“A young boy seeking asylum. He’d been living in that dreadful camp everyone’s always calling the Jungle. Absolutely filthy conditions. Alabast thinks they can just cram every refugee they don’t want into that tiny island outpost and hope they get so sick of it they just go back to whatever war they came from. Well, some of them have no country to go back to! Hello! It’s underwater!” Amy takes a moment, then goes through her breathing cycle. “I’m sorry, Ify. It’s just . . . it’s so difficult not to feel outraged these days. That’s why I’m so happy you’re doing what you’re doing. All grown up and being a medical doctor, helping these refugees to adjust.” She smiles at Ify, and it looks once again like tears are pooling in her eyes. “Get past their trauma. It’s good work.”

“So you adopted a child?” Ify can barely push past the shock.

“Well, we’re sponsoring him. His asylum paperwork is being processed, but you of all people know how arduous that process is. All we can do is try to make him as comfortable as possible while we battle it out.”

“What do you need me to do?” Ify knows there’s too much bite in her voice. But she can’t entirely mask how annoyed she is with Amy, always making these impulsive decisions. Upending a person’s entire life, thinking only of herself and her supposed good intentions. She probably just did this to add seasoning to her marriage with Paige.

“Well, we were hoping you could help him adjust. You know, relate to him. Maybe bond with him. He’s . . . he’s been having problems. Acting out. His temper’s all over the place. One minute, he’s practically snuggling, then the next minute, he’s shrieking at us that we’ve destroyed his life. He won’t eat any meat, which I can understand—”

No, you can’t, Ify almost tells her.

“—but the other stuff. Ify, I just don’t know what to do. You’re the only person I could think to come to. Especially since . . .”

“Since what?”

“He’s . . . well, in his entrance interview, he said the reason he was seeking asylum was that he was fleeing the Biafran War.”

Ify allows herself precisely two seconds of shock before she makes a determined frown. She will do what she needs to do. If not for Amy, then at least for this poor boy. But no more. She will not build this boy’s future for him. Only point him in the right direction. Still, she can’t fully push past her anger, so she only nods perfunctorily. When Amy says, “Thank you,” Ify replies with a curt “Sure, Amy,” then shuts off the transmission.

CHAPTER

4