They didn’t really let me in on their conversations. They were friendly, don’t get me wrong but I had to earn their trust. Which is hard. Because I’m not really a people person.
I got to know a few people on a superficial level. And by that, I mean I would smile and nod my head. I never learned their names.
I was waiting around for a job when a woman approached me. She said something in another language so I just smiled and nodded.
She said a few more things.
I again smiled and nodded.
A man came over and said, “She says she has seen you before.”
“I’ve been here every day for the last week,” I told him. Which he should have known, we’ve been on the same crew two of those days.
And before we get any further, I wasn’t doing yard work or construction in Chicago. It was mostly moving stuff. Sometimes painting, which I was fine at as long as I didn’t have to be on a ladder.
“No, she got picked up a couple of weeks ago,” he informed me.
“Oh, sorry to hear that,” I said, trying to give her my best sympathetic look.
The woman said some more stuff that I couldn’t understand.
“She was being held by ICE,” the man translated. “Your picture is on the wall.”
“My picture?” I asked, baffled about why they would have my picture.
She spoke some more.
“She said she was told by someone who overheard them talking about you,” he paused. He turned to the woman and asked a question in the same language.
I glanced around anxiously.