I search inside of me for whatever scraps of strength I may still have, but I can’t find any. I think back on those first nights without Ma and Pa, and how I somehow managed to be there for Sophie—how I was able to at least offer her a few words of comfort. Tonight feels different. There’s nothing I can give her. My hands, my heart, and my chest are all empty.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” I say after a long moment of silence.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m gonna talk to Ma and Pa tomorrow. I’m gonna make them see that you belong in Mexico.”

While I was watching Pasiones in the living room earlier, I figured that’s the only thing I can do. I can’t send Sophie to Mexico on my own. I can’t submit her passport application without our parents’ signatures, or buy her a plane ticket, or make arrangements for when she does get to Puebla. But if I manage to get Ma on my side, I can’t imagine Pa being able to put up much resistance. If we all sit down without letting our own frustrations get to our heads, then maybe we’ll be able to have a real conversation about where me and my sister should be.

“What did Ma and Pa say when you spoke on the phone?” I ask.

“Nothing new,” Sophie answers. “That I have to try my best to get used to the way things are. That I have you.”

“You do, Sophie” I say. “You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

She’s silent for a long time—so long that I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. After a while, I start wishing my parents and I could have a conversation just like this—in hushed voices, in the dark. It would be so much easier than what I know is coming.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Sophie asks in a whisper.

“Of course,” I answer. “They have to see the truth, Sophie.” Deep down, though, I know it won’t be as simple. “Now try to get some sleep. We need to be ready for tomorrow.”

24

AS MUCH AS I WISH I COULD fall asleep, I can’t. While I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, I start hoping that morning will never come—that the night will stretch on endlessly so that I can at least get a bit of rest. Inevitably, though, morning does come. Slowly at first, the daylight breaks through the darkness of the night. It remains soft and dim for the longest time, but then it starts to get brighter. The sun appears outside the window shamelessly, unapologetically. It’s as if it’s trying to prove to me that no matter what I attempt to do, or how tight I close my eyes, there is nothing I can do to stop it.