With shaking hands, I got out of my bed and grabbed both and Montgomery’s Hampton’s purses, pulling out their passports and train tickets and handing them to the man. His nod of approval calmed my nerves, but only momentarily. Thoughts of my bed at home flashed through my mind, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be there. The head officer then approached the other girl in the car. Her crying had ceased moments before they entered, but she remained curled up against the wall. She appeared to be asleep, but I knew she was faking. I wish I had thought of that. Shaking her roughly, the officer again demanded, “Documents, s'il vous plaît!” The girl opened her eyes and began to whimper again. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a train ticket and a passport. For the first time, I could see her clearly. She wore a long tan dress and a black hijab. Her face was marked with tearstains, but she was beautiful. But within her eyes, I sensed desperation and sadness. Where was she from? The officer momentarily reviewed the passport, and then a look of triumph swept across his face. not real! You are ze illegal on “Zis ees zis train!” The whimpers turned to complete sobs. A thick Middle Eastern accent came girl’s through as she I have nowhere else to go. stammered, “N-no…please! Please!” French Republic ees not open to illegal The two officers, who had been “Ze immigrants.” standing by the door, began to move forward. cannot or bring terrorist practices “You ‘ide ‘ere wiz you.”
With shaking hands, I got out of my bed and grabbed both Montgomery’s and Hampton’s purses, pulling out their passports and train tickets and handing them to the man. His nod of approval calmed my nerves, but only momentarily. Thoughts of my bed at home flashed through my mind, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be there. The head officer then approached the other girl in the car. Her crying had ceased moments before they entered, but she remained curled up against the wall. She appeared to be asleep, but I knew she was faking. I wish I had thought of that. Shaking her roughly, the officer again demanded, “Documents, s'il vous plaît!” The girl opened her eyes and began to whimper again. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a train ticket and a passport. For the first time, I could see her clearly. She wore a long tan dress and a black hijab. Her face was marked with tearstains, but she was beautiful. But within her eyes, I sensed desperation and sadness. Where was she from? The officer momentarily reviewed the passport, and then a look of triumph swept across his face. “Zis ees not real! You are ze illegal on zis train!” The girl’s whimpers turned to complete sobs. A thick Middle Eastern accent came through as she stammered, “N-no…please! I have nowhere else to go. Please!” “Ze French Republic ees not open to illegal immigrants.” The two officers, who had been standing by the door, began to move forward. “You cannot ‘ide ‘ere or bring terrorist practices wiz you.”
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