Chapter 30
CATARINA
My grandmother used to say, ‘if something seems too good to be true, it is.’
Personally, I couldn’t believe my good fortune over the past few months.
And then, as the TSA official scanned my passport, he said those three words I most feared hearing since this all began.
“Come with me.”
It seemed surreal as I walked behind the guard. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and, seeing it was Dustin, answered.
“Hey,” he said, and I could tell his voice was shaky.
“Hey. So, I’m getting taken into the back room by TSA.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck?”
“Jackie. The video. She didn’t release it to the press. She released it to the office of immigration. And if they have reasonable cause—which they would based on that video, they can—”
The phone got taken out of my hand by the security guard. “I’m sorry, there are no phones allowed in the interrogation room.”
“Interrogation room? Exactly what am I being interrogated about?”
“That’s not my role. I just bring you to the room.” The man hung up my telephone, and that’s when the really bad feeling in my gut returned.
We got to a nondescript looking room in the back of the airport, and the man led me inside. When he left, another man came in with black hair and glasses.
“Mrs. LeBlanc? Or, I suppose I should say, Miss Vidal,” he said, closing the door after the first guard left.
I wished I had officially changed my name right then and there, but I’d never gotten around to it.
“It’s Mrs. LeBlanc,” I said.
“Right. Look, I’ll cut to it. This morning, you were reported, and we have strong reason to believe you’re engaging in marriage fraud.”
I swallowed. “That’s not true.”
He scoffed. “Look, I’m not the judge and jury here, but I saw the video. Have you seen the video?”
“I haven’t.”
He pulled it up and showed me. The footage was surprisingly high quality—especially the audio.
Dustin and I sat at a table playing blackjack, drunkenly explaining to each other how we would ‘make up a giant lie about how we met each other in college.’ I was a little taken aback, because I usually wasn’t one to brag or speak so boastfully.
And we basically admitted to our scheme. I cringed.
“That’s not a good look. But does that really prove that we were lying?”
“You’re not a dummy, Catarina. You’re on record with an immigration official saying you met each other a certain way—a key part of that story. And now we have a video contradicting that statement. I can tell you this is not good, to say the least.”
I squinted. Something didn’t seem right. “But how did you get that video?”
“I’m not legally allowed to inform you. But, I’ll tell you what the deal is.
This is an open and shut case. I know the feds have been looking for someone to make an example out of, and this case would be a layup.
So you can fight it in court—risk the five-year prison sentence, which is likely—or you can get on a plane right now, go back to Spain, and do things the legal way.
Up to you. I’ll give you a few minutes. But if you don’t go back right now, this will be escalated. ”
“But—”
“You probably think I’m the bad guy here,” he continued, looking down, then he brought his eyes back up to me.
“You know they wanted me to arrest you publicly, invite some news cameras, that kind of thing.” He shook his head, then lowered his voice to a whisper.
“If you repeat this, I’ll deny it. But I’m a big Chicago Tigers fan.
This is our year, and we need LeBlanc. I begged the feds for a chance to talk some sense into you.
If they knew my ulterior motives . . .” He trailed off.
“So you’re giving me a get out of prison free card because you’re a Chicago hockey fan?” I reasoned.
“I didn’t say it. You did. Now look, I’ll give you a few minutes in here alone to think it over.” He stood up and started to head out.
“I want to talk to a lawyer,” I protested
“If you talk to a lawyer,” he said, “We’ll have to settle this in court. They’ll be legally obligated to dispute this. And the deal I’m offering you will be nullified.”
I muttered under my breath and sunk into my chair when he left me alone.
When I was little, my dad used to listen to this song in English. You’ve got to know when to hold em. Know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away.
Normally, I hated to submit. But this wasn’t a fight I was going to win. And the possibility of actual prison time made my stomach curdle.
I clenched my fists and a wave of emotion bowled me over. Was it really going to end like this? It felt…surreal. I took a deep breath, and I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t risk five years of prison time, for me and Dustin.
When the Chicago hockey fan walked back inside, I took the deal. I got on a plane back to Spain. And I felt the nightmare I had felt back in January come true. Before takeoff, I tried to call Dustin, but my phone had no service. It felt ominous.
My mom was surprised to see me, to say the least. I had tried to email her on the plane, but she hadn’t checked it yet.
“Dios mio why didn’t you call me?!” she asked when I arrived.
My phone chip didn’t work internationally, so I had to call my work via Skype and let them know what was going on.
I even spoke to good old Phil, who promised to ‘look into things on his end.’ But this did not look good.
As he explained it, this was a clear cut case of fraud, and I should stay far, far away from the United States.
I even saw a few stories pop up in the online news, smearing Dustin and me.
After a day, Dustin and I connected on a call.
“Babe. Tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Jackie. I know it was her. She released that video to smear us. I know it was her.”
“Goddamn it,” he muttered. “Well. We will get through this. I promise you. How are you holding up?”
I took a deep breath. “Fine.”
“Doesn’t sound like fine.”
“Trust me,” I said.
“Alright. Love you. Talk later.”
We kept up email correspondence, but the truth was I felt anything but fine.
Yet I didn’t know how to express this to Dustin.
Even though I knew my fear of commitment was kicking in, I couldn’t stop myself.
What kind of relationship was this going to be, with me living in Spain for the foreseeable future?
After a few days, I took a walk over to the local cemetery, where I looked at my father’s tombstone. Antolin Gustavo Vidal.
Only three men had ever told me they loved me in my life. There was my father, and he’d disappeared.
Then there was the odd—but passionate—one-night stand I had in med school. I ran away from him. And then there was, of course, Dustin LeBlanc.
It was hard, but I had to do it.
That night, I called him on Skype. He picked up after one ring.
“Hey Kit Cat,” he said, and I smiled.
“Hey.”
“I was on the phone all day with Jenny, and my coach, and everyone. Trying to figure out how we can fight this thing.”
I cleared my throat. “We can’t.”
“What do you mean, we can’t?”
“It’s clear as day, Dustin. We need to face the inevitable. Neither of us can handle five years of prison time—and that’s a very possible outcome at this point. We were caught in a big time lie.”
Dustin took a deep breath. “So you’re saying it’s over.”
“I still love you,” I said. “But this is for the best. You know it is. We’re up against forces out of our control.”
The other side of the phone line was silent for a few moments.
“Dustin?”
“I understand.”
We both hung on the line in silence for several moments.
Finally, I disconnected. Or maybe he did, first. My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely tell.
I blinked a few times, and felt my hurt.
But it needed to be done. There was no sense in living a lie and trying to stave off the inevitable. This was check mate.
Was I heartless for running away from Dustin?
No. I wasn’t running. I was being strong. I was being selfless. If I stayed, we could be prosecuted and both of our lives would conceivably be ruined.
Leaving was the right thing.
Like my father had told me, a veces la cosa mas fuerte es separarte.
Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is separate.