From Dusk Till Dawn

Chapter 13:Stubborn Lovers-Joseph's Pov

Before we know it, my confused family and I are packed onto a bleak looking bus. Just as we climbed onto the silent transport, the metal creaked under our feet. Ma clutches George and my hand tightly as we take off through the sunset lit sky. The two detectives appear to not have joined us to an unknown imprisonment.

"Where do you think we're going?" A woman mumbles in Italian to her husband. He answers her with a shush.

An eerie feeling is present as barely a single word is said in the ten minutes we've been on the bus.

All of a sudden the bus hits a bump in the road causing a few women to screech. I allow my eyes to scan and inspect my surroundings trying to make sense of the here and now. There are at least thirty Italians on the bus with us. After twenty minutes we reach the outskirts of New York City. A place I've never ventured so far out before.

A few men in the U.S. Military Uniforms sit silently with pistols in their grasp. This is nowhere revilantly close to any picture I've seen before.

Pa and ma have begun mingling around asking if they knew what was happening. As I suspected, they were all told that they were criminals, just as we were.

Listening in on Ma's conversation with a few nearby strangers, I noted that the vast majority of us were not legal citizens of the United States. They were now calling us Illegal Aliens. Was that the real reason we were all being arrested? But did they have a similar story to the one the two detectives told me?

It didn't fit together. The whole world felt like glass and someone had purposely beat us to pieces with a wooden bat.

For now my theory for us all being together is that we were all born in Italy.

Turning my head to look out the opposite window of the bus, my eyes catch a young, crying girl sitting across from me and Geroge. The fragile child couldn't be older than six years old. My heart hurts with the thought of a child younger than George headed off to God knows where.

Her brown, walnut shaped eyes lock with mine, her crying paused. "What's your name?" I ask her in a calm voice. She tilts her head in confusion. I translate what I said to her in Italian. She appears new to the country and unfamiliar with English.

"Viola." She sniffles. Her pa comforts her distraught ma from the row behind her. Viola sits alone with her legs dangling off the hard chair. Her legs aren't long enough to reach the floor yet.

"Hi Viola." George waves to the little girl. Her curly hair is a mess in her face and appears almost tangled.

"What's your name?" Her voice comes out in almost a hush.

"Joseph and this here is my baby brother George." George butts me annoyed for calling him a baby. I notice a single tear run down her cheek.

"Want to see some pictures?" I ask her, trying to ease both of our fears. She nods silently at me. Taking my sketchbook out of my satchel, I begin showing her the building and house ideas that I've drawn.

I let the child hold my notebook so she can look through the pages at her own pace. It seems to calm her and halt her tears.

"You're going to be a good papa someday." Ma turns around in her seat, grabbing my hand. She sits in front of Geroge and I next to a middle aged woman. I look away knowing all too well that I don't wish to have kids. She can have pa to thank for that.

"You as well George." Geroge takes hold of her other hand. "Thank you ma." There's some light in the bus but it's not much as we travel past a small town.

The sky is now a beautiful pink and orange sunset and I almost wished I brought my oil paints.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Viola smiles down at the sketch. My eyes extend when I see that she's looking at the picture I drew of Louise. "She's just a friend of mine." I tell her.