Green Card

Geneva, Switzerland, February.

I am “late”.

It has to be, this time, I step into a pharmacy.

Ask for a test.

The pharmacist explains to me, will plenty of details, how to use it.

As if I wasn’t able to read the instructions.

At my side stands a little girl.

Maybe ten years old, not more.

Staring at me up and down, she notices :

« My, you must be REALLY sick ! ».

I laugh. Already happy, already certain.

A child. My baby. Our infant !

I feel full. I feel young. I feel alive. Oh, so alive. And so full of courage. A child. A precious little thing. To love. To protect. I will. I’ll be able to do everything for you. I am there. I love you.

A bathroom

The test is positive. POSITIVE.

Sheer happiness.

Already I’m walking on eggs.

I scarcely dare climbing up into the plane that brings us back home. Well, our temporary home. In America.

Unfortunately, at Kennedy Airport in New York, the reception is more than glacial. For two hours they have us wait in a small cell. Since my husband got his green card, my tourist visa is not sufficient any more.

We both know that we won’t stay in this country forever, but “they” think that I try to immigrate illegally. Finally, after those two hours ; after I left my passport as a hostage, and, with the promise that I will return within two days with my lawyer, they let us go.

We run for miles in the corridors of the airport. Getting out of breath. I am scared for my embryo of a baby. We run to try to catch, still tonight, the plane for Washington, DC. We are the very last to engulf in the cabin of the small shuttle cuckoo.

Phew. Tonight we’ll be home. In our own bed. Tomorrow, we will seek for a lawyer.

A lady lawyer.

My husband goes to New York, at the judge’s, with his boss and our lawyer. He will plead my case. And get my passport back. He told his boss that if I cannot stay in this country, he would have to leave it too. They could at least deal and cope with each other after all, these American.

My husband comes back from New York. Without my passport which will be sent directly to a judge in Washington. He is happy because they managed to transfer the case. It’s better for me, they say.

My lawyer is very hopeful : « grow fat » she says. « grow fat as fast as you can !. As soon as a woman is six months pregnant, no airline would take the risk of boarding her anymore… »

I laugh and get ready to obey. What else can I do ?

March, April.

We hear that my passport has vanished, somewhere between New York and Washington.

May. June.

The weather is fine. So beautiful. There is music everywhere. Some friends, European musicians, come to visit us. They will stay for a few days. The entire group. A full orchestra to cram with the house. All these people. I settle two bearded men in my bed. On my lace pillow… What a laughter !

I dance a little. Very very carefully !

But, mostly I work in the kitchen. The huge T-bones steaks. The sweet corn in cobs. The baked potatoes with sour cream. It’s a party ! In the morning, I offer “braids”, specialty of my country and some homemade bread that came out marvelously, despite the traps : the over powerful yeast, and the over rich flour over vitalized.

We have not been able to eat American bread for very long. It’d leaves such a terrible plaster taste in your mouth ! And we don’t have the courage either to drive 40 miles to get some fresh bread from a baker’s in Washington… (in the early eighties it comes from Paris on board of the Concord and costs almost as much as a real diamonds !). Thus, my own bread, after a couple of months of practice and failures became quite respectable. I bake twelve loaves at a time into my giant oven before settling them in my “small” freezer.

This morning though, everything seems so delicious. I am only four months pregnant. I am radiant. Everything goes so well. Homemade bread. Homemade jellies. Everybody is happy. Life is wonderful !

After the band’s gone back to France, we leave for a holidays. We have a lady friend with us. From Paris. At first, we want to go up to New York and have her visit the Big Apple. We want to show her the Empire State Building, the Fifth Avenue, Central Park, the museums ; everything. After what we will go down to Philadelphia, where my husband has a one-day meeting for business, and then, we will head to Florida. We plan to stop for each night in a new motel, but we might want to stay somewhat longer on an island somewhere, Ocracoke for example. We are eager to visit the Everglades. There, we will see a single crocodile, thin, shabby, totally lost in the vastness of the marshlands and we will bother him in his sleep with our noisy dirty flatboat. On the other hand we will see plenty of bags factories… As for me, I still have in mind the movie « Key Largo » with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall and I’d like to see where the movie has been shot.

July, August.

I have nothing to be afraid of anymore. Six months have gone, and they cannot send me abroad anymore.

For the moment.

September, October.

The weather is so magnificent. Once more, I climb up the slope with my bowl full of dough. It is so hot that my bread rises, in the sun, twice as fast as usual. It is the most beautiful Indian summer of my life.

Mid-October

The Baby should be out soon. I cannot gain anymore weight ! Nevertheless, I will have to wait for two more weeks.

October 29th

It hurts a bit. Since 6 :00 am. During the whole day, it hurts just enough to prevent me from getting any sleep, and I am very tired when midnight comes. Since it hurts quite much, we decide to head to the hospital. In the parking lot we meet a young man whose joy explodes. ‘I have a baby girl ! I am a father !’ He shows us the way to the maternity section. We meet his wife in the long corridors. She sure does not laugh as much !

4 am in my room, I express myself !

So much and so long that they finally call the anesthetist.

He will make a epidural anesthesia.

He does.

Two hours of peace.

I am falling asleep.

The nurse comes. She sees blood where there shouldn’t be and takes the sheets off me…

The nice effect of anesthesia fades. I begin to suffer seriously. My husband is there. He holds my hand. Tight. For someone who refused to see the birth of his first two children (from his former marriage) he really makes a incredible effort.

He had told me that it killed the love of men to see their wives in the birth pangs. But, I said, never mind, I need you to be there, my mother is too far anyway and thus, our love will be strong enough to overcome this ! I did not really convince him, but he still stood there, stoic, until the 4 am epidural. After that he went to sleep in one of the waiting rooms.

Finally, at 9 o’clock sharp, after many efforts, our child gets out. We have to use the forceps, but there he is, complete, alive !

We make a small test to see whether he is French or not. We yelp : « Mac Donald’s » ! He shows a funny face, some sort of a grin, as if he would like to say « yuk !".

We are SO joyful.

And so proud, so proud !

He is so beautiful, our son.

Two days later, I am home.

I couldn’t to sleep in this hospital.

Now I regret. It really hurts. I almost can’t sit…

My husband goes and buys me a buoy. That helps !

One week later my lawyer calls me.

Your Green Card is ready.

You may go and get it.

In Paris.

In Paris ! ! ! ! !

How will I do that ?

With a one week old baby ?

On breastfeeding !

Impossible to do otherwise.

I MUST go.

At first, I try to take my child with me.

I drive to Washington, to the Swiss Embassy.

In Georgetown, I am so nervous that I loose my way to the Embassy. I was there only once, in fact. No, twice. The first time was on a first of August ; we were invited to celebrate our Swiss national day. We had fried sausages and traditional Swiss music ! Terrible ! We didn’t stay for long. The second time, we’d come to have our wedding assented. The man in charge was so drunk that he wrote the wrong date on our family booklet…

Thus, this time I am in a real hurry. Exasperated, I get a cab and ask the driver to show me the way. Once there safely, I pay the cab and get into the Embassy. I want to have my son registered on my passport. There’s no way ! My son is American. He must have his own passport. And here I am, with my newborn, seeking for a photo machine.

Imagine the picture…

To be done three times because of the lack of conformity. I get angry !

At last, they give me the passport.

It’s getting fast now.

We are in America !

My lawyer calls again. She dissuades me to take the baby with me. She thinks that “they” might not let me board the plane with my American baby if I do not have my green card already.

What a dilemma !

Either I get the green card but I cannot take my baby with me or if, on the contrary, they refuse the card to me, they will not let me come back to my baby. This is so confusing… I finally decide not to take my baby with me. I am confident. I will be coming back.

Fortunately Lorie is there. She really is a good friend. She is only eighteen, but so mature. She is finishing high school, and later she will be a reporter. Her father works in a bank.

Thus, I give her an express course on maternity. We will have to put the baby on feeding-bottle alas, but never mind. I do not want to take the risk of being stuck with him in Paris, away from my husband, his father. Lorie is beautiful. She learns very fast. I may leave safely. She will tell me later how much she was scared.

My husband has already left, for a 4 weeks trip in Europe. Teaching seminars. We might be at the same time in Paris. It is foreseen so, but I am not really sure.

The travel is so long.

First, I have to go to Bern.

To get some complementary documents.

At the Embassy, there are people outside.

They cry. They roll on the ground.

I understand that they will not be able to get to their families in America. That they will be separated. For ever.

I am scared.

My Green Car is not there, of course.

It’s in Paris.

As planned.

Anyways. Within 24 hours, everything will be settled.

Paris. Finally. Madeleine Street. The district of fashion. I know it well. I used to be a couture spot once upon a time… “At Germaine and Jeanne”. Sweet souvenir.

Well, for now, I leave my Swiss knife, my nail-scissors and everything that might seem suspicious in a small hiding-place that I find under the gates of the Embassy. Some friends told me to do so. Even a comb might seem suspicious…

Here I am. My file is ready. Entirely. Completely. I take a ticket, and wait for my turn. One hour, two hours, three hours. It is 11 am.

I know now, that somewhere in the great Paris, my husband it teaching to a bunch of engineers the joys of electromagnetism. My turn comes. An employee stares at me. She looks at my documents. It takes some time. My heart beats at two hundred miles per hour… It’s going to explode. Finally, she says : « this paper here, your husband must come and sign it in person ».

I am amazed. Astonished. Uppercut. I stutter : " he works, you know, he is on the other side of Paris, I can’t bother him for just one signature… are you sure I can’t sign it myself ? I don’t even know how to reach him !".

She looks at me coldly and strikes : « If this paper is not signed before 4 pm, you will never see your baby again ».

Literally.

I get out. Dazed. Livid. Under the shock.

A guard talks to me. French ? American ?

May I help you, Madam ?

NO !

The earth is collapsing all around me, but you can’t help me.

My life is falling apart, but you can’t help me.

Desperation is invading me but you will not help me.

NEVER.

I can’t see anything. I don’t know anything. I have to find my husband. But where ? But how ?

A pub. Three whiskey. Double them.

Place of the Concorde. A telephone.

I make a phone call in America.

His secretary tells me where he is in Paris !

He often works for the army.

Confidential defense.

Quite simple.

I finally get him on the phone.

He says : « I’m coming ». I wait. Fourth whiskey.

Both of us are standing in front of the Embassy.

I sober up instantly.

The same employee looks down at us.

Despising us obviously.

Waiting for one word, one sign, one provocation to deny us the sesame.

Which we do actually not need.

Which we have NEVER asked for.

Certain as we were, to come back to France soon.

Finally, with an elaborated slowness, cruel (did she practice in front of her mirror ?) she signs the document. The one granting me the, O so precious green card.

It took all of our self control not to explode…

But we made it !

In two days I’ll be with you.

My baby.

My love.