Waiting For A Visa: Autobiographical Notes

He stood in front of me, held my face between his hands and stared down at me. I waited, once again, I did. For what? This time I didn't know. But the moment he spoke, I knew, the wait was over. "You waited." He said. I gasped. " You waited." He breathed.

“Ma’am, there’s no marriage record between you and Mr. Mark Henderson in the system.” My fingers tightened around the pregnancy report as my legs nearly gave out beneath me. Five years ago, Mark was recruited by a top law firm abroad with a high-paying offer. Without hesitation, I followed him across the ocean. He had told me, “Once I’m settled, I’ll take care of your status.” However, five years had passed, and my lawful permanent residence was still “in process.” Meanwhile, his assistant, Tonya Irving, who followed him abroad, had secured hers under his sponsorship. Back then, I made a scene, insisting on a divorce so I could return home. For the first time, the ever-composed Mark, an attorney, lost his calm. He grabbed my hand and said, “Tonya’s all alone out here, and it hasn’t been easy for her. Helping her is just the right thing to do. You’re my wife. Your status is only a matter of time. My work is sensitive right now, and I need to avoid any complications. You understand, don’t you?” But I had understood him for five whole years. My phone suddenly rang. Mark’s voice came through, light with laughter. “Tonya’s permanent residence was approved today. We’re celebrating tonight. I need you to get home early and cook up a feast.” I stared at the marriage license in my hand—now nothing more than a worthless piece of paper. A cold chill spread down my spine. As it turned out, I was never his legal wife. I had no legal status and no protection, much less rights secured for the child I was carrying. After hanging up, I scheduled an abortion and booked the earliest flight home. This time, I wouldn’t look back.

This an autobiography of a man's childhood day, the horror and the dread that he went through, it also comprises of other happenings that made up his childhood day: both sad and happy moments.

I disappeared in the year Sebastian Ferraro loved me most. For thirteen years, he never got an explanation. And for thirteen years, I punished myself by never watching his games, never saying his name, and never thinking about the promise we made in that old hockey rink. Until I returned to this city and saw a faded poster outside the abandoned arena. Sebastian was only seventeen in the photo. He stood at the center of the ice, bright-eyed and fearless, with one sentence printed beneath him: Wait for me past the blue line. That was his promise to me. And I had missed it for thirteen years. Later, I collapsed inside his arena. When I woke up, the boy I had once failed was standing beside my hospital bed. Only he was no longer a boy. He was a professional hockey star. The heir to the Ferraro crime family. And a man whose fiancée was about to marry him. I wanted to tell him why I had left all those years ago. But he looked at me and said coldly, “The past is over. Don’t cause any misunderstandings.” That was when I finally understood. I no longer had the right to disturb his life. So I smiled, swallowed every truth I had kept buried, and booked a flight to New Zealand. I thought leaving was the last thing I could do for him. Until that plane disappeared from radar. The news spread through the whole city. Everyone said Sebastian Ferraro lost control at the airport. He went through the passenger list again and again, screaming my name like a man who had already lost everything.

It's too cruel to say my destiny is not lucky. Maybe what is right to imply it is my destiny to be unlucky as you are. I introduce Sintia, the only child who was legally adopted as a biological child. For 35 years my life is full of twists and turns, you can say I am a person who is formed from a family that is Brochen Home, my escape is by pursuing hobbies and looking for as many friends as possible. I am more comfortable telling stories and sharing life stories with male friends. This is what makes them all friends but intimate in my life. The reason is simple, because a male friend is smart in keeping secrets and is good at giving positive advice. The story of my life continues to twist, like a beach blade. Whether it is family problems, problems with young friends who often bully, problems with love, work, household and others. I keep trying to find a good way out and I try to be strong and endure all the trials of life. How not to go crazy over it or kill yourself over it all. "True Story" Sintia Novel Series

Perer Ford is the smartest guy in school and at home. He has a weird way of making things go right. It is his final year in senior secondary school and he tries to make everything go perfect before leaving for the university. A funny and exciting diary about his experiences, struggle and life on the edge of adulthood.https://tinyurl.com/y4zt5qnv