“Because we have nowhere to go right now. Ma is all by herself in Puebla, and Pa is somewhere in Mexico City.”

“But we could go be with Ma. We could live with her while Pa figures out a plan.”

There are so many things I don’t have the energy to explain to her right now—the fact that we’ll need both of our parents’ signatures for our passport applications, that I have no idea how long it’ll take for Pa to find a job in Mexico City, that just packing our bags and moving to Puebla isn’t as easy as it seems.

“It’s not that simple, Sophie,” I say in the end. “But we have to be hopeful.”

As Sophie takes another deep breath, I see frustration in her eyes. I know she’s tired of hearing this, tired of empty promises, tired of not having the answers she needs. She turns away from me to stare at the ceiling, and while she blinks slowly in the soft morning light, her expression becomes blank. For the briefest moment, I worry that she’s lost whatever strength she had left—that all hope has left her.

Over the next couple of days, I learn a few things about Kimmie’s family. I quickly realize that helping others is part of their everyday life, and not just something they’re doing for me and my sister. Mr. Reid is on the board of directors of a homeless shelter network, and even after going to work, he manages to find time to volunteer at his church a couple of times a week. I learn that Mrs. Reid likes to paint, and she sits by the window in the living room each morning, filling canvases with beautiful images of lakes and mountains and forests, which she later sells. I learn that they like eating dinner early, there is always a pot of hot tea waiting on the stove, and they keep their home incredibly clean at all times. Mostly, however, I learn that Mr. and Mrs. Reid are genuinely kind, and I can see so much of them in Kimmie.

“Do you and Sophie wanna go out for dinner with us tonight?” she asks me on the third morning we’ve spent here, while we’re sitting on the couch and Mrs. Reid is painting. “We usually go to the Red Lobster for my parents’ anniversary.”

My first instinct is to say no. I barely slept last night—not just because of how uncomfortable the couch is, but because Ma called before Sophie and I went to bed. She said that she’s been debating whether to go to Mexico City herself and look for Pa. I tried to convince her not to—to stay where she is, because she’ll never be able to find him anyway.

“I don’t wanna impose,” I answer. “The three of you should go.”