OFF THE RECORD (First Person)

26. Guilty

November 2014

Emma

Imelda was talking to my coworker, who sat on the desk adjacent to mine.

Donovan was the perfect neighbor. He didn't bother, he wasn't noisy, and he went about his day just doing his work.

Unfortunately for me, he was an attractive guy, tall with dark skin, black hair, and a lock beard. Because of this, many of my female peers visited our work area, standing in front of my desk, ignoring my presence.

I always reciprocated the action, concentrating on my daily tasks. Not that my coworkers were mean to me, but since the first day I had started working for the lawyers Hernandez and Solis, I had established my boundaries, interacting only on labor related issues.

I was working on a case of an undocumented man. He had been stopped for not following a traffic stop. After living in the country for ten years, he had no argument to stay in it.

He had come alone, crossing the scorching desert at only fifteen years old. He had no family to fight for him. His record was clean, but he didn't have many strings attached to the country. He hadn't gone to school, to be able to work full time. He had only accomplished to buy a small home, but he still had some time to pay it all off.

After having paid all the medical expenses for his sister, which was the reason he had crossed the border in the first place, he had grown accustomed to living the American life.

In his line of work, he had been asked to provide an ITIN number, to be able to pay taxes, just as a social security number, but without the benefits of such. He kept sending money to his hometown in Michoacán, Mexico, but he had stayed in the United States as he had fallen in love with a woman in his workplace. It hadn't been long since they had ended their relationship, so he couldn't ask for her help.

Now, I was looking for a way he could stay in the country legally. Usually, cases of single men were the hardest to win. Without kids, or family to hold them down, even more.

I was printing copies of his outstanding employee certificates, monthly mortgage receipts, and his yearly tax reports.

If I personally thought a person was worthy of receiving legal status in the country, that was not my problem. I had to fight for every case. That was my job.

My phone vibrated, indicating a text message. It was from Tomas.

I can't stop thinking about you. Please answer. I miss you. He had written.

I might answer back on my lunch hour. Or maybe as I was about to leave for the day.

Every day he had called, but I didn't have the guts to answer him. He didn't leave my thoughts, either. I had scolded myself, for falling into temptation. But every time I remembered that night, my stomach would flip around, and I could feel static on every nerve, remembering the ghosts of his fingers on my skin.

I knew it had been a bad idea to let myself go. I needed to consult it with Perla first. The day after the reunion, I had decided to reach her. I called her phone, her social media, I even called her mother, Mrs. Guadalupe, to see if she had another way to get a hold of her daughter, but I had no success.

It had been four days since then. I didn't want to build his hopes up, but I didn't want to continue if Perla was not okay with us being together.

"Emma, the judge moved case 100813 back to March. We got a little breather there." Informed me one of my bosses, Mr. Solis.

He was my favorite boss of the two, being easier going. He was a short old man, with tired eyes, but a smile always present. His olive skin was full of wrinkles, and he had a head full of white hair that he always combed to the side.