The Fictional Fantasy of Willow Street

Written by Teddy Bahnck, 6th Grade

When I was little, perhaps eight years old, I was sent to Texas by plane, alone. My parents right outside Mexico City were poor and could not afford to feed both my little sister, five at the time, and I on the dull farm. They believed that it was for the best of us, to keep away from the dangers of starvation. It has been five years since then. At first, we struggled with food and finding our way around town. We lived on the streets, as we were practically abandoned. There was no one that was focused on our wellbeing, as far as we know. Which left us alone. We struggled day and night to just find a place to sleep and finding a shelter during a downpour. I took care of Isabella the best I could. Which left little to no time to take care of myself the best I could. We were so famished that we scrambled through trash cans for food. Sometimes we even knocked on doors, pleading for help.

That’s how the first few months went. It was hard to believe that we survived; we were on our last limbs. That’s until we met Mr. Miguel. His kindness had me taken aback. Isabella didn’t understand the concept of kindness back then, to her, the world was unicorns and rainbows. Mr. Miguel noticed our struggle and helplessness and offered to take us in. I was skeptical at first, but then I realized that this could be the offering of a lifetime. I accepted his offering after explaining to Isabella what this meant. She was just as ecstatic as I was.

We’ve lived with Mr. and Mrs. Miguel for what seems like forever, now. We feel like we’re family. But I’ve only been able to imagine what my real family is doing. Are mama and papa okay? Are they even still alive? It’s been my “fictional fantasy” for quite some time now to just see them in person. It’s been five years since, and I don’t even think they will even recognize us? Isabella hardly remembers what they look and sound like. I have been trying to block them from my mind, because I always get upset. A whole tornado of emotions. As Mr. Miguel would sometimes tease me to make me feel a bit better, “you don’t want to see Diego in his category five hurricane state.” It did make me laugh, then we would poke fun at each other.

Unfortunately, the Miguels could not afford to send us to school. But we didn’t find this horrible, as they often taught us themselves. I learned long division and how computers worked, while Isabella learned addition and gardening. They would teach us anything we wanted to learn. We’re treated as if we’re their own children. While Mama and Papa don’t even know if we’re alive or not.

I still remember their landline number. Their expressions. Their personalities. But do they remember a thing about me? For the past few months, I’ve been determined to find the answer. I’ve been trying to pull the fantasy of mine into reality and out of the depths of my imagination. My mind has been whirling with ideas from left and right. Call their landline with my cheap prepaid phone. Visit the police station downtown and locate them. Of course, all of these vast ideas are unlikely. But surely it’s worth a shot? I’ve brought these ideas up with Mr. Miguel plenty of times, but he believes it’s unnecessary and might just stir more trouble. That’s about the only thing that we disagree on. He understands me greatly, but he does have that inner father.

 

Today, however, is different. It’s November first, the Day of the Dead. Everyone in the house celebrates it - Isabella, Mr. and Mrs. Miguel, and I. The Miguels are Spanish just like us, which is a coincidence. Over the past few days, we’ve decorated the small cottage left and right with candles, skulls, skeletons, and garlands. Today, Mr. Miguel invited his and Mrs. Miguel’s family to our house. I was slightly sentimental at the fact that I couldn’t invite my parents. They would’ve had an excellent time. We held a huge feast, we danced, and we welcomed the spirits of the deceased back home. The sound of trumpets, violins, guitars, and harps could be heard from afar. The sweet taste of sugar skulls filled my tongue. 

After the big day, I passed out. I dreamt of my parents. Mama’s strong but sweet perfume. Papa’s tough, scratchy voice. I considered this as a nightmare. My mind was rubbing in the fact that I barely know them now. Are they still alive? I don’t know. Do they still remember you and Isabella? I don’t know. I woke up at 6 in the morning with a smirk on my face. It’s time.

“Mr. Miguel, I need to see my parents. Or at least know that they are still on this planet. I beg,” I pleaded.

His gaze into my eyes did not reveal his thoughts. “Okay, but, how are you going to take on this expedition?”

“I… I don’t quite know. Yet,” I stammered.

“I predicted this was approaching closer and closer. Diego, I want to help you. But I can’t if you are doing this out of spite.”

“I’m not, I swear. Please, Mr. Miguel? We can take it step by step. Visit the police station first. Anything, really.”

“I suppose we can try. But, you promise that if they cannot help us, you will be okay?” He answered wearily.

I sighed. “Yes, I promise.” I really hoped that this wasn’t a dead end. I was desperate. 

We were only in the eye of the hurricane before. This is the eyewall.

We pulled up to the police station with an uneasy feeling. We were both ecstatic at the fact that we might locate my parents at last, but nervous that we could just be getting our hopes up. “Alright. Let’s wish for the best,” Mr. Miguel said as we walked in.

“Salutations, how may I help the two of you?” The administrator at the front desk greeted us awkwardly with a wide grin that looked fake.

I looked up at Mr. Miguel to signal that he should do the talking. “We have, err, quite an unusual request. Diego, you could probably explain better than I can.”

The clerk looked at me with round eyes. My palms began to sweat. “When I was, uhm, little, my parents in Mexico City left me here because they could not afford to keep me with them anymore. I, err, was wondering if… you could help me find them again? Please. It has been five years. Five years too long,” I pleaded. I stayed vague, I did not think that this administrator needed to know my whole life story.

“Well, that’s-”

“I am desperate. Please.” I cut her off. I refused to take no as an answer. “Just try.”

“A-alright,” she trembled, shocked at my confidence. “We can try.”

“Thank you, thank you. Here’s my phone number, call me if you need or find anything.” Mr. Miguel said. He had a dismissive tone in his voice. I caught on early that that means he’s ready to go. It’s quite obvious he doesn’t have high hopes, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that reveals that his only wish is for me to find my real parents.

On the car ride “home,” it was clear he was fighting tears. I’ve always known that he wishes he and Mrs. Miguel were my real parents. We arrived back at the small cottage at the sight of Isabella and Mrs. Miguel watering the garden. Mrs. Miguel walked over towards us. “How did it go, Antonio?” She asked.

“It went well. There was no conflict. I believe that there could be a real spark of hope that their parents could be located,” he answered. I wasn’t quite sure if he really meant that.

Isabella noticed the discussion and sprinted down the slope towards us. “Will we find Mama and Papa?” She questioned me. 

“We’re trying,” I answered with a slight frown. “There is hope.”

 

The next two weeks were quiet. We were anticipating the phone call that would reveal whether or not I would ever see my parents again. It was torture. Especially for Isabella, who kept asking. Each time she asked, our hope drained.

“Diego, when will we find Mama and Papa?” Isabella asked with an exhausted expression. “I thought the police were going to call us back.” Her eyes clouded with disappointment and frustration.

“I don’t know, Isabella. I’m sorry-” I was cut off by a sudden ringing. It was coming from Mr. Miguel’s pocket. He took out his phone. We all peered over his shoulder to see who was calling. It was an unknown number.

“Hello?” Mr. Miguel answered. He put the call on speaker phone.

“Good afternoon. I am with the police department, calling to inform you about the inquiry with locating Camilla and David Perez.” As I heard this, my heart skipped a beat. It was obvious that everyone else’s had too.

“Alright. Go on.” Mr. Miguel’s palms began to sweat.

“I have both good and bad news. First, the good news, we have located both of them and they are safe and healthy. But, the bad news, if you want them to travel here or you want to travel to them, the expenses will not be covered.” My jaw dropped. Isabella gasped. Mrs. Miguel smiled. Mr. Miguel held back tears.

“Thank you very much. We will stop by the police department to retrieve the information.” He hung up the phone.

We couldn’t believe it.

I hugged Mr. Miguel. Isabella hugged Mrs. Miguel. Then we all went in for a group hug.

A few hours later, we took off for the police station all together. I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. As we strolled towards the front desk, we all shared the same expression: ecstatic but anxious.

“Good evening. How may I help you today, sir?”

“Greetings, my name is Antonio Miguel. We are here to retrieve the coordinates of Camilla and David Perez.”

“Right, I remember you. I was informed that you would be stopping by some time today. Let me look through the saved noted profiles -- right here. Camilla and David Perez, yes?”

“Indeed.”

“They have been located near Mexico City. We have been in contact with the closest police station to them. They are doing quite well, and they are healthy enough to travel. You have three options: visit them, have them visit you, or don’t act. This is not a choice you have to make today. Although, I would like to make clear that the expenses towards transportation will not be covered.” She glanced at Isabella and I. Her eyes clouded with relief and fatigue. “The coordinates should have been or will be forwarded to you via email.”

“Thank you so much.” Mr. Miguel said.

“Thank you,” I said. Isabella hugged me while Mrs. Miguel hugged Mr. Miguel.

We had already been looking into flights as Mr. Miguel received the coordinates. With little money to spare, it took a little while and incredible patience to find an affordable transportation method that my parents could take. After a few days of searching and waiting, we finally stumbled upon the perfect one. Unfortunately, since we cannot contact them directly, we had to send the information we have to the police station closest to them, which will eventually forward it to them.

The air was filled with joy and excitement for the ecstatic day ahead.“Isabella! Today is the day. Today Mama and Papa will be arriving!” I said, close to shouting. I couldn’t help it, I was so ecstatic to the point where I was worried I would vomit. Mr. Miguel had told us not to keep our hopes up too high, but I just brushed it off.

“But Diego… what if they… don’t come?” She seemed more worried than excited. I guess Mr. Miguel got to her.

“I’m sure they will. Don’t sweat it, Isabella.”

After a lot of waiting and complaining, the phone rang. Mrs. Miguel strode towards it to pick it up. Isabella and I didn’t flinch and figured it must have been a mistake. “Hello? Sofia Miguel speaking.”

“Salutations, this is Maria at the Houston Airport, specifically the customer support department. I am calling to let you know that Camilla and David Perez have arrived.”

Mrs. Miguel’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much. We will be on our way shortly.”

“Have a good one,” Maria said, then hung up.

“Antonio! Camilla and David are at the airport!” Mrs. Miguel shouted. 

Mr. Miguel hustled down the stairs. “Come on, everybody! Let’s get in the car!” This all happened in the blink of an eye. I couldn’t believe it. I was thrilled. This isn’t a fictional fantasy anymore. This is real. This is real. I felt nauseous from all of the excitement. 

I lost track of time, and we had already arrived at the airport. “This is actually happening,” I mumbled to myself.

“What did you say, Diego?” Mr. Miguel asked.

“This is actually happening.” I chuckled.

“It is, indeed. Diego, congratulations. You deserve every bit of this. So do you, Isabella.” He gave Isabella and I a look in his eyes that gave himself away. He was proud.

“Diego… we will… see Mama and Papa?” Isabella stammered with wide eyes.

“Yes, Isabella, we will see Mama and Papa.” After I said this, she gave me a big hug then did a happy dance. 

Before I knew it, we were already at the front desk of the customer support service. “Greetings, we are here to meet Camilla and David Perez?” Mr. Miguel said with an impatient tone.

“Yes, right this way, please.” It wasn’t Maria, it was a different woman dressed in a formal black suit and jeans. We all followed her quickly, unable to sustain the feeling of thrill in our minds. We entered the lounge, and right there was a frail, short woman and a rather skinny and tall man. They both were wearing cheap clothing with a few rips, and dirt stains on their pants.

I nearly broke down. Isabella screamed and gave them both one of her iconic bear hugs. I just stood there. Mama was beginning to tear up as Papa was cackling. Mrs. Miguel watched Isabella with a huge grin. Mr. Miguel looked at me, eyes with wonder. “Diego-”

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Miguel. Thank you. For everything.” I interrupted, then sprinted towards my parents with glee. Mama kissed me on the cheek and Papa gave me a fist bump. 

I haven’t had any of those from them in over five years.

“Come on, everybody. Let’s get in the station wagon before I start tearing up.” Mr. Miguel announced.

The past weeks have been busy. Mama got a job at a nearby hairdresser, and Papa got a job at a florist. They declared that they want to live with us. The house next door is planned to go for sale soon, and we all have decided that we will work hard and put our savings and money towards that house.

When I was little, perhaps eight years old, I was sent to Texas by plane, alone. My parents right outside Mexico City were poor and could not afford to feed both my little sister, five at the time, and I on the dull farm. They believed that it was for the best of us, to keep away from the dangers of starvation. It has been five years since then. At first, we struggled with food and finding our way around town. We were practically abandoned. There was no one that was focused on our wellbeing, as far as we know. Which left us alone. 

Not anymore.

And it wouldn’t have been possible without perseverance and determination.

I walked up the stairs to Mr. Miguel working in the study.

“Thank you.”