~6.4~

“But if I could get to the DMV while it’s open,” the woman says, “they’ll help me get a picture ID with my name on it? And my picture?”

“Well, sure,” the man says. “As long as you’ve got some ID to show them, and the fee.”

“Oh, I have lots of IDs,” the woman says. “Just not the right one.”

“Are you… are you illegal?” the man asks her, leaning in close and lowering his voice. Now that he really looks at the woman, he can see that she’s not white, that there is what he thinks of as a slightly unusual, exotic cast to her features. She doesn’t look like the image that comes to his mind when he thinks about illegal immigrants, but… as he thinks to himself… there is a whole world out there that people could be immigrating from.

“Am I against the law?” the woman asks, her eyes blinking with confusion.

“Are you here illegally?” the man clarifies. “Did you… you know, sneak in?”

“I was brought here,” the woman says. “In a crate.”

“Oh,” the man says. “I’m sorry. Look… I kind of know a guy who knows a guy, you know?”

“I don’t think so,” the woman says. “I have to confess, I don’t know many guys. At least not ones who are still alive today.”

“What?” the man says.

“I don’t know a guy who knows a guy you know,” the woman says. “Or at least, it’s very unlikely that I do.”

“I mean, I think I might be able to help you out with your ID problem,” the man says. “I can’t make any promises, especially if you need a social security number… but I think I can help you get a driver’s license, at least.”

“I don’t need to drive,” the woman says. “I just need to prove my residency.”

“To the INS?”

“INS?”

“Oh, I guess they’re the ICE now,” the man says.

“No,” the woman says. “To the public library.”