Page 1 of More than Paper

Prologue

Fifteen Years Ago

Innocence isat the root of my mistake. Fear is the branch that continues to grow and thrive, keeping me locked into my fallacy.

It’s already been a long day. I’m walking up the stairs to my apartment floor and about to open the door to leave the stairwell when I hear the sobs.

I look behind me, but no one is there.

“It’ll be okay,” a female voice says.

Just go to your apartment and stay out of it.

“My life is over,” she says in her Colombian accent.

Shit, that’s Valeria.

I’m a sucker. I’ve always been. A woman crying is the worst sound on earth for me. Instead of staying out of it, I butt right in.

I walk up the stairs. Sure enough, Valeria and her roommate Mary are there.

“Valeria, what’s wrong?”

Her tear-filled eyes stab me in the heart. “I have to go back to Colombia.”

“What? Why?”

“My student visa ran out, and I haven’t been able to get a job that will get me a work visa.”

“What? Surely there is something you can do.”

“There isn’t. The only way I can stay in the country without marrying a United States citizen is by getting a work visa.” She starts to sob again and puts her head between her knees.

That’s not fair.

Mary rubs her back, helpless.

I sit on the step right below Valeria and realize she’s clutching a piece of paper. “Can I see that?”

Valeria hands me the paper.

It’s from the United States immigration office. I read it, and my heart drops. “This says you need to leave in the next week?”

“I’ve been here since I was fourteen and in high school. I don’t want to go back to Colombia. My father will make me marry one of his men, and I won’t be able to pursue my acting career. I don’t want that life.”

I do the math in my head. “You’ve been here for six years?”

“Yes.”

Six years, and they are making her go back? She’ll be forced into a marriage?

“There has to be something we can do,” I tell her. I’ve known Valeria for the last two years. I moved into this building when I was eighteen. We are part of a group of tenants who get together often for parties, as we are all around the same age.

“There isn’t. My life is over,” she sobs again.

“Maybe we can find someone to marry you,” Mary suggests.

Valeria head snaps. “I just said I don’t want to get married.”

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