“And?” I say, clutching my chest. “Ma, what happened? What did he say?”

“Not much, mijo,” she says. “He told me he made it to the city, but he didn’t even say where he’s staying. I tried to ask him to come back, to be reasonable, to stop whatever he’s trying to do, but he hung up before I could say much. I’m sorry, Mateo. I wish I could tell you more. I just—”

“It’s okay, Ma.”

“Maybe he’ll call again later,” she replies, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

After breakfast, I call Maria to ask if she can keep Sophie distracted for the day. She agrees right away, and she even offers to pick up my sister and take her and Leslie to the movies.

“Thank you, Maria,” I say to her. “Thank you so much.”

She reminds me once again that it’s not a problem, that Leslie loves having Sophie around, and that she’ll bring her over later tonight. Feeling as though at least some of the weight in my stomach has gone away, I head to the bodega.

“What’s wrong?” Erika asks me when I walk in.

“It’s just…” I almost blurt out everything, but I stop myself in time. At least for a while, I want to be able to get lost among the shelves and not think about anything but work.

“Nothing,” I say finally. “Everything’s okay.”

But during our entire shift, Erika keeps staring at me. It’s almost as if she knows exactly what has happened, as if the answers to all her questions were written on my face.

“No.”

“But—”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

When I got home from the bodega, Jorge and Amy were having a fight inside their room. At first, I did my best to respect their privacy. I went into the second bedroom and put on my headphones, but after half an hour, when they were still yelling, I just couldn’t help it anymore. I paused my music and moved closer to the door, trying to understand what they’re fighting about.

“He’s not to blame for any of this,” Jorge says, and my stomach turns. He? I wonder. They couldn’t be talking about me, could they? “He’s already lost so much.”

My heart breaks. So they are talking about me. It’s one thing to know it—to look around and realize that many of the things that matter most to me in the world have been taken away. It’s another thing to hear someone else say it. It makes it feel more… real. It makes my throat close and my legs feel weak.

“I know,” Amy replies. “I never said he was. But—”

“But what?”

“Before any of this happened, we never fought like this, Jorge.”

“We just need to find other ways to—”