Page 18 of Something in Between

“He helped us with a permit we needed for one of our buildings,” Millie straightens herself in her bed.

“Do you miss your work?” I ask, because she sounded a little wistful.

“A little. My sons run the company now.” She leans up in her bed. “Could you help me adjust this pillow? I’ve had a kink in my back all day.” As I shift her pillows behind her, Millie turns to put her hand on my shoulder. “I’ve had something on my mind lately, Jasmine. May I ask you a question? It’s only a little personal.”

I nod. “Yes. Of course.”

“What’s your happiest memory?” Millie asks.

I think for a moment, scanning through my happiest moments. My grandmother giving me the amber glass. Being named cheer captain at the end of last school year. Falling asleep on a mattress on the floor my first night in America, snuggled up to Danny, his little toddler’s body warm against me. I was scared, but I was also so excited to begin a new life.

Before I can even answer her, Millie starts up again. “Do you ever sense a little silver sliver of sadness around your happy memories?”

“I’m not sure what you mean...”

“I do. There’s something about remembering that just isn’t the same as the real thing. No matter how happy it makes you feel. When you remember something, you have to recognize that the moment will never happen again.”

Millie looks out the window, her expression pensive, like she’s remembering something that happened long ago. “Never mind about that anyway,” she says. “I shouldn’t bother you with an old woman’s regrets. What about you? Tell me about yourself. You’re a senior, aren’t you? Where are you planning on going to college? Is there a boy you’re seeing? Good news? Bad news? Future plans?”

My stomach turns. Only a week ago, I would have been excited about these questions, maybe even telling her about Royce. Things have changed. Boy, have they changed.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about my life,” I say. I recall my dad warning me to keep mum on our “problem.” But why couldn’t I tell Millie? It’s not like she would call immigration on us, would she? She’s my friend, and so is Kayla.

“Sure I do. I find most people interesting. You just have to dig a little to get to know someone. Come on. What’s bothering you?”

I decide to take a chance. I can’t keep it bottled up inside anymore, and who knows, maybe Millie can help. She’s a dynamo who owned her own company. Maybe she could help me figure out what to do. “I’ve been invited to go to Washington, D.C.,” I say. “But I probably shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean you shouldn’t? Why are you invited there in the first place? You’re a little too young for office. You’re not secretly planning to take over the world?”

Her words actually make me laugh a little. “It’s not that,” I say. “I just don’t know how I’ll get there.”

I take a deep breath and tell her about the National Scholarship Award and the president’s letter. I tell her how my dreams came true only to be shattered by the discovery that I’m here illegally. “I can’t believe it. My parents hid the truth from us, and my brothers still don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. What am I going to do next year?”

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I get nervous. Can I really trust her? What does she think of me? Why would an elderly Beverly Hills socialite care about an undocumented Filipino girl like me?

Now I feel silly for even thinking about asking her for advice.

Millie wrinkles her forehead like she’s thinking really hard. “But you still want to go to Washington, D.C., for the reception?”

“Yes. But what’s the use? They’ll just laugh me out of the White House.”

“You really think in this day and age, with everything that the presidential administration stands for, that they would just kick you out? A beautiful young girl like you who’s so smart, she got accepted for such a high honor in the first place?”

I shake my head. “There are lots of people who live in detention centers until they’re deported, told to never come back to America. Mom told me a story about one woman who lived here her whole life but was born in Mexico. They deported her for not paying a traffic ticket. And she doesn’t even know Spanish. She got a job working at a telemarketing company because she’s a native English speaker, but her life completely changed. She lost all her friends. Her belongings. Everyone she knew. Now she can never come back to America. We can’t risk it.Ican’t risk it.”

Millie considers this. “I suppose you’re right. This is a dangerous time to be an immigrant. Still, being brave, following through, and meeting the highest politicians in the land might not be a bad idea.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. You should get on that plane. You won that award fair and square.”

I did. Millie’s right. I deserve to go. I worked so hard for it. “Okay.” I feel hopeful for the first time in days. I’m going to make this happen.

Millie smiles and holds up her hand. I’m about to slap her a high five when she looks over at the doorway. Concern passes over her face. I turn around in my seat to see Mom standing in the hallway, quietly sobbing.

Oh no! I run to my mom.

“Neneng,”she says, barely getting the words out. “We have to go.”

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