Our chorus of yeses was loud and unanimous.
“Follow me.” She carefully held apart sections of barbed wire for us to climb through, and we made our way to the farm at the side of the highway. We crossed several rows of plants before she knelt down and picked up a watermelon. We all sat in a circle around her as she took a pocketknife and began cutting into the massive fruit. After breaking open the watermelon, she carved off chunks of the red fruit and handed pieces to us. Half starved, we attacked our juicy treat and spit seeds at one another. The juice trickled down my arms and dripped off my elbows into the dirt.
I was grateful when I got to wash my sticky hands and arms at the next gas station restroom, because so much dirt clung to the sticky residue from the watermelon juice. The pit stops to forage for fruit quickly became my favorite part of the long journey.
At night, Lorna pulled off onto a dirt road, and we simply slept wherever we were. Thankfully, Lorna opened the back of the camper. Though we didn’t get a breeze, we did get to breathe fresh air for a change.
On the third day, Natasha opened the sliding window and said, “We’re coming to the US border checkpoint. Mom is going to pull over and explain to us what to do.”
Lorna stopped the orange pickup near a small park, and she opened the back of the camper. “Okay, kids, time to get out.”
Hyrum and I hopped out quickly.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to drive across the border with my kids, because I have their papers. I’ll park the truck on the US side and leave my children with it. Then I’ll walk back, get the two of you, and we’ll cross back over together.”
“But we don’t have any papers.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I knew better than to question one of the sister-wives.
“I’ll use my kids’ papers for you. That’s why we have to go in two groups. And we’ll have a different border agent when we walk across than I will when I drive across.”
I marveled at the brilliance and simplicity of the plan.
“If you do as I ask and stay put, I’ll buy you ice cream after we get across the border.”
Hyrum and I sat on the park bench and watched the orange truck disappear into Mexican traffic. We waited patiently for Lorna to return. I enjoyed sitting outdoors instead of lying down in a closed camper, and I eagerly anticipated eating ice cream.
Lorna eventually showed up, looking every bit like a tourist just out to see Mexico for the day. “Come on, kids. Let’s go back to America.”
We crossed the border without incident and soon were in line at the McDonald’s in Brownsville, Texas. Lorna ordered three chocolate shakes and gave one to Hyrum and me to split between us. The rich chocolate tasted incredible, especially after months of tortillas and smashed black beans!
We still had several hours to go before we reached Houston, but after the chocolate shake, the drive didn’t seem as hot or difficult. I smiled at Hyrum, who still had a tiny, brown mustache from trying to get the last couple of drops out of the cup we shared.
Lorna took us to Mark and Lillian’s house in Houston, where I was reunited with Celia. We hugged and talked a mile a minute, catching up after months apart. We only spent a night there. The next morning Mark and Lillian put Celia, Hyrum, and me on a plane to Denver, my first plane ride ever.
Hyrum and I were buckled in our seats when one of the stewardesses came over to check on us. “Y’all doing okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. When will the airplane take off?” I asked.
She laughed in a sweet way at my question. “The airplane took off about five minutes ago, honey. We’re already flying.”
I stared at her in shock.
The same stewardess later brought us each a pair of airplane wings to pin on our shirts for being first-time travelers.
When we landed, Mom was there to meet us at the gate. I hugged her so hard I didn’t want to ever let go.
LIVING IN THE BEACH HOUSE had been such a high point in my life that I was overdue for things to start going downhill. And they did, with our move to a tiny three-bedroom, two-bathroom, dilapidated house on Ogden Circle in Denver. All told, three sister-wives and twenty children were crammed together in a 1,900-square-foot living space. My mom had little time to spend with me, but I’d grown used to that. Her nearness and presence was enough.
Once again, I was ushered into a new era of discomfort, fear, and insecurity any time I wasn’t in the new school with my younger siblings. I loved being at school. It was a haven and a respite from the realities of my home life. I saw my mom only in the morning before I left because all of the sister-wives and the older teenagers in the family worked at Michael’s Appliance —named after the archangel Michael —while the younger kids were in school. They typically stayed at the warehouse until nine o’clock. So all afternoon and evening, we younger ones were home alone, unsupervised. One of the older —barely older —girls would be left behind to tend all the little kids. A twelve-or thirteen-year-old kid would be left in charge of a mass of ten or more children.
I still had my secret stash of pesos that I had earned in Mexico. Only a few people knew about the money. I was afraid the pesos might disappear if I didn’t watch them carefully. I finally confided in my mom’s sister-wife Linda, who handled finances and did the bank runs for the family business. She offered to exchange the Mexican money for US dollars. The total came to more than twenty dollars. Never having had —or even held —more than a few pennies at one time, I felt rich. I spent the money buying treats and other goodies at the store.
Linda lived in a small, roach-infested apartment located on the second floor of the appliance business. A kindhearted woman, she always treated my siblings and me with respect. Her daughter, Darlene, was my age, and we enjoyed playing together. When we were younger, our moms had given us matching dresses with a colorful apple print on them. Linda’s two sons, Tony and Robert, were also my playmates. Since she had a sweet tooth, Linda frequently bought a ten-pack of Snickers bars for herself and hid them in various places in her apartment. We quickly found her favorite hiding places and tried not to get caught enjoying the chocolaty goodness.