. His chance for a happy life came to an end that day. And the people around him, so happy and carefree--theirs would end today.
Today. Right now. He felt the switch one last time.
And he squeezed.
