He lets out a long sigh in response. “I think that late August flight you found is still our best bet,” he says. “But it’s more expensive than I’d hoped.” He looks directly at the camera, blinking repeatedly. I’m sure his eyes are hurting from staring at the screen for too long. “Have you found anything else?”

It’s my turn to let out a long sigh. “I haven’t,” I answer. “And, Pa, there’s something I wanna talk about. I… I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Mexico. And what my life would be like if I moved there with you.”

Pa turns away from me, rubbing his eyes.

“All these months, I’ve been so focused on Sophie—making sure she’s okay, that she has what she needs, keeping her safe. But now that I know she can go live with you and Ma… I’ve started to think about the things I want.”

“And what are they, Mateo?”

“I want to be wherever you, Ma, and Sophie are,” I say. “But I also want to be here. In New York. I want to be with Adam and Kimmie, and graduate high school, and go to college. I mean, you’ve said it all along—getting into a good college is hard as it is… and if I start senior year at a different school, in a different country, well…” I take a deep breath. “There’s also the bodega. You’ve worked so hard to build it up. It doesn’t feel right for me to just leave it behind.”

Pa doesn’t say anything for a long time. There’s some sort of resistance on his face. It’s as if he’s struggling with himself, trying to decide whether he should say any of this or not, but then he nods slowly. “I had a call yesterday.”

“A call?”

“From people who want to buy the bodega from us.”

Suddenly, my throat feels like it’s about to close. “Pa,” I say. “You can’t do this. You can’t sell the bodega.”

“I don’t think we have a choice, mijo.”

Taking small breaths through my mouth, I try to imagine a world where Pa’s bodega isn’t at the corner of Eleventh Street and Avenue A—a world where I no longer see Nelly and Erika every day, where people in the neighborhood no longer have a place to buy stuff at reasonable prices, where the business my parents worked so tirelessly to build no longer exists.

“When were you gonna tell me this?”