“Hey, listen,” he began. “You know I came across the border illegally too, a long time ago.” He reached out one lined, weathered hand and gently stroked Maria's arm. “Then I brought your mother here a couple years later.”
Maria smiled demurely. She lingered for a moment before pulling her hand away to clear some of the dishes.
“But this immigration system is broken. We all know that.” Juan stopped Maria from taking his plate. He reached for another tortilla.
“Why don’t they deserve the same chance you had?” Sofia asked firmly, but respectfully.
Juan flashed her a brief smile to let her know he appreciated her change of attitude. “Listen mija,” he said gently, “These guys, they’re not moving into the white neighborhoods. They’re coming here, into our neighborhood.”
“That’s why Trump was right to build the wall,” Carlos interjected.
Sofia rolled her eyes again. “You wouldn’t even be here if Papí hadn’t crossed the border!”
Juan held up his hands between them before the argument could escalate again. “Wait, wait.”
Carlos visibly worked to restrain himself. He handed his plate to Maria and said nothing.
“Carlos is right, mija,” Juan continued, directing his gaze at Sofia. “But maybe not for all the reasons you think.”
“What reasons?”
“All these people coming across the border,” Juan’s gaze grew distant, and he seemed to be looking somewhere far away, remembering. “Do you know how dangerous that is? You gotta pay the coyotes and hide from the police. If you get caught, they send you back and you lose everything.”
Sofia took Juan’s hand in her own. “I know it was hard, Papí, but they deserve the chance to be free.”
“No comprendes,” Juan returned from his reverie to stare hard into his daughter’s eyes.
“What don’t I understand?” She asked.
“It was different then, Mija,” the deep creases around Juan’s eyes seemed to grow deeper. “Now they steal from you every time. And all the girls are getting raped. I would never want any of our family in Mexico to try to get here like that now.”
Sofia just stared back at him with a shocked expression on her face.
“Why do you think we’ve been working so hard to get your uncle’s wife into America legally?” Maria asked softly, cleaning up the last of the dishes.
“Three years we've been trying to do it the right way,” Juan grumbled bitterly. “But I would never let any of our family come across the other way. The system is broken.”