I’m sure they’ll be allowed to make a call at some point. I reach for my pocket to take out my phone, and I grasp it tightly in my hand, begging it to ring.

“I’m hungry,” Sophie says. I realize suddenly that I am, too. All the stress and the tears had made me forget, but the second I think about it, my stomach starts growling.

“I’ll make us something to eat.”

I get up from the couch and go into the kitchen. Looking inside the fridge and cabinets, I find several things we can use: corn tortillas, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and a can of refried beans. Ma must’ve been planning to make tostadas for dinner at some point this week.

I grab all the ingredients and get to work. Soon enough, I realize that having something to do is helping me push all my thoughts away, if only for a few seconds at a time, so I ask Sophie to come help me tear up the lettuce.

When we’re done making the tostadas, we each grab our plate and walk out of the kitchen. We’re halfway to the dinner table when we stop, turn to look at each other, and silently agree to go eat on the couch instead. Eating at the table without Ma and Pa would feel wrong right now.

We bite into our tostadas, and the room is filled with loud crunching sounds as we chew. They could never be as good as Ma’s, but we’re so hungry that we finish them in no time.

“Do you want another one?” I ask Sophie, and she nods.

I pick up both our plates and go back to the kitchen to make us a couple more tostadas. While I spread the beans over the tortillas, I tell myself that if I’m able to feed us both and get Sophie ready for bed tonight, I’ll have succeeded. And tomorrow, when I have to do it all over again, at least I’ll be able to find a bit of strength in the fact that I was able to do these things the day before.

Sophie’s bedtime routine isn’t very complicated, but Ma usually takes care of it while I’m in my bedroom doing homework after dinner. She always gets Sophie into bed right before Pasiones de tu Corazón starts, so I’m never really involved in the process.

Sophie takes a shower every night. She tells me she’ll be okay doing that on her own, but I stand outside the bathroom door just in case she needs anything. After a few minutes of hearing the shower running, she comes out wearing her pajamas. Her hair is dripping wet, so I help her wrap a towel around it, and then I watch as she brushes her teeth. I close the curtains in her room, and then I tuck her into bed.