brassmonkey

2nd part


That Sunday, they had one last cookout. Luis grilled carne asada in the dirt courtyard outside their apartment while neighbors and friends grabbed sodas and Coronas from a cooler. Luis and Marlen tried to look happy. But it was times like these they were going to miss.

Of the eight apartments that share the courtyard, one was already empty. It belonged to Luis' brother and Marlen's sister, who are married to each other, and their two children. They moved to Pennsylvania two months ago. Soon, three more apartments would be empty. One belonging to Luis and Marlen, one belonging to Ruben and Betty, and one belonging to Daniel, the owner of the Jeep.

Luis and Marlen decided to leave at 5 p.m. As the hour approached, neighbors and friends stopped by to say goodbye.

Just before they left, Luis gathered his family in the kitchen, empty except for the santitos on a little altar. They said a short prayer and crossed themselves on the forehead. Luis and Marlen handed out the Catholic saints and, one by one, the travelers filed out of the apartment in tears. Daniel wrapped his arms around his father, Gilberto, 48. The father and son stayed locked in embrace for a long time. Daniel was heading to Pennsylvania, his father back to Mexico, way south to Chiapas. They had no idea if they would ever see each other again.

Marlen placed the Santo Niño de Atocha, a little pilgrim depicting the boy Jesus, on the front seat and started the pickup. The courtyard was filled with neighbors and friends. They were all crying. Luis climbed in the passenger seat and turned on the stereo. He cranked up an upbeat Mexican corrido to lighten the mood.

'Stay calm'

The pickup and the Jeep make it through the Rocky Mountains without trouble. On Wednesday night, the families stop at a little motel 30 miles past Denver and rent rooms for $60 a night. They sleep until 3:30 a.m. and are back on the highway by 4.

The trip is going smoothly now.

But in Iowa they have a scare. Driving east on Interstate 70, a blue Ford Crown Victoria pulls alongside the Jeep. Daniel's heart is pounding. The state trooper in the unmarked car is looking over at him and talking on his radio. The patrol car zooms ahead, pulling alongside the pickup. It's obvious the trooper is running the Arizona plates. The trooper seems like he is about to turn on his lights any second. But instead he speeds away.

At the next rest area, the pickup and the Jeep get off the highway.

Daniel tells Luis how nervous he was.

"It's best to stay calm," Luis tells him.

Plenty of work

One of Luis' brothers moved to Pennsylvania eight years ago. He has his own landscaping business. Another brother works with him. Luis was told there would be plenty of work for all three.

Marlen's sister cleans houses in Pennsylvania. She told Marlen there is plenty of work for her, too.

Luis' brothers told him they are less afraid of being turned over to immigration authorities by the police in Pennsylvania. But the state may not be as welcoming as they think.

In 2006, the mayor of Hazelton, in eastern Pennsylvania, declared that he wanted to make the city the toughest place on illegal immigrants in America. That year, the city passed an ordinance aimed at barring illegal immigrants from working or renting homes. A federal judge struck down the ordinance the following year.

Then, in 2008, a group of youths beat to death a 25-year-old illegal immigrant from Mexico in the town of Shenandoah.

Now, some Pennsylvania lawmakers say they want to pass an immigration law similar to Arizona's.

No one knows how many undocumented immigrants will eventually leave Arizona. But anecdotal evidence suggests that many families are going to other parts of the United States, not returning to their own countries.

"If things are bad here, they are much worse in Mexico," said Salvador, an undocumented immigrant who has lived in Arizona for 18 years. He is the godfather of Luis' daughter, Vanessa.

"There is no work in Mexico," Salvador said. "And then you have to deal with the sicarios," he said, referring to the hit men who carry out assassinations for the drug cartels. Salvador knows Mexican families moving to Oregon, California, Texas, Chicago, New York.

Despite the lack of jobs and the violence, Luis and Marlen say they considered returning to Mexico. But their children balked.

"They cried," Marlen said. "They got mad."

The children consider the United States their country. Not Mexico, she said.

Bittersweet reunion

The caravan reaches Pennsylvania at 3:56 p.m. on Friday. The two families have traveled 2,254 miles in 68 hours through nine states and three time zones. But Pennsylvania is a huge state. They still have hours of driving. There are rolling hills and dense forests. Instead of desert brown, everything is emerald green.

Arriving in Pennsylvania is bittersweet. Luis and Marlen have been crying a lot in the car. They are excited to see their relatives. But they know there is little chance of going back to Arizona. And soon the hard part will begin. Beginning new jobs. Getting an apartment. Making new friends. Starting over. Marlen makes a vow. If she ever gets her green card, she will return to Arizona.

At 9:45 p.m., Luis pulls into a rest area. He calls his brother, who says he should keep driving. Marlen thinks that is a bad idea. For the past half hour, Luis has been dozing off behind the wheel. She wants him to sleep. Luis is so tired he can hardly think. He spreads his map on the hood of the pickup. His brother tells him they are only 40 minutes away. But Luis' GPS, a going-away gift from a friend, and the map say they are more like 90 minutes away. Against Marlen's wishes, Luis keeps going.

The last hour and a half seem like an eternity. But they finally reach the exit. They make a few turns then drive through the center of a quaint town lined with mom-and-pop stores. This is their new home.

It is now 12:25 Saturday morning. Luis makes a final left turn, entering a sprawling apartment complex with green lawns, three-story brick buildings, and a community swimming pool, a vast improvement from the complex they left in Arizona.

Everyone piles out in the parking lot. They hug each other and their relatives and cry.

Inside the apartment, Luis finds his mother, who moved to Pennsylvania two months ago. She puts her arms around Luis and hugs him for a very long time. Then she whispers in his ear: "Gracias a Dios, llegaron seguros."

Thanks to God, you made it safely.

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