Trying not to overthink it, I turn to stare at the blooming trees outside the window, preparing myself for what’s about to happen.

I’m scared of what we’re going to find when we get to the detention center in Buffalo. I think of the way Ma has barely sounded like herself when we’ve spoken to her on the phone, and I wonder if being in that awful place has changed her. I have no idea what she’s been through, what she’s seen. What if we get there and find that Ma is no longer the person she used to be?

“I have to pee,” Sophie says softly from the back seat, interrupting my thoughts. I look at the time on the dashboard and realize we’re halfway there.

“We’ll pull over at the next rest stop,” Uncle Jorge says, and so we stop at a gas station near Endicott. Sophie and I run into the tiny convenience store, and Jorge stays behind to fill up the tank. While Sophie is inside the bathroom, I walk around the store, grabbing chips, and donuts, and bottles of water. I hadn’t realized until now that we’d forgotten to bring snacks for the road. I guess none of us thought of it. You bring snacks on a road trip to go somewhere fun, not when you’re going to visit your mom in a detention center upstate.

The second half of the way feels a little quicker. It’s almost one o’clock by the time we see a sign on the side of the road announcing we’ve made it to Buffalo, and we’re all exhausted from the drive.

When we see the detention center ahead, however, I straighten my back in my seat. I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. We need to look as nice as possible for Ma.

Uncle Jorge finds a parking spot and turns off the engine. As he unbuckles his seatbelt, he turns to look at me, and then at Sophie.

“You okay?”

Neither of us answers. When the lingering silence in the car starts to suffocate us, I push the passenger door open and step out. Jorge and Sophie join me a second later, and we walk side by side toward the entrance of the building.

My hand finds Sophie’s, and I squeeze hard. She might think I’m comforting her, but it’s really the other way around. I need to hold her hand to make sure I won’t trip, to keep myself putting one foot in front of the other even though my legs are shaking so bad that I fear they might give out under my weight at any second.