“Escucha,” he says. “You have to listen first. We have to think about the long term. If I leave the country on my own, it means I’m technically not being deported. It might be easier to come back in the future. But if a judge orders me to leave, they might not let me come back for a very long time—or maybe ever.”

Even though my heart is beating fast, I try my best to breathe slowly, to make sense of what my dad is saying.

“Isn’t it worth it, though? Isn’t it worth it to see if the judge will let you come back home?” I ask. “I mean—do they know Sophie and I were born here? Did you tell them your children are American?”

“I did. And that’s one of our options—if we could prove that you and Sophie would be really affected by my deportation, they might let me stay.”

“Well, we can do that. We can show them how—”

“Mateo, it’s not that easy.” Pa sounds exhausted all of a sudden. “Exceptional and extremely unusual hardship—those are the words the lawyer used. That’s what we would have to prove, and just telling them that you and Sophie would have to grow up without us is not enough.” He lets out another sigh, and the words exceptional and extremely unusual hardship seem to echo in the air around us. Coming from the man who used to pronounce lounge as lunch, and who could never remember that limón means lime and not lemon, the words seem heavier somehow. I can just imagine Pa hanging on to his lawyer’s every word, trying hard to memorize what he said, repeating this to himself for days. “It’s not looking good, mijo. Everyone I’ve talked to thinks your ma and I won’t be allowed to stay.”

For a moment, we’re all silent. We can hear Pa’s ragged breathing and the sounds of the city outside the apartment, but none of us is able to speak.

Finally, it’s Pa who breaks the silence. “Have you spoken to your ma? What has she told you?”

“We—we spoke to her on Sunday,” I say, and my stomach feels heavy, because we haven’t heard from her since. “She’s hopeful. She thinks you might be able to come back home.” I hope hearing this will give Pa a bit of strength, because I can tell he needs it.

“I can’t imagine her case would be too different from mine,” Pa says. “If you talk to her, ask her what she thinks, what options she’s been given.”

“Okay, Pa,” I say. “I’ll ask her.”

When we get a call from Ma the next day, however, I forget about those questions. From the moment we first hear her voice, she sounds weak, desperate. She barely sounds like herself.