“Do something you’d never do,” Andy said. “To figure out if you should go.”

It was the day before notifications would go out about the applications to move. Across from the coffee shop, men were setting up a stage. There were signs all over the mall that a ballet performance would take place that evening.

“Like what?” Izabel said.

“I don’t know. Have your tea leaves read. Get a tarot reading.”

“Do you do those things?”

“No,” Andy said. “But I haven’t ever been as torn as you look.”

“I am torn,” Izabel said.

“Have you ever been in the spiritual center?”

“We got married there.”

“Oh yeah? By who?”

“It was a Quaker wedding, where everybody signs the certificate.”

“Are either of you Quaker?”

“No.” Izabel shook her head. “But it was on the list of wedding ceremonies they offered and we liked the sound of it.”

“We had a Jewish wedding. My husband smashed the glass under the chuppah and everything.”

“Was he Jewish?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a little Jewish,” Izabel said.

“You?”

“Part of my family fled to Uruguay during World War II and a few generations later, you look like me.”

Andy laughed.

“I don’t know much about being Jewish,” Izabel said, “or about being from Uruguay. I’m assimilated, as they say.”

“Me, too,” Andy said.

“Kaito still knows a lot about his Japanese heritage. He tells Cami all kinds of stories. I’m jealous.”

“That’s great for Cami, though.”

“Yeah,” Izabel said. She watched the men for a second. They were setting up trusses for the lighting. She wondered if there’d be a spotlight to follow the woman as she’s chased across the stage. “Ugh, he’s so sure about what to do.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Leave. Stay. Maybe you won’t get approved and the decision will be made for you.”

“You’re right.”

Andy nodded and shrugged at once.

“Fine. I’ll do a tarot reading.”

Andy smiled. “Make the appointment now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, while we’re sitting here.”

“Okay,” Izabel said. She brought out her tablet and booked a session with a reader named Maris. “Done.”

“Good,” Andy said, and she started talking about how much her parents used to like gardening together.

That night, Izabel went into Cami’s room and sat at the edge of her bed. She listened to Cami sleep-talk.

“I want to have the man who makes my sandwiches at the mall over for my next birthday party. He’s my best friend.

“What’s his name?

“I don’t know.

“Then I don’t think you should have him in your house.

“I like him.

“But you don’t know him.

“I know him. I said I know him.

“What color does he like?”

Cami paused.

“Who is in his family? What does he like to do?”

She started to cry.