My wife is a wonderful woman. We have only been married 6 months or so, but we dated for 4 years before that. From our first date, we were best friends. We have been, since that first dinner and a movie and stroll through a bookstore afterwards, completely comfortable with each other. She has a silly, gentle sense of humor that I treasure. She accepts my many flaws without reproach or even comment. She loves to cook, keeps the house far cleaner than I ever could, and has told me in no uncertain terms that yard work is "man's work" and that I better keep the lawn mowed. She feels like a true partner, someone who has my back, shares my joys, eases my pains, makes my life more full simply by being a part of it.
But she looks so damn illegal.
Originally, she hails from Guatemala. I'm from the deep south - I tell people she's from the deep, deep, deep south. I've never had a problem with her ancestors coming from somewhere different than mine. My family loves her and has from the start.
But over the last few days, I've noticed a change. Her tan skin, her jet black hair (which she insists is just a very dark brown) - the sight of these fills me with a vague and nagging unease. Her accent, which I always found adorable, catches in my ears now like briars in blue jeans. When she mixes up her j's and y's, tells me it's so jummy to cuddle with me in the morning - I feel a chill run down my spine whereas before, I would laugh and tease her. Could she be one of Them?
I mean, I know we're married. Hell, I was at the wedding - there are pictures to prove it. But papers? Where are they? I've never seen them. I poked around her desk and files and even rummaged through her purse the other day when she was jogging, but I didn't find anything to prove she's in this country lawfully.
Come to think of it, I haven't been able to find my papers either. I must have had them at some point in my life, but like birth certificates and social security cards and those little prints of babies' ink-stained feet, my citizenship papers must have been misplaced over the years.
And so I am afraid. Not just for my wife, but for myself. I find that I often unconsciously slip into Manglish (mangled English and Spanish) - "Hey baby," I'll say, "kay key-ares comb air". That means "what do you want for lunch" I think. I've always liked eggs, but now it seems weird to eat eggs without some frijoles negros and some fried plantain. The mere sight of a jalapeno used to make me sweat, but now I can't eat red meat without a healthy dash of Yucateco to give it some real flavor. And I wonder, can illegal be contagious? Could I have caught it from her?
I hope, if they ever ask for our papers, my blue eyes and blond hair (what's left of it) are enough to prove that I belong here. But I'm not sure I can help her. I'm not sure I should. Isn't it my duty, as a patriot, as an American, to make sure They don't get to enjoy Our country? I mean, illegally and all. I hear that some of Them actually belong here too. But trust me, it's so damn hard to tell the difference.
Wish me luck friends. Tomorrow morning, when she's in the shower, I'm gonna start looking through her shoes. I hear that's the surefire way to spot Them. After that what happens, happens. All I want is to do the right thing and not be illegal myself.
Now if you'll excuse me, our Telenovela is starting.
Update: Muchas gracias - dammit, I mean - Thanks for the comments and the rec list! A nice surprise to wake up to.