For The Love Of The Game

Compile Error

He bit his lower lip, like they were hungry, starved of nutrients.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said. Not because I did not miss his lips, but because I was afraid I would not be able to stop.

"Please," he pleaded.

His eyes opened. They looked upon mine with so much longing. I reached to get closer. Before I knew it, his lips brushed against mine. It set off something within me, and finally, the tears that I held back began to spill.

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I was ripped away from my half-asleep state. Forced to awaken by the distinguishable ringtone. My brain angrily grunted like it was a strenuous activity to open my eyes. I flung my hand across the bed and grabbed the cell phone. The name flashing across the screen finally made me rise from my bed.

"Hola mami," I said, bringing the phone to my ears.

"Hola Mija, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Are you sure, Mija?"

"Yeah..." I said, this time more unsure. After I had arrived home from Noah's parents' house, I locked myself in my room and called my mom. Everything that had happened spilled like an overfilled glass. A single drop far beyond it could hold, had pushed me over the precipice. Now, after that conversation with Noah, I just felt tired. Dried out.

"Can you put me on video call? I want to see you," my mother asked.

"Sure." I pulled the phone from my ears, leaned it against a pillow in front of me, and enabled video call.

My mother's image appeared on the phone - a motherly smile was present on her face. I could almost imagine her sitting in front of me. Her hand would have reached forward and pinched my cheek playfully. Then she would have taken me into an embrace, gently combed my hair, and brushed all my worries. "When you first called, I knew you needed some time to process things. I think it's time we discussed you going to talk to that lawyer?"

"How can you still want me to go? You realize he is the same one that sent you away?"

"Yes."

"Does that not matter to you? How can you not care?" I had to watch my tone. Remind myself she was not the target of my anger.

"I care so much, Mija. To this day, that remains the worst moment of my life."

Her words caused my nails to dig deep into the bedsheet. I questioned. How did she look so calm? When I felt like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. I have seen it. How much she has suffered every day for a year. Every tear she has shed opened a scar in my heart. Seeing that judge again, ripped them all open.

"Do you want to know why your father and I went to the U.S in the first place?" My mother looked down at her hands for a second. All the burns she had accumulated over years of working in a kitchen had hardened her skin.

"To have a better life," I answered.

"To be able to provide a better life for our future children. We knew we couldn't do that here. That is still our goal, and I'll be damned if I were to pass that on to you when there is a way for us to return."

"I don't want to see that fucking bastard-"

"It's not about what YOU WANT!" My mother screamed, causing my voice to die out. For a second, she closed her eyes. Her hands rubbed her tense temple, releasing some of the building pressure. "Mija, it's not about what you want. It's about what needs to be done. I almost die twice just for the chance at a better life for you. Once by drowning. Another from dehydration. So if I can make it through that, you can bottle away your pride, and make it through this."

I bit my lip tightly. I wanted to bite back. But I knew she was right.

"Mija?" She called, her voice far more gentle this time.

I made the semblance of a sound.

"I know what I am asking is hard for you. But, I have spent a year being angry, and it has done me no good. At this point, all I care about is seeing you."

"I want to see you too."

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My heart pounded against my chest as I thought upon my mother's words. 'Forget your pride, Riley,' I told myself. After taking a deep breath, I pushed the large wooden doors.

Standing there, waiting by his desk, was Noah's dad. "I am glad you came, Riley."

I froze for a second. Despite all the mental preparation. All the words that I had prepared disappeared from my mind.

"Would you like to take a seat?" He pointed at the chair in front of his desk.

Without saying a word, I sat down. He followed suit and moved to sit behind his grand mahogany desk. There was something about a desk that could tell you so much about a person. I did not expect him to look like this. Books upon book laid out over his desk. Papers covered every inch. Scratches here and there could be seen, perhaps when he had written beyond the pages. Now those words remain like a stain on the shiny surface of the desk.

"Did you bring the paperwork I asked for?" He asked, looking at me from across the desk.

I dug through my back and handed him the paperwork. Again. I did not speak. It seemed that my lack of speech was beginning to aggravate him. The folder I had given him was discarded on the desk. Instead, he took his glasses off and looked back at me.

"I thought it would be best to ignore the elephant in the room and focus on work. But, that will be difficult if you are not even able to speak to me."

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of me?" His head tilted and his eyes widened in surprise.

"No. Afraid of what might slip out of my mouth."

He chuckled, but there was a regretful bitterness in his tone. "I can imagine you have a whole list of things you would like to say to me."

"More like an entire trilogy. Prequels and sequels included."

"I think I will need an entire library then, for all these years of work."

"Why did you become a judge?" I was surprised at my own question. But I was having trouble placing this person in a frame. Had I met him on the streets, I would think, what a pleasant older man.

"I worked as a lawyer for a couple of years prior. Most of them I spent advocating for fair due process. I thought that would make me a good immigration lawyer."

"That's hardly what I saw that day." There was perhaps too much sass in my response. But I found his explanation lacking.

"Very far from it. A new administration came into place before your family's case. In the blink of a second, everything changed. I knew I was joining a broken system...I didn't know it could become even more broken. Quotas were put in place. Cases were scheduled to overlap. Rights were taken away. Eventually, it hit me, I was nothing more than oil on the gears of an assembly line."

"Why still do it then?"

"For some hope, that in a couple of cases, I may be able to make a difference. I haven't worked this hard in a long time"— he gestured to all the paper piles on his desk — "but I want to start trying again."

I held his gaze. Searching for any signs of lies. I sensed none. I wondered if his words were true. But then again, I remembered my mother's words. At this point, it didn't matter. I had to focus. Focus on reuniting with them again.

"Let's get to work then."