“But why can’t you stay with me until I get on the plane?” Sophie asks as we stand at the start of the security line.

“We’re not allowed to, Sophie. But Stacey here will help you. She’ll make sure you get on the plane safely.” Jorge smiles at the airline worker who offered to walk Sophie all the way to the gate.

“And do you promise it won’t be scary?” Sophie asks me. She’s been asking about this a lot since last night—what it’s like to be on a plane. It’s hard to believe now that she wanted to do this all on her own, that she hadn’t stopped to ask herself these same questions before running off to Penn Station.

“I promise. People fly on planes every single day.” I don’t really know what I’m talking about, of course. I’ve never been on a plane either, but I just know she’ll be okay.

“And will you call me?” Sophie asks. She’s also asked this question a lot lately.

“Every day. And I’ll see you again before you know it. I’m coming to Mexico for Christmas, remember?”

She wraps her tiny arms around me and squeezes with all her strength. I squeeze back, never wanting to let go, but I know I have to. She needs to make it to her flight.

I watch as she joins the long line to go through security, and right before she goes through the metal detector, she turns around to look at me one last time. Even though she’s too far away to really make out what she’s saying, I’m pretty sure I can read her lips: “Te amo.”

Hoping she’ll be able to read my lips as well, I mouth something at her. “I love you, too.”

We drive back to Manhattan with the windows rolled down. Jorge is in the driver’s seat with Amy next to him, and I ride in the back.

For the first half of the way, there’s sadness in the air around us. But then, when I meet Jorge’s eyes in the rearview mirror, I realize that he’s smiling, and I frown a little to myself, trying to understand what he could possibly have to smile about.