The Call
By: Julissa Celis


It had only been three years since she had become President Carla Castro of the United States, but the inauguration still felt like yesterday. That day, she also became the first ever latina woman to become president. The crowds of people were filled with pride, and a very special one was there too: her mother. She had long been gone since then, but the wound of losing her #1 supporter still hurt. 
She found herself staring outside, but blinked the haze away and focused on the reason she was in the oval office today. Every Saturday at 12:30, it was her responsibility to answer the community phone. It was a large yellow model, and people from all over the country would have comments, critiques, or questions lasting until 1:25. 
“Hello, this is President Castro speaking!” She repeated this before every conversation, which usually lasted for a few minutes. Today, three people ranted over government conspiracies, eight on why focusing on free healthcare was a waste of her time, and a couple others encouraging her to keep up the hard work. Those last types of calls were her favorite. Eventually, it was time for one more. 
“Hello? This is Robin. I’m 10 years old, from Benedictio, California.” she squeaked. 
“Oh! It’s nice to meet you Robin, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” Carla asked.
 The line was quiet for a moment but Robin answered, “Yeah, I wanted to thank you for helping us. The kids I mean. My mom told me you created the Robin Hood foundation just for me! And we can buy food now. The kids in my apartment are eating more too. So thank you!”.
Carla couldn’t help but break into a grin. This adorable little girl! The Robin Hood foundation had been one of her newest projects. The national organization took taxes and philanthropy from the top 10% earners and donated all of it to children and families in poverty. 
“Yes, of course it was for you little Robin! In fact, why don't I write down your address and maybe we can set up a fundr-” Carla stopped. A splitting headache swallowed her head and blurred her vision. The nausea left as fast as it had arrived, but Robin was no longer on the line. Usually the phone shuts off at 1:25 anyways, but the phone rang again. “Hello?” Carla whispered.
“Hi, It’s me”, the squeaky voice prompted. She’s back! “I just wanted to thank you for not giving up on us. You were here once, in a poor neighborhood like this. Your family was struggling to make ends meet.”
“They were,” Castro admitted, “My mom was working three jobs per week, and cleaning the houses of people on Rico Ave. after school. She gave up so much for me, and I’m eternally grateful. That’s where hard work gets you. And I promise I’ll never stop fighting to give all you kids that same opportunity.”
“I know. You’re becoming the person I always knew you would. And even more, thank you for representing your people. We’re all proud of you. Especially mama.” The girl stated. A little personal, but Carla didn’t think much of it. 
“Robin, I really appreciate this, truly, you made my day. People like you are the reason I’m here. I promise life has so much in store for you. Just keep fighting. I think the session might be ending soon but take care of yourself, okay?” 
“Who’s Robin?”. The voice asked earnestly. Was this not her? Carla racked her brain for some explanation. 
“I’m sorry, who is this again?” Carla asked.
“You.”
You. What was she talking about? The confusion took Carla aback and she replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, what do you mean me? Do we have the same name or-”
        “No. I’m you Carla. Just 10 years old. I’m checking in like a responsible past self of course! And I just wanted to tell you that I’m so proud of you. For everything you have become. For everything you have done for the latino community, the children, the planet, and your dreams. People will chase after theirs too now.” 
This had to be some kind of joke. Talking with her past self? Carla had to have been going insane. Little Carla probably sensed that too because she added, “If you don’t believe me just listen to mom”. 
        Carla’s heart dropped. She sank into her seat and shut her eyes and sure enough, in the background, muffled by the clinking of washing dishes, was her mother. She was singing her dramatic songs, with that proud and sassy tone she always wore. “¡Hola Carlita! ¿Qué haces mi amor?” she sang. Carla couldn’t believe it. Tears flooded her eyes and her throat felt tight. She wanted to stay in this moment forever. 
        “Mama, if I became president in, let's say, 30 years, what would you say to me?” Little Carla asked. 
        “That I’m so proud of you for being so strong!” Marta gushed. The rest of the call was taken over by giggles and Carla just sat there paralyzed in her seat. She opened her mouth to say goodbye to little Carla but the line began to beep before she could mutter a word. 


When Carla got the phone out of her shaky grasp, she sank to the floor and began to weep.