“Did Saylor give you that to sleep with?” I lifted my chin, pointing at the stuffed animal Billie had just set on the coffee table.
“Nope.” Billie plopped down on the couch next to me. “I asked her if I could borrow it. I figured if we literally had one in the room, we wouldn’t be able to ignore it anymore.”
My brows drew together before I realized what she meant: A stuffed elephant.
I frowned. “I guess we have been avoiding a certain subject, haven’t we?”
“If the elephant in the room gets any bigger, there isn’t going to be room for me.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you sooner. I just hate to spend a single minute of our time together discussing anything to do with…her.”
“I know. And so do I. But when I don’t know what’s going on, my brain fills in the blanks, usually while I’m sleeping. The other night I had a dream that immigration officers busted down my door and deported me to Guam.” Billie shook her head. “I don’t even know where Guam is on a map.”
I smiled sadly. “I get it. Our subconscious mind doesn’t take a rest. So we should talk about it. But first let me do something.” I picked up my phone from the coffee table and set a timer for five minutes, along with unlimited snoozes. Billie watched me do it.
“Are we limiting our talk to five minutes?” she asked.
“Nope. We’ll talk however long you need to. But every five minutes, I’m going to stop and tell you something I love about you. I think it’s important to remind ourselves that what we have is real, and what we’re talking about is nothing but fake.”
Billie smiled. “I like that idea.”
I took a deep breath and shifted to give her my full attention. “Okay, so you know the hearing is the day after tomorrow. But what I haven’t mentioned is that Maya called me last night.”
The smile on Billie’s face wilted. “What did she want?”
“We need to prep for the interview with immigration. You and I haven’t really talked about what happens during that, but the officers assigned to our case can basically ask us any questions they want to determine if our marriage is real.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Personal ones. Like, what color toothbrush does your wife have?”
Billie’s eyes bulged. “Oh my God, Colby. How are you supposed to know that?”
“That’s why Maya called. She wanted my email address to send me a questionnaire to fill out. The damn thing is thirty pages, typed. The plan is that we will both fill out the parts that apply to us individually, and I fill out the questions that relate to our relationship so we can swap and memorize each other’s answers.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m supposed to have it back to her by tomorrow morning, and I haven’t gotten past page one. Every time I start to work on it, I feel physically sick.”
“Can I see the questions? Maybe I can help you get it done.”
I met Billie’s eyes. “You sure you want to do that? Some of them are pretty personal, and it might be hard to read.”
She nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can to help because the sooner you pass the interview, the sooner she’s out of our lives.”
I wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, but I got up and got the papers from the drawer in the kitchen anyway. Handing them to Billie, I watched her face closely as she read. The first page was somewhat innocuous. It asked questions like my favorite color, if I slept on my back or stomach, my favorite foods, and how many cups of coffee I drank in the morning. But when she flipped to the next page, I knew those questions would give her pause. And they did. Billie’s eyes grew wide before she began to read out loud.
“Do you come inside your wife or wear a condom? Oh, God, Colby. This is really personal stuff.” She scanned the page a little more. “Your wife’s favorite sexual position?” She shook her head, but kept reading. “Holy shit. Does your wife swallow? Can they really ask things like this? It sounds like the damn officer is planning on getting his rocks off listening to you two answer these questions. How are you supposed to know all this when you only spent one night together years ago?”
I shook my head. “I know. That’s why I haven’t gotten very far.”
Billie was still flipping through the rest of the pages when the alarm I’d set went off. I hit snooze and waited for her to look up at me before taking her hand. “I love that you treat my little girl like she’s your own.”
Her face softened. “You don’t know how badly I wish she were right now, Colby.”
I leaned in and brushed my lips with hers. “I love you, Billie.”
“I love you, too.”
When I pulled back, she sat up taller. “Okay, we need to get this done. Can you grab us a pen, so we can get started?”
“You sure?”
“Very.”
I got a pen from the kitchen, and Billie flipped back to page two. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “We’re going to answer all of these questions as if they apply to you and me.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No fucking way. I’m not giving that woman or anyone insight into our life.”
“No one is going to know the responses apply to us. And it will be easier for you to remember all the answers if they’re true. Besides, I sort of like that you’ll be thinking of us during the interview, and that Maya is going to unknowingly be pretending to be me.”
I grinned. “That’s a little twisted, but I fucking love it.”
Billie chuckled. “Okay, so let’s run through these. I’ll ask the questions, you answer as if it applies to us, and I’ll write down the answer.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Do you come inside your wife or wear a condom?”
“I come inside her because she turns me on so much a condom can’t hold all my jizz. Plus, she trusts me, and she’s on the pill.”
Billie smiled. “I think I’ll skip the jizz part.”
After she finished writing, she looked up again. “What is your wife’s favorite position?”
“Easy. On top.”
“I do like riding you.” She bit her lip. “I was actually thinking maybe next time I can face the other way and you can watch my ass go up and down.”
I closed my eyes and conjured up that visual with a groan. “You’re killing me, woman.”
She giggled. “Next question, does your wife swallow?”
That was it. The thought of Billie on her knees with my cock down her throat was too much to handle. We were going to have to take a quick intermission. I plucked the packet of papers and pen from Billie’s hands and tossed them over my shoulder before scooping her off the couch and into my arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure I get the questions right. How am I supposed to answer your favorite position if you haven’t ridden me reverse cowgirl? You wouldn’t want me to risk failing this test, would you?”
Billie’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Definitely not.”
***
“Mr. and Mrs. Lennon?”
Two days later, a man with a handlebar mustache called our names. We’d been waiting for the better part of an hour in uncomfortable plastic seats. I stood and held my hand out for Maya to walk first, and we followed the guy down a dimly lit hall toward a conference room with no windows.
“I’m Officer Richard Weber.” He slid a business card across the table to us. “I’m the officer assigned to your immigration application. Can I have some picture ID from both of you, please?”
I dug into my wallet and pulled out my driver’s license, while Maya took out an expired passport from Ecuador. The officer examined them both carefully, looking between the photo IDs and our faces a few times before handing them back and taking his seat.
“You should have received some papers that contain a notice of your rights during this hearing,” he said. “Twice actually. Once in the mail with your appointment letter, and again today from the receptionist when you signed in. Have you received these notices?”
Maya and I looked at each other and nodded. “We have,” she said.
“Any questions about your rights?”
We both shook our heads.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” The officer picked up a pen and clicked the top, then looked directly at me. “Mr. Lennon, how do you normally greet your wife when you see her?”
My forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“It’s pretty straightforward. When you see your wife, perhaps when you get home from work or whatever, do you give her a hug, a kiss on the lips, kiss on the cheek, maybe? Shake her hand?” He shrugged. “Or perhaps no physical greeting is exchanged?”
Fuck. That definitely hadn’t been a question on the sheets Maya made me fill out. But I decided to stick to the method Billie and I had used to come up with thirty pages of answers and responded as if the question applied to my relationship with her. “I kiss her on the lips.”
He held my eyes. “Yet when you arrived today, you didn’t kiss your wife hello. Is that correct?”
My face must’ve asked the question I was thinking because the officer shrugged. “I happened to be coming in from my break when you walked up, and I saw you greet Mrs. Lennon.”
Maya jumped in. “We…had a bit of an argument last night.”
The officer kept his focus solely on me. “What was the fight about, Mr. Lennon?”
I was suddenly nervous as shit and drawing a complete blank. So I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Maya ran up the cell phone bill, and I was upset about it.”
“How much was the bill?”
“Uh, I think about three-hundred dollars.”
“And what is it normally?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred.”
“Do you two have the same cell phone provider?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He jotted something down on his yellow notepad. “As a follow up, after this hearing, I’d like a copy of both of your cell phone bills for the last sixty days.”
Fuck.
Maya flashed a plastic smile. Even I could tell it was fake. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll make sure you receive that.”
“Mr. Lennon, which hand does your wife write with?”
Jesus Christ. None of these questions were in the papers we’d filled out. Since I had no goddamn clue if she was a righty or lefty, my first reaction was to stay consistent and answer as if it applied to Billie. But Billie was a lefty, and there were definitely more righties than lefties in the world, so I decided at the last second to go with the odds. “She writes with her right hand,” I said.
The officer set his pen down on top of the pad he’d been writing on and slid them both over to the other side of the table in front of Maya. “Can you please print your name and then sign in script, Mrs. Lennon?”
Maya looked at me. “Sure. But I think my husband might be a little nervous today. He knows I’m a lefty. Right, sweetheart?”
Things didn’t get much better after that. Even when our answers were in sync, I couldn’t stop sweating. I had to blot my forehead several times just to keep droplets from falling on the damn table. My attorney had said the average interview lasted about twenty minutes, but it was well over an hour before Officer Weber put us out of our misery. By then, I had to be careful not to lift my arms because I was pretty sure if I did, I’d have giant sweat rings in my suit jacket.
We left with a lackluster goodbye after being told we’d receive a letter in the mail in a few weeks.
Maya was silent the entire elevator ride down to the street level, even though it was only the two of us in the car. But the minute we stepped out onto the street, her hands flew to her hips and she got in my face. “You did that on purpose!”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? The last thing I want to do is be stuck with you one minute longer.”
“If my application gets denied, this is all your fault!”
“All my fault? You’re the one who gave me the dumb packet of questions to fill out. Nothing he asked was in there!”
“You couldn’t tell by my handwriting that I’m a lefty?”
“I was too busy memorizing thirty pages of answers to questions that no one asked. Your favorite color is black, which matches your heart, and you usually go to bed around three in the morning and wake up at eleven. What are you, a fucking vampire?”
We glared at each other. Every second that ticked by just made me hate her more. I needed to get the hell out of here before I did something I’d regret. I shook my head in disgust. “I gotta go.”
“How are we going to fix this?”
“That’s a you problem. You dragged me into this mess. You need to find a way to get us out of it.”
***
“Daddy, are you sad?” Saylor asked as I dried her off from a bath that night.
I froze. “No, honey. Why?”
She pointed to her head. “Because I still have shampoo in my hair.”
I looked to find my daughter’s hair was indeed still full of suds. I’d taken her out of the bath and started drying her off without even noticing. Worse, I didn’t even remember sudsing her up.
I forced a smile. “I was just testing to see if you were paying attention.”
My little girl might’ve only been four, but she already knew how to see right through bullshit. She wagged her pointer. “Did you get in trouble at work?”
That made me chuckle. “No, sweetheart, I didn’t get in trouble at work.”
“So why aren’t you smiling?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was just thinking about something.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. But maybe you should call Billie.”
“Why would I call Billie?”
Saylor shrugged. “Because you always smile when you’re around her.”
God, this kid doesn’t miss a thing. I lifted her up and set her back in the bathtub so I could rinse her hair. “You know who else makes me smile?”
“Who?”
I swiped my finger through her hair, grabbing a dollop of suds, and tapped them onto her nose. “You.”
She smiled, and I felt it in my chest. There wasn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do to keep my little girl happy. I needed to remember she was the reason I had to get through this shit with Maya.
After Saylor’s bath, I read her a story and tucked her into bed. As I walked out of her room, I heard my phone buzzing from the kitchen counter. I frowned as I read the name flashing. Adam. My immigration lawyer. I took a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”
“Hi, Colby, it’s Adam Altman. Sorry to call so late, but I just spoke to Xavier Hess, Maya’s attorney.”
“Oh?”
“Did things not go well this afternoon?”
I sighed. “It was a shitshow. Apparently the officer had been coming back from his break at the same time I arrived at the building, and he saw me walk up to Maya. He noticed my frosty greeting, and that put him on the offensive from the minute we started. Then I was wrong about which hand she wrote with, and things went downhill from there.”
“Well, Xavier claims he’s friendly with a clerk in the office you went to, and your file was marked for a Stokes hearing after you left.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a second interview that takes place when the officer suspects the marriage is fraudulent.”
“Shit. How screwed am I?”
“Well, it’s not good. But it’s essentially a second chance for you two to prove you have a real marriage. So you can get this back on track. Though a Stokes hearing is way harder than whatever you went through today. You and Maya will be interviewed separately and recorded. The officer will then compare the videoed answers for any discrepancies. And these interviews are notoriously long and detailed, sometimes running up to eight hours.”
I dragged a hand through my hair. “I was soaked with sweat after five minutes today. How the hell am I going to handle eight hours of interrogation?”
“It’s not easy. But if it’s any consolation, I can attend this one with you, if you’d like, and I should also represent Maya so we present with a united front.”
Nothing could console me at the moment. “When will this all take place?”
“We’ll have to wait until we get the formal notice in the mail to find out the date. But usually it’s a few weeks after the letter arrives.”
“Great.” I sighed.
“I should probably also warn you, this particular officer has been known to make unannounced house calls bright and early in the morning and late at night. He also likes to stop by people’s jobs to speak to coworkers.”
“What? How can he do that?”
“It’s an investigation. He has a lot of leeway.”
“What am I supposed to do if he shows up here?”
“Let’s just take this step by step. That doesn’t usually happen until the officer sees how things go at the Stokes hearing. I only wanted to give you a heads up about what might happen down the road. Try to hold off on the panic. Nothing is even official yet.”
I was long past panic. But what could I do about it? Nothing. So I shook my head. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”
“I’m sorry I’m not calling with better news, Colby. But these things can get back on track. I’ve had cases go to a Stokes hearing, and then subsequently a green card is issued. It’s not over yet.”
No? Then why does it feel like someone just nailed my coffin shut?
Fifteen minutes later, I was pouring my second glass of whiskey when there was a knock at the door. I froze, thinking it was Officer Weber, before realizing it was probably only Billie. She’d said she was coming over tonight after her last appointment.
This was the first time since I’d walked into her tattoo shop to introduce myself as her landlord that I really didn’t want to see her. I’d let us down today, and I dreaded hurting her any more than I already had. But it was obviously too late to cancel, so I walked to the door and tried to put on my best face to greet her.
Though she was apparently as perceptive as my daughter. Billie took one look at me, and the smile fell from her face. “Shit. What happened?”
