Straddling the Line

Antonio’s shoulder aches with the weight of the bag. He runs through a mental checklist to make sure he didn’t forget socks or his passport. Antonio’s father stands with his back against the wall and arms folded firmly across his chest. His rage radiates out and through the cold ceramic tile. The disappointment and frustration are etched into the deep lines on his face.

Antonio’s mother tries to maintain her composure as her eyes well up with tears. She is tired of protesting. Her husband can pout and furrow his brow until the end of time, but the fact is that things are only getting more expensive by the day, and there seem to be more mouths to feed in the house every time they blink.

Dishonored. Disowned by his own father for going out into the world to make something of himself.

When Antonio landed in Texas, he was surprised to hear familiar words being spoken by others around him. As time went on, he felt the whiplash from the negative reactions of some of the Americans he would meet. Despite being a nation of immigrants, some act rather territorial and defensive of their evolving culture.

Dishonorable. Disgraceful for his existence, for swimming in their lake. Those people didn’t matter. All Antonio cared about was the small living he was making for himself and the fact that he was able to send money back home for his father’s medicines, even if he still wasn’t ready to return his calls.