Tony was born towards dawn five and a half months later. Despite the midwife's irritation Marco was present at the birth holding Rita's hand as he had promised. Definitely no more children, Almeida. This is terrible. There's no way you can sit through this again! Seeing his baby's face sent the previous thoughts miles away.

'It's a boy,' the midwife told them handing him the baby.

Marco opened his arms and gazed at the tiny bundle in awe barely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing him. 'Hey,' he said softly, running his fingers down the baby's cheek. His magical moment was interrupted by Rita who insisted he hand over the baby at once.

'Sorry, sweetheart,' he apologized, placing the child into her arms. 'I was just looking at him. I've never seen such a cute little thing.'

Rita stroked the baby's hair, muttering sweet nothings to him. She nodded in agreement. 'He's perfect. Look at his little fingers.'

They spent the rest of the day admiring the new arrival, their isolation from family and friends the only blight on their joy. A steady stream of visitors poured into the room to admire the other babies and congratulate their mothers, their arrivals not unnoticed by Rita whose smile gradually faded.

'Hey, querida, don't take it that way,' Marco begged, nodding his head at the sleeping infant. 'Our baby's a hundred percent cuter than theirs. Smarter, too!'

'How could you possibly know that?' she questioned, slightly mollified.

'His eyes sparkle. He's been observing his surroundings. Stands to reason, too, with smart parents like us!'

His words of comfort worked. Rita giggled, placing a finger over his lips. 'Shh. You'll offend the others.'

Marco shrugged, winking at her. Like you care, Almeida! He settled on the edge of the bed, her head resting on his arm. 'We should get some sleep. It was a difficult night!'

Rita giggled again. 'Look who's talking!' she exclaimed. 'What can you plead? Mental trauma?'

'Aha,' he replied, amused. 'I was terrified!'

Their rest was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse who glared at Marco. 'I must ask you to leave, sir. This is rest period! Visitors were told to leave an hour ago!'

Alarmed, he placed a finger over his lips. 'They're both sleeping. Can't I stay?' he pleaded.

His logic failed to convince the nurse, who shook her head in gathering annoyance. 'You may not. You can return in the evening.'

Her words woke Rita who blinked groggily. Marco kissed her cheek, promising to be back in the evening. 'Do you need me to bring you anything?' he whispered.

'Yeah, some more clothes for the baby.'

'You got it,' he agreed, leaving the room reluctantly. Unwilling to abandon them he lingered outside the door a moment. Once again it opened, the nurse wheeling the bassinet. 'Where are you taking my baby? He should be with his mother,' Marco protested, unable to remain silent. The baby flung an arm against the bassinet's side restlessly.

'He's supposed to be in the nursery. Goodbye, sir.'

He watched them, filled with an unexplainable sense of foreboding which refused to leave him until he retraced his steps and followed them to the nursery. The jolting of the bassinet woke the baby who started fussing. The nurse left the bassinet inside and proceeded to check the other infants. Marco tiptoed into the room and lifted his son into his arms.

'Hey, m'ijo, come to Papa,' he whispered, a finger stroking his warm cheek. Come to Papa. The words sounded odd though pleasant. Expertly he laid Tony's head against his shoulder as he paced the corridor describing his home in Mexico. 'I'll take you there someday,' he promised the newborn who had remained alert during his monologue. 'Abuelo and Abuela are going to be SO pleased to see you.'

The indignant nurse grabbed him as he completed his hundredth tour of the corridor. 'Sir, the baby MUST return to the nursery,' she snapped. 'It's unsafe for him out here, there could be germs!'

You could have germs too, he thought annoyed as she removed Tony. Having little else to do he returned to their apartment and opened the drawer they had assigned the baby, piling a handful of clean clothes into a shopping bag. Once that task was completed he glanced at his watch determined to fill the remaining hours till his permitted visit constructively. He tidied the bedroom, washed all the dishes, emptied the bin, bleached the shower and mopped the kitchen before he settled to a well deserved coffee. Sipping the bitter brew reminded him of his best friend and he picked up the phone, dialing him.

Tim arrived half an hour later laden with gifts. 'Congratulations,' he said grinning, handing Marco a bottle of tequila. 'I got this for you – I'm sure you like it. Wait till you see what I got the baby!' He handed the surprised Marco a baseball mitt, bat and ball. 'I also got a miniature Cubs t-shirt,' he said proudly.

'Tim, he's just a baby,' Marco protested, laying the gifts in the crib. 'Thanks,' he added awkwardly, glancing at his friend. 'Would you like a beer?'

'I was hoping you'd open the tequila,' Tim suggested mischievously. 'When can I see them?'

'You can visit this evening, if you're sure you wanna,' Marco told him, hunting in vain for a wine glass. 'Is it okay if I give you an ordinary glass?' he asked with an embarrassed shrug.

Tim nodded. 'Whatever you got. It's the drink that counts. Sure I wanna see them. Here's to the future Cubs player!'

Marco blinked, draining his glass. 'He might not like the game,' he suggested.

'Sure he will,' Tim protested. 'He's American, isn't he? And speaking of that, I'm gonna overstep myself here and ask how's your Green Card coming? You got it yet?'

Marco twirled the remaining tequila in his glass and shook his head. 'I handed the application in 5 months ago,' he sighed. 'Haven't heard back yet. I guess they got plenty of applicants.'

'You should've heard something by now,' Tim decided, shaking his head. 'You're not supposed to work more than a coupla hours without it. How do you manage?'

Marco rose and paced the room, his eyes on the floor. 'You don't wanna know that, my friend.' A moment later he paused and glanced at his only friend, shrugging apologetically. 'We gotta live from something too.'

'Sure you do,' Tim agreed. 'I'd start bothering them to hurry it along. You got a kid now.'

Marco nodded, taking the bottle. 'Would you like some more?'

Tim shook his head. 'Better not. I wanna give Rita her present while I'm sober. The best man can't show up drunk!'

They laughed together, recalling Marco's hesitant approach of his friend to invite him to his wedding. Tim had agreed readily enough, leaning on his bat, an eye on the game as he waited to be called. 'Sure I will. When is it?'

'Tonight,' Marco told him, eyes on the ground.

'Tonight!' his friend echoed, startled into forgetting the score. 'What's the hurry? Anyone would think you got a kid on the way.' Narrowing his eyes he watched his friend turn crimson and scuff his shoe in the grass. 'You DO have a kid on the way! Gee Marco, what can I say? Sure I'll come, I'd be glad to!'

They were deep into reminiscing about their first year at college when a knock at the door interrupted them. Marco sighed as he got up to answer it, shrugging at Tim's raised eyebrow. Now what? I really haven't got any money to donate to any cause!

A burly official held up a card for the briefest second before pushing past him to enter the tiny living room, followed by two colleagues. 'Immigration and Naturalization Services,' he said, the words echoing in Marco's brain.

Tim rose, his fingers tightening round his glass. 'What do you need?' he inquired, moving to join his friend.

'Marco Almeida, you've failed to keep to the stipulations registered on your student visa. I'm going to have to ask you to accompany us.'

Marco gazed at them in shock. 'In what way have I offended you?' he asked, the sweat trickling down his forehead.

'That's better discussed elsewhere. Let's go,' the official repeated.

'That's not good enough,' Tim interrupted. 'He's not going anywhere until you give him an explanation. He's here on a student visa and he's a student. What's wrong with that?'

'Under the terms of your visa you're required to be enrolled full-time,' the official replied in a monotonous tone.

'But sir, I changed my enrolment five months ago,' Marco protested. 'Why didn't you let me know immediately that you won't permit that? I would have changed back.' He gazed at the relentless official in despair.

'I haven't the time to argue with you, sir. Now either you accompany us voluntarily or I'll arrest you, it's your choice.'

The world spun around him as he took in the tiny apartment, his eyes resting on the empty crib through the bedroom door. 'Sir, my baby was born this morning,' he pleaded. 'Please let me sort out my visa from here. I'm not gonna run.'

The official glared at him. 'For the last time, let's move.'

Marco bowed his head, chewing his lip. 'Just lemme try and call my wife to let her know…'

A hand grabbed his elbow, propelling him to the door. 'You'll get an opportunity to call her later. Move it!'

'Tim,' he said, turning to glance at his speechless friend. 'Take that bag of stuff to Rita, she asked for it. Tell her I'll call her whenever…..whenever I get a chance. And tell her I love her,' he begged, blinking at what he had a sneaking suspicion was his final sight of the apartment.

'You got it,' Tim agreed. 'What you're doing is unnecessary,' he argued, following the group downstairs. 'This guy's got a wife and a kid and…'

'You got anymore to say?' snapped the official, turning to glare at him. 'Leave now before I call the police and have you detained for obstructing a government employee!'

'I'll go see Rita now,' Tim promised as Marco was pushed into a car. 'I'm real sorry, Marco. Don't worry, we'll sort it out.'

I hope so. Hot tears blinded him as he was driven away.

Tim's heart clenched as he approached the bed, his eyes on Rita. She smiled a greeting at him, her face slightly worn. 'Hi,' she said proudly. 'Come see the baby.'

Avoiding her eyes he handed her a bouquet, bending over the bassinet to examine the newborn. 'He's real cute,' he observed quietly. His markedly different demeanor puzzled her as he shifted awkwardly beside her bed.

'What's in the bag?' she asked, longing to put him at ease.

To her amazement he turned crimson, pushing it over to her. 'Marco asked me to bring it,' he muttered, clearing his throat.

Rita glanced at the baby clothes rapidly before nodding her head at the chair. 'What's going on, Tim? You can tell me, I can handle it. I'm not sick you know. Where's Marco?'

Tim shook his head sadly. 'Rita, I'm real sorry to have to tell you this today, right after the baby came.' He nodded his head at Tony, who chose that moment to stir. 'INS came to the apartment. They're deporting Marco.'

'What?' she stammered, taking a few minutes to absorb the new development. 'Why? What did he do?'

Tim repeated what he had heard, watching her pale face darken and her eyes flash. 'What's their problem? Marco completed the first three years of his degree full time. He just changed this year. Why didn't they let him know sooner if they didn't allow it? Why do they care now, why today?' Tears of rage filled her eyes. 'They're not taking him anywhere!' She pushed the blankets aside, struggling to her feet. 'Watch the baby for me would you?'

'Rita,' Tim gasped, grabbing her arm. 'You're supposed to rest. Look, you don't know where they took Marco. Where would you go? Why don't I get you a phone and you can make some inquiries. I don't know anything about babies,' he added, noting her shoulders slump in defeat.

'This baby needs a father,' she sniffed, crawling back into bed. 'Bring the phone quick, Tim.' She withdrew the baby while she waited, pressing him into her arms. 'We'll get him back,' she whispered reassuringly to the restless infant. 'I promise we'll get him back, sweetheart. We're gonna be fine.'

An hour later she lay against the pillows, defeated. Miguel, after a great deal of arguing had looked into the case, informing her that someone had tipped off the department, accusing Marco of marrying an American solely for the purpose of remaining in the country. She pressed her point in vain. Marco had practically finished his degree; they had gotten married in a hurry to do so before the birth of the child and had met with no obstructions. Who had slandered them? Miguel had insisted he was unable to divulge that piece of information. 'So they got the right to lie about us and we don't have the right to know who it was or what they said?' she hissed, disbelievingly. 'Miguel, I wanna know this minute. I'm going over there to kill…'

'That's exactly why I can't let you know, sis,' he said gently. 'You don't wanna kill her, trust me.'

'Her,' Rita echoed, a horrible suspicion forming. 'It was mom, right? You don't need to tell me, I already know. She swore she'd make sure he was chased from this country. What's her problem? Why can't she leave me in peace? What's she got to prove?' Her words were drowned by her sobs. 'Get him back for me, Miguel.'

Miguel sounded regretful as he explained that due to the complaint Marco had lost his student visa and was now placed in a line for spouse reunions, which took a considerable length of time to process, especially as his case was now clouded in suspicion.

'What the hell do you want from me?' she yelled at her mother, hatred making her arms shake as she held the phone to her ear. 'You had me disinherited like a criminal! I lost all my family and friends. I live in a crappy place. You can guess how we struggle for every dollar but no, that wasn't enough for you. You just can't watch us cope without you! Why did you pick today, mom? It's too weird to be a coincidence.'

'Divorce the Mexican, put the child up for adoption and it'll all stop,' Catalina told her coldly, unperturbed by her fury. 'You'll come home and we'll search for a more suitable husband…'

'Guess what, mom. That's NEVER going to happen,' Rita snapped. 'We'll do just fine, whatever sick tricks you pull.' Slamming the receiver down she picked up the terrified baby, soothing him. 'It's gonna be okay, sweetheart,' she repeated, stroking his hair as she gave way to tears. "It's gonna be fine!" Marco's boss is behind in his payments. We got enough cash to pay the rent another two weeks and enough for a little food. After that...

Marco paced the room unable to settle onto his bed. People slept around him in bunks while he gazed at the moon through a barred window, his heart in turmoil. Worry for Rita kept him awake as he mentally counted out the amount of cash he had in his drawer at home, reaching the gut wrenching conclusion that should his boss fail to hand her his previous two months' pay she would have nothing by the end of the month. She would be left without shelter and a tiny baby to care for. He prayed for her safety repeatedly as the eternal night crept by. They came for him shortly after breakfast. His pleas to use the phone to call his wife were ignored as he was marshaled onto a bus. Marco barely noticed his fellow passengers as he gazed out of the window, nose pressed against the glass, swallowing his tears. They reached Laredo shortly after midnight on the second day of travel, where a customs official stamped his passport. The Border Patrol official glared at the entire group once their paperwork was completed.

'You're welcome to lodge any applications at the nearest U.S. consulate,' he informed them coldly. 'Until such time as you receive legal paperwork, don't attempt to return to this country!'

The journey to the Mexican customs post was the slowest he had ever undertaken. A disinterested official stamped his passport and waved him through. With nothing but the clothes he wore and three dollars in his pocket Marco wandered the town of Nuevo Laredo, stretching out on a bench to await the sunrise. Sheer discomfort kept him awake and he changed his dollars to pesos the moment the bank opened. He raced across the street to a phone booth and attempted to call Rita but the hospital insisted she had been discharged while a mechanical voice informed him his home number had been disconnected. Oh God. Adams hasn't paid her my wages and she's struggling.

Unable to call his parents as they lacked a phone he devoted the morning to the task of filling in a pile of forms at the U.S. Consulate, none of which could be lodged without supporting paperwork. In despair he called Tim, begging him to let her know he was safe in Mexico and to ask her to send his birth certificate and college results to his parents' address as he was unable to hand in any forms without them. After purchasing a loaf of bread and a school bag, into which he stuffed the completed forms he had enough to buy himself a bus ticket as far as Esmeralda.

The bus proved hot and uncomfortable, an assortment of people crammed in beside him. Heart numb he was unable to feel his usual joy at the idea of being at home, aware he had lost all he held dear. Each turn of the wheel took him further from Rita and the baby he had seen for a mere handful of hours. Lacking any further money he was forced to complete the final 500 miles to his parents' house on foot. Worn out both physically and mentally he set out in the evening with the remaining half of his loaf and a bottle of water, curling up a few feet from the highway around 3:00 A.M.

Thirst woke him the morning of the following day. He ran his fingers through his hair and returned to the highway, determined to reach his home as soon as possible to collect the paperwork he hoped awaited him. Cars raced past coating him in dust as he trudged along filled with bitterness against the person who had succeeded in ruining not only his life but his family's with it.

In despair he called Tim, begging him to let Rita know he would be home in the next few days. Face pressed against the phone booth he listened to an update on her health, cheering slightly to hear she appeared fine. As the sun sank behind some buildings he set off further along the highway, heading home.

Rita took a handful of copies of Marco's paperwork before sending it registered. The baby lay in the stroller observing events with large round eyes unusually well behaved, the activity at the busy post office occupying him while his mother finished. 'We're done, sweetheart,' she told him, explaining all her actions, a habit she had formed since the dismal news had reached her. 'We've sent Papa his papers. Now he'll be able to get his visa and he'll come back to us.'

Tony opened his mouth to howl as they left the post office emerging into an icy wind. Rita's attempts to tuck his blankets round him failed to cheer him. 'It's okay, sweetie, we're going home,' she said tiredly, struggling to get the stroller onto the bus. Home indeed, Rita! Not for much longer, the way things are going. She hugged him to her as she recalled hours of lying on the empty bed weeping after he fell asleep.

The apartment appeared drab and airless as she laid the handful of necessary items she had purchased into the fridge, an eye on the baby who slept peacefully in his crib, fingers in his mouth. You need a name, sweetie. She gave up on the idea of a warm tea, opting to lie onto the empty bed and shut her eyes instead. The dozen boy names she had planned appeared inadequate as she considered her tiny child. You look like your father, sweetheart. Should I name you after him? 'Marco' she said softly, staring at the sleeping child. No, it's not right. It's admitting defeat, and you're not defeated yet. He's coming back! The desire to give the baby a little of his father's identity persisted. She shut her eyes, recalling the time she had seized his passport before their trip to the taxation department.

"Marco Tomas Antonio Almeida," she read. "My father is Tomas, and my eldest brother was Antonio. He got a fever when he was a baby and died…My parents say I look exactly like him. Mama wanted to name me Antonio but Papa said it was bad luck."

Rita rolled over and laid the sleeping infant beside her. 'Tony,' she said quietly studying his face. The name suited him, she decided. 'Tony,' she said again, louder and the baby stirred. She settled him in the crook of her arm, drew the blanket over them and fell asleep worn out from the relentless worry.

Marco pushed his parents' door open and tiptoed inside. Voices drifted over to him from upstairs. Weary beyond words, he sank onto the nearest chair and shut his eyes resting his head comfortably against the soft surface. A horrified gasp woke him moment later.

'M'ijo, what are you doing here? What's wrong?' his father cried.

He forced his eyes open, taking in the shabby appearance the previous four days on the road had stamped on him, from his dusty t-shirt to his torn jeans, all the way to his blistered bare feet. Exhausted eyes met his father's.

'I'll start the bath,' his mother whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek. 'M'ijo, you look awful. Thank God you're home!' She hugged him, wiping her tears away.

He explained the dismal events as best he was able as he picked through his dinner, wanting only to curl up in bed and sleep for the rest of his life. You done great, Almeida! You wasted three and half years, you got no job, no degree, no hope of getting anything…The money you left Rita is gonna run out real soon…A tear slid into his soup, noticed by both parents.

'M'ijo…'

'I gotta go back tomorrow,' he decided. 'Rita's going to need money. I'll hand these applications in now that I've got everything and I'll go. I might be able to get some more hours tracing or find some agricultural work…'

'Listen to me carefully Marco,' his father interrupted, laying down his fork. 'If you go back now, illegally, and they catch you, you'll be in real trouble! Wait till your application is approved. In the meantime, why don't we send Rita a ticket to come join us? We got enough food for two more.'

Marco choked back his tears, gazing from one to the other.

'He's right, m'ijo,' his mother agreed. 'It'll only be for a short while, till your paperwork is done. And we're both real keen to meet her.'

'And the baby,' his father added, eyeing him.

'You're not mad, Papa?' he inquired, a little calmer at the thought of being reunited with them in the next few weeks.

'About my newest grandson - no. About his early arrival….We'll discuss that tomorrow.' His stern tone failed to intimidate Marco who nodded humbly.

'Gracias,' he told them, hugging them goodnight as he forced himself upstairs and into his warm bed.