My reception goes away just as the roads go from bumpy to practically impassable. I turn on an audiobook and stare out of the window into the Belizian jungle. Besides the bus’s headlights, there are no lights illuminating the road. I close my eyes and try to relax.

3

Nicholas

When there are complications…

The following morning, I take a cab from the bus terminal and spend the day in a hotel waiting for my flight. After a long nap and a big dinner at the downstairs restaurant, I feel somewhat rested and prepared.

No, prepared is not the right word. Just rested.

It’s one thing to cross over from Belize to Mexico on a fake passport and it’s a whole other thing to do so from Mexico to an international location like Thailand.

On top of that, there’s a warrant out for my arrest and they are showing my face on television screens across the country. If there is even one crime show junkie at the airport then I’m totally fucked.

I don’t want to think of today as the last day of my life, but just in case it is and I’m arrested I want to be well-fed.

“Was everything to your liking?” the waitress asks.

“Yes, it was excellent,” I say. “Where are you from?”

“Houston,” she says with a smile.

She has long golden hair and green eyes. Tall and thin, she looks nothing like Olive yet everything about her reminds me of her.

We flirt for a few minutes and I stay for a few more drinks. When she leaves to take care of her other customers, my phone dings.

It’s from my bank. The payment didn’t go through and they’ve cancelled my ticket.

Shit.

I re-read the email again, trying to figure out what could’ve happened.

I didn’t have a chance to set up a credit card yet under a new name, but there’s plenty of money in my bank account.

I put in my password and wait as the page loads.

My account has been frozen.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

I shake my head. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t under my real name. How could they have this identity?

The waitress brings me the bill and I pause.

If I give them this card, the payment isn’t going to go through.

I search for some cash in my wallet, knowing full well that I don’t have any pesos.

“I’m so sorry, I’m having some issue with my bank right now.”

She stares at me.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have eaten here if I knew that but I can't access my account for some reason.”

She shakes her head.

“Can I pay you in American dollars?”

She laughs.

“What can I do?” I say, showing her the fifty.