I was in the post office this morning when my phone started blaring the Tetris theme. When you get a call from the detention facility at 9 am, you fucking answer it, because that shit’s not normal. It was Shawshank. “What’s happening?”
“I just got word,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Because I was in public, I replied the only way I could. “Oh shit.”
“They’re driving me over the border and dropping me off.”
Jesus Christ, that’s cruel. He already expected he’d need to pay for a flight from whatever airport they shipped him to. However, they’ve opted to do the overland route. Will they at least slow the van down before they kick him out the back?
In the meantime, I won’t get to see him before he leaves. I don’t know if he’ll be able to call tomorrow, since it seems like all removals take place in the middle of the night.
He should be calling in about an hour. I’m hoping he’ll have more information for me, and that it will be something that I can pass along to his mother. I filled her in on what I knew this morning. That is to say, I passed along pretty much nothing at all. I don’t know when, or where he’ll be crossing. All I could say was “he’s leaving tomorrow.” If he goes through the border crossing his caseworker told me could be used, he’ll be about an hour from an airport.
It’s just getting to the airport that will be the bigger problem at the moment. He’ll have access to money to make his way. I couldn’t send his phone, and I’m sure that will be one of the first things he replaces.
And I just have to play the waiting game again.
