We crank open the car windows, let the breeze skim our still-wet skin, our hair, our fingers. Carlos is relaxed. We decide to splurge and treat ourselves to fried food in the pretty town, which curves down a hill with galleries and little shops that sell mugs and T-shirts and beaded bracelets that cost too much. The restaurant sits right on the bay, the water jeweled and shiny from the lowering sun. All around us are families, mostly white families, though to my relief, I see a few South Asians. I see grandparents with wispy gray hair and striped nautical shirts, helping feed the kids. My eyes film with tears. We’re a family too, I tell myself.

“So,” I say to Carlos, as we push aside our empty food containers. “Just hear me out. What if Ammi gets out? You can come live with us. You can be a delivery guy for Uber Eats. Like the ones who scooter around in yellow vests with the insulated bags on the back.”

He tilts his head, amused. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“They will totally love you, all the people who work at the restaurants—”

Kamal brightens. “Is Carlos staying with us in Brooklyn?”

Carlos laughs and stands. “Hermanito, it’s time for ice cream. Not talk.”

As I watch them walk away to the ice cream window, my heart soars. They do belong together: lanky Carlos, one hand set lightly on Kamal’s head while Kamal hops on one foot.

I’m lit up with plans: He’ll meet Fatima and give her ideas for her fashion designs, and they’ll argue over who is my best friend. We’ll swim in the pool in Sunset Park, teach Kamal how to finally ride a bike. My mind is spinning. It will all work out.

I pull out the prepaid phone card and call Fatima and tell her my ideas about Carlos coming to live with us in Brooklyn.

“Whoa, whoa, Rania. Slow down. So now you’re his savior?”

“No! I just think it would be so cool. He can go to art school. You to FIT—”

“I’m going to Brooklyn College,” she points out.

“Okay, but we can be together.”

She laughs. “Ra-Ra, I love you. But you get carried away. You think just because you dream something up, it can happen.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Hey, tell me about your uncle! What was that like?”

I flinch. “Complicated.”