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Epilogue
Lillian
My sentence was completed after four months of jail time. The judge thought it was a long enough time for me to realize that I shouldn’t aid criminals, but he realized my situation was unique too, so he didn’t want to give me too hard of a time.
Smelling the fresh air again does wonders for one’s soul.
Plus, the idea that I’m out of that hole and free as a bird puts a smile on my face. I finally get to see my little girl again.
I wonder how she’s doing. If she’s missed me as much as I missed her.
If Hanson took good care of her while I was gone.
I grin. Knowing him, he gave her all the cuddles in the world.
The last time I saw him was when we separated and said goodbye. He didn’t come to my trial, but he had a good reason. I, on the other hand, did not. I couldn’t stomach seeing him after knowing he killed a man. And I didn’t want to put my baby girl through seeing her father in shackles either.
When he called me to tell me he was in jail, I hung up and never spoke to him again. I completely withdrew from him and everything surrounding him, including his proceedings, because it was too much to handle. After all, my little girl had miraculously survived after receiving a liver from an organ donor. She was in recovery. That was more important to me.
Maybe I should’ve gone to him or the authorities to demand an explanation for what he did. It would’ve made it easier for me to understand his actions. But I guess he knew me better than I know myself.
I stare out the bus window, getting more anxious the closer I get to the street they’re living on. I got the address via his friend Brandon, who contacted me right after I got out of jail. Apparently, once Hanson left the country, it was impossible for them to arrest him, so he could freely tout his location without getting caught.
The bus makes the final stop, and I grasp my bags and jump out. It’s only a few blocks farther. The neighborhood isn’t perfect, but it looks safe enough with lots of working-class houses and families walking around.
As I approach the right house, a little girl comes storming out the door.
I guess she saw me from the kitchen window.
“Daisy!” I yell as I drop my bags and open my arms until she runs right into them. I hug her tight, and whisper, “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Mommy! You’re home.”
Home.
I smile. I like that word.
And I like it even more the moment he walks out and shows his face.
We’re a family once again.
* * *
Hanson
The wilderness beyond Mexico City isn’t like it was back at home, but at least I can enjoy it in freedom. The sand whips up each time the wind blows, and we struggle not to close our eyes. Still, we all can’t help but smile at each other as we sit in front of the fire on the small camping ground we’ve made. A family reunion vacation, sort of speak.
For me, it’s a time to say goodbye to my old life in jail and to the sins of my past. To welcome a new life for all of us. So I sing the only song I can think of, the only song that makes sense; the song my people once sang.
Ahala Ahalágó naashá gha, (I am going in freedom,)
Shí naashá gha, shí naashá gha, (I am going in beauty all around me.)
Shí naashá lago hózo´o´lá.
Shí naashá gha, shí naashá gha, (I am going, I am going, in beauty;)
Shí naashá, ládéé hózo´o´lá. (It is around me.)
The one song that always makes my daughter smile.
God, I would hang for that smile.
* * *
