“We’re all still adapting,” I say, which is my way of telling them that life just feels like an uncertain mess right now. “How are you?”

“Good. We’re just… good,” Pa replies, which is his way of saying that life for them feels the exact same way.

“How’s the job search going?” I try not to ask them about these things in front of Sophie, but right now she’s in the shower, and Jorge and Amy are out. They went to dinner at their friends’ place and took Ellie with them, so my parents and I are free to talk about anything we want.

“I spoke to Julieta, an old friend, yesterday. She said her brother might have something for me on his ranch, so we’ll see.” It’s been a long time since I’ve heard Pa get excited about a job opportunity. All the other ones have led nowhere, so I can’t blame him for feeling a little apathetic at this point.

“How about you, Ma?”

“I’m also still looking, mijo,” she says. She’s been going around town every day, asking at every single store, restaurant, and hotel if they’re hiring, but she also hasn’t had any luck.

“And the new place?”

“It’s okay,” Pa answers. “We had a bit of an issue with the kitchen sink yesterday—broken pipe, won’t bore you with the details. It’s fixed now.”

“Don’t worry about us, Mateo,” Ma adds quickly. “You don’t need to carry that extra weight.”

There are so many things I wish I could say right now. I want to tell Ma that it’s not like I can just choose to put this weight down, that the responsibility of keeping the bodega running and taking care of Sophie is becoming too much for me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing those things. Mostly, though, I want to tell her about what things have been like at Jorge and Amy’s lately, but I can’t get any of the words out.

The shower stops, and I know Sophie will be coming out of the bathroom any minute.

“I have to go,” I say to my parents. I notice the way they look directly at the camera and open their mouths, but I end the call before they have a chance to say anything else.

During breakfast on Sunday, I watch as Sophie plays around with her bowl of cereal for thirty minutes, barely eating anything.

“Come on, Sophie. Just eat a little more. You don’t have to finish it.”

“I’m not hungry,” she says with bitterness in her voice that has never been there before.