Page 135 of Something in Between

I know I need to tread on gentle ground with him right now. “Stanford just called, Daddy. I’ve been awarded enough financial aid to attend all four years.”

I don’t tell him about Millie. It’ll make him think the award is pity money.

“That’s great,” Dad says. “Do they know you’re getting deported in June?”

“No! I can’t leave America. None of us can leave now! This isn’t just about me getting into Stanford. This is money to attend. This is everything. This is my future.”

“Tell that to the US government,” he says. “We skip out on deportation, and we could lose all our assets and sit in a detainment center playing solitaire for five years.”

I don’t say anything. He’s right. I can’t expect them to live under the pressure, especially since there’s a significant chance none of us may ever gain citizenship if we don’t follow the rules.

“It would be worse than bad,” he says. “You see those people who get kicked out? They have nothing. That’s where we would be if we took too many risks. I’m sure they can take away all that scholarship money too, along with everything we own.”

“But Royce’s dad called the judge and asked him to change his mind,” I insist. “We heard him talk to him on the phone. He said it would all work out.”

“Well, where’s our extension, then?” Dad finally finds a box. He picks it up and opens the folds. “It’s okay if we leave—we can eat Filipino food all the time.”

I give him a weak smile. “How do you deal with all of this, Dad?” I ask. “Us leaving. Without being too sad? Without shutting down?”

“Ah, Jasmine. My girl,” he says, beckoning me to come to him. When I go over, he holds me with his strong, fatherly arms. “This world is filled with families who don’t have wonderful daughters like mine.”

48

All happy families are alike.

—LEO TOLSTOY,ANNA KARENINA

ROYCE COMES OVER LATER.We still haven’t had a real chance to talk since everything that happened at the courthouse and at Kayla’s house, several weeks ago. I know that his family just sent Mason to rehab in Utah. They all went, and Royce just got back from the airport.

He’s tired and his eyes are red-rimmed, but from lack of sleep or crying I don’t know. It upsets me though. I hate when he’s sad, and I’m about to make him sadder.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. He’s going to be there for three months, Dad sprang for the full program. Mason’s already joking that he’s transferred to Circa Lodge instead of Columbia,” he says, naming one of the most expensive rehabilitation centers in the country.

We laugh together.

“Hey,” I say gently. “I got a grant to go to Stanford.”

“That’s awesome. Of course you did—you’re amazing.” His eyes are shining.

“If only the judge granted our temporary visas like he told your dad he would. I know your dad’s office is working on following up but we haven’t heard anything,” I say. “If only we could stay.”

He nods. “If only.”

“I have to return this to you,” I say, and remove the ring from my pocket. It seems wrong to keep wearing it. “I want you to know that you made me the happiest person in the world when you asked me to marry you.”

He nods again. He takes the ring and puts it away. His lips are trembling and I can’t stand it.

I put a hand on his face, feel the stubble there. “I will marry you one day, Royce Blakely. I promise.”

He puts a hand over my hand and smiles, sunshine through the rain. “You’re going to keep that promise.”

* * *

A few days later, at home, we’re all preparing for graduation. Dad buys my cap and gown and I try it on in the living room. It feels like everything is ending so quickly and I don’t know where I’m going to go next.

“I have to iron it,” I say.

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