Author's Note:

This POV from Ana is going to be part 1 of 2. Her scenes are too long to cram into one chapter, and I wanted to be able to do her justice as much as possible. Thanks for all those that have reviewed, hope the update wasn't too long in coming.

Masks

Butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach as the plane lands, but I am careful not to let it show. I put on my mask, and let myself pretend, for survival. I am here, visiting my boyfriend. He will take me to dance, at nightclubs, he will take me to a nice dinner, and I will order whatever I want from the menu. I do not think about what I know about Alvaro now; and no, I cannot decide if I should confront him. Dios! It is not a thing one can just blurt out. 'You are undercover cop, no? Oh, and how is su familia? How about the weather? Bueno?' I will not think about it, not yet.

I unbuckle my seatbelt. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, and I have taken mine many a time, so I know it well. I take my luggage, only take what you can carry on, we are warned. I see Delia, and her presence is a comfort, a reminder I am not alone. She sees me as well, and we exchange a smile, carrying the same secret, the same burden. Why is she here? Like most of us, probably for her family.

Luggage rolls by, a familiar sight. I put on my jacket, letting my eyes shift around, but keep my expression calm. I am someone who has nothing to hide, I remind myself. I am on vaction to see mi amor, the drug dogs sniffing at me mean nothing, the security guards are just more people around me. Delia passes without trouble, and I feel happy. This is her first run, and she is so scared. She's a nice lady, quick to smile, with a kind word for everyone, even those who would not return it.

A custom cop gestures for me, and I pick up the luggage I have set at my feet, and walk over. I make sure to smile, make my voice light. "Hello."

"Where are you from?" He has asked this question many times, I can tell from his tone. I am just another face, another set of numbers on a passport. In a moment, mine will blur into all the others.

"Medellin, Colombia."

He takes the passport, eyes it cynically, a look he must wear often. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting my boyfriend." When I answer, it is Alvaro's face I see in my mind. There is no harm in this, dreams, even the impossible ones, are more precious than silver or gold, though Ramiro would not likely agree.

"Third time in the last year," he comments, not asking for the reason, but demanding it without words.

"He misses me." Did Alvaro miss me? It is silly to think on this, but it is good I think of something. I know that I missed him, even more after his phone gave me the truth.

"Is this all your luggage?" the man asks. I say yes. Now for the question that will decide all. "Are you carrying any drugs?"

"No." It is not a lie, because I am someone else. I keep my eyes on his. This is very important.

"Welcome to the United States." I take back my passport, and again make sure to smile. A wave of excitement passes through my whole body, and I feel as though I can almost fly on it. A sense of anticipation couples with it, because I will be seeing Alvaro, and it is a heady mix. Ay! I am behaving like my sister Sophia, who has made infatuation a sport, as much as soccer, and she is skilled. Good thing I am there to keep her feet on the ground, or she would be in confession day and night.

These feelings are foreign to me. I have never been one to have my head turned. Marriage and a house full of babies has never been the path I wish to travel. I think of the magazine picture in my pocket, and feel a longing so acute, it hurts inside. This dream is one I can touch.

I come down the esclator, and my heart beats faster when I see him. ¡Chica insensata! I am being senseless, but can help it no more than I can help being Ana. The mind cannot control the heart, and this is fine, as long as the heart does not control the mind.

With his greeting, he gives me a gift of flowers. Only my papi has ever given me such, and I do not think that counts so much. "Hola!" I cannot keep my joy hidden, my mask is put aside for the moment, and I examine the flowers. Ay, que bonita!

I am startled when he grips my chin. For a second, I think perhaps I have something on my face, and he is going to brush it away. He is giving me a look, one I don't understand. He has never looked at me that way before. Then he leans in, and kisses me. His lips carry fire. Then, when it's over, he breaks into a smile, and I tell myself that I am alone in how I felt.

The way he caresses my cheek makes me want to shiver. He tells me I look good. He is sweet, but I know this has to be a lie. "Mentirosa. No, I don't."

"Come on, let's hit the road." He picks up my luggage, and we leave. I tell him of Sophia, and her 'love' for one of her teachers. She claims she is dying of love, and I told her it must be a very slow way to die, because she looks perfectly healthy to me. Alvaro thinks this is very funny, although I did not really mean it to be. Still, I laugh too, because his laugh is contagious.

When he starts the car, and begins to drive away from the airport, he does so as though he's...hmmm, what is the saying...'bat out of hell?' I know he likes to drive this way, the fact that he could give someone failure of the heart is just amusement, I suppose. Too bad for him I like it, so I suppose I am spoiling his fun by not saying a Hail Mary?

I cradle my flowers. "You never brought flowers before."

"Well there was a lady selling them outside." No big thing to him. How could he have understood what this meant to me? I do not even understand.

"Never kissed me before either." I do not like to think he was using me to punish someone else, or prove point.

"Just making it look good." He does not have trouble answering, and does it well. Ah, a smooth one, are you not, Alvaro?

He reaches out for my passport. "You must be fighting with your real girlfriend." I try not to look hurt, because I should not be hurt. I tell myself it is because I am no man's tool, at least, not without getting paid a thousand dollars I am not. I hand it to him.

"What makes you say that?" He laughs through the question. As if he has reason to wonder!

"I'm right, yeah?"

"Eh, she wants a wedding date. I don't know what the rush is." When he speaks, he does not sound so happy, the way a groom should. He loves her, no? I can tell this when he talks about her. He is young, si, but good marriages have been made younger. Santa Maria, he is no longer a boy. He should not act like one.

"You should be happy you have someone, Alvaro," I tell him truthfully. Someone you can love, and will return that in full measure.

"I just don't see doing that till I want kids." Does she know that?

"When's that?"

"40 maybe." Then he smiles, and as handsome as it makes him, even with all that charm that comes so easily, he's loco if he thinks any girl would wait that long.

"You're like my sister, Sophia," I scold him, tapping my fist on his arm. "We call her la princesa because she wants everything."

"Asi." Ay, he has no shame! I make a face at him, and try not to laugh. Counting him as hopeless, I take out my picture. I will be facing Ramiro soon, and I need my courage. "What's that?" he asks.

"It's what I want. Get a job for a big company on the Bigota. Work by a window with a nice view, flowers on my desk." This is the first time I have dared to say it aloud, as if the words would take it from my reach.

"Bet you can make that happen," he tells me. He believes in me, and knowing that gives me that courage I was searching for. If only...if only we had met in a different time, a different way, a different place. It is too bad that wishes are like pennies. They are shiny, but do not get much. "So, you're going to stop this work?"

"I'm telling Ramiro tonight." The thought twists my stomach into knots, but I will not let fear stop me, no more than I let fear stop me from doing this work. Also, I have my courage now.

"You know he won't let you go easy." He has worry, I can tell, for me.

"I know." I am no child.

A minute later, Alvaro passes a driver, the lights of the city a blur. Much faster, and we would fly. Is that what Alvaro wants? To fly? Is that why he took this...this job? Does he crave danger, the excitement? Maybe it gives him wings.

"You drive fast." That much is obvious, but I wished to break the silence.

"It's the only speed I know."

"You like the rush," I speculate, not just meaning on the road.

"Don't you?" he asks, maybe to take the focus off him.

"Nah," I answer automatically, and he scoffs at me. "What?"

"Come on," he says cynically. I raise an eyebrow, curious as to why he is so quick not to believe my denial, knowing it is only matter of time before he tells me. I have never met a man who is shy of talking when he thinks he is right. Of course, I have not met many men. "When you're lying to the ball-buster Customs cop, all those drug dogs are sniffing at you, and then he finally waves you on through...how do you feel?"

I could lie, but if he is what I think he is, what he must be, it would be a waste of time. Besides, my face betrays me. When I am embarrassed, I never blush, I smile and laugh. "Great," I admit. What does that say about me?

"Ah!" He likes being right, I can tell. He sounds so pleased with himself.

"Yeah, it feels great," I give him his due, but I feel embarrassed at being caught.

"'Cause it's a rush, right? That's what I'm talking about." The way he says it, it makes me feel better, as though he knows my shame in this, and is telling me it is all right.

"I pretend I am someone else when I talk to them. Someone who is not scared." Is that what you do, Alvaro? The mask hiding another mask.

"And it works." He does not seem so amused suddenly, but still calm.

"You do the same thing?" I look over at him, wanting to see if his eyes will tell me the truth. He is searching, but trying not to let me see. He wears his masks well. Do they ever weigh heavy on him? I throw mine to the ground. "I took your phone, Alvaro."

Still, he tries to fool me. "I thought I lost it at work." Tentativa muy mala, I think to myself. He could do better, he must. Perhaps, I think with some hope, he does not want to lie to me.

"I saw the names on it. I know who you really are. It makes sense." I want him to understand that I am not angry for this, I am glad. It only makes what I feel...however stupid it is, stronger.

"Ana..." There is fighting inside him, I can see it.

"That you're more than just this...driver." Understand me, please! Don't shut me out. I want to say it but he won't let me have the chance to go on.

"Ana, don't talk about it! I mean it!" His voice is harsh, and I feel as though I want to cry. Not because of the way he spoke, but everything. I am so confused inside, I don't know what is wrong and what is right. I have never felt that before, and that it is new makes it all the worse.

We arrive at the hotel, and I almost beg him to keep driving. Five more minutes...just until I feel myself again, and then I will face Ramiro.

"You ready?" he asks. No! Maybe not five minutes. Maybe we could drive forever, go fast, until we both fly. Maybe he would kiss me again...

And then what? I ask myself miserably. We cannot run, I have lumps of heroin in my gut, and he is bound by what he is as much as me. What about his girlfriend? I have no right to steal what is hers. Some women can cheerfully plant knives in the backs of women, but I am not one. I may want to, but I won't.

"Will you give me your phone number?" I ask the question before I knew I would.

"I can't."

Por supuesto. My mistake. "So this is goodbye then." I am proud, my voice does not crack. I will keep my dignity since one request let me fall on my face, as the saying goes, no?

"It's been good...talking to you." It is a comfort, that he wants me to know this.

It allows me to smile at him. I do not want it to end bad. "Be nice to your girlfriend. She won't wait until you're 40." I say this, perhaps to make up for my earlier temptation, for wanting one last kiss, for wanting it still. Pennies and wishes, I tell myself again.

"Ana." He says my name, and my heart leaps in hope. He looks out the window. ¿Qué. ..? He steals a scrap of my paper, from the flowers, and writes a number. "Only if you're in trouble," he tells me.

I nod in asnwer, trying to assure him. I know this is a huge risk for him. I take the paper, curl my fingers around him. I wish I never had to let go, even if they are only pennies. It is a moment I will treasure forever...even if my forever would not be so long. How could I have know that?