Sophie’s eyes light up. We pack up a few towels, snacks, bottles of water, and then we’re on our way. We don’t speak much during the subway ride, and I can feel the things we’re not saying lingering in the air around us. Sophie doesn’t talk about Mexico. She doesn’t ask me any more questions about what life will be like once she gets there, doesn’t even ask me to come with her. Meanwhile, I try my best to stop thinking about how heartbreaking it was to watch Jorge sign the papers to sell the bodega earlier this week, how many times Pa almost changed his mind, how many other options he tried to come up with. I don’t tell Sophie how terrified I am of tomorrow—of having to say goodbye, of watching her leave and having to start a brand-new life on my own. Today isn’t about any of that—today, the only thing that matters is that we’re going to the beach.

We walk for a while along the shore, our feet sinking into the sand. We move past the worst of the crowds, past the amusement park, until we get to our spot—the place we always used to come to. It’s a little less busy here, so I can hear the wind and the waves above the sound of people’s voices. The boardwalk is right behind us, and straight ahead is an endless expanse of water.

We lay out a couple of towels, and while Sophie runs off toward the water and starts splashing around, I soak my feet, trying to figure out how I feel. There’s something about the wind and the smell of salt that helps me breathe a little easier. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend Ma and Pa are right next to me, and that everything that happened in the last few months was just a bad dream. But when I open them again, it becomes impossible to ignore the pain that I can feel deep down—pain because this is the last time Sophie and me are ever gonna get to do this, because after all those summers of coming here, of making this our spot, the four of us will never get to be here together again.

I suddenly feel the urge to talk to Ma and Pa. I need to see their faces, hear their voices, just for a little while. I pull out my phone and start a FaceTime call with them.

“Hi, Ma,” I say when she appears on the screen.

“Mateo?” she says. “Where are you?”

I lift my phone up so she can see what’s around me. “We’re at the beach, Ma.”