If you can’t make it better, you can laugh at it.
—ERMA BOMBECK
DAD GETS OFF the phone with our lawyer.
“What did he say?” Mom asks. She’s working on some work spreadsheets. I feel bad for her. If we’re really going to be deported, then she’ll have to leave her job, which she loves now that she’s been trained.
“I can’t tell if he’s stalling,” Dad says. “He says he’s working on it but then gives me nothing.”
Mom shifts some papers around. “Maybe he’s afraid to tell us the truth.”
I try to play the optimist. “Or maybe he just doesn’t know. Don’t give up,” I say. “Please, Dad, don’t give up.”
We have our first showing of the house this weekend. I keep trying not to think about it, but I have to prepare for the reality that I really might have to leave this country.
* * *
Meanwhile, Millie’s getting better again. She’s breathing a little easier. They let her go home on one condition: she has to have an oxygen mask at all times. She doesn’t seem to mind too much.
Millie must be really bored, though, because she asks me to visit multiple times a week. I’m sitting on the foot of her bed when I ask her about her health. I’m still worried about her.
“Will you have to go back to the hospital?”
“I hope not,” she says. “No guarantees. Any headway on your case?”
“Haven’t heard anything,” I say. “But... I should be hearing any day now from the colleges I applied to. I really want to get into Stanford. But even if I get in, who knows if I’ll be able to go. It’s like the pressure of everything is about to crush me. I feel like the moon is only in the sky because I’m holding it up. And I can’t much longer.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to,” she says. “Just a little longer. Take comfort, Jasmine. Sometimes in the darkest times, a little light shines through.”
* * *
I don’t really feel like being social, but I’m hanging out at Lo’s after visiting Millie because I promised Kayla this favor. All I can think about is our house slipping into the hands of some other American family when it should belong to us. I guess that’s the American dream for you. Your home sold to someone else. Your job filled by another. Your dreams dissipating in a cloud of smoke.
Lo’s sitting on her couch, kicking her red Converses off onto the floor. “So, Jas, you’re coming to the party on Friday, yeah?”
I think of the time I was at one of Lo’s parties and we thought we were being busted by the cops. What does it matter now? I’m getting deported anyway. I tell her that of course I’ll be there with Royce.
Next to her, Julian strings his acoustic guitar. “Yeah,” he says. “You gotta see us one more time.”
“I’m not backing out,” I say, though the feeling of being deported is almost a constant pain in my stomach. “I’ll be there.”
My friends know all about the Politico scandal and that Royce’s dad was trying to help us but when the news leaked, he couldn’t do anything anymore.
“How can you stay with your boyfriend after that?” asks Lo.
Julian turns one of the tuning knobs too far so that his string snaps and hits his fingers. He yelps, then curses. Lo doesn’t even bother to look at him, she’s so used to it.
“It’s not Royce’s fault,” I say. “Although it is a little awkward with his parents right now.”
“Just promise you’ll be at my party,” Lo says.
“I will. Promise. But there was this thing I was wondering about.”
“What?” Lo asks.
“It’ll be kind of weird, but I have to ask. Can Kayla come?”
“Her?” Lo asks. “I don’t know about that—it’s not like I don’t like her. Don’t get me wrong. But Dylan’s my friend. I don’t want to put him in that kind of situation.”
“Now just wait a minute,” Julian says. “Shouldn’t it be up to Dylan?”
“I guess so,” Lo says, backing down.
“I’ll talk to him.” Julian sets his guitar down. “He’s in the backyard. Be right back.”
After Julian walks out of the room, I ask Lo, “How are things going with you guys? You seem inseparable. I don’t think there’s ever a time I come over that he’s not hanging out with you.”
“We’re going to move in together after graduation,” she says. “Or maybe I can convince him to explore with me. Travel the world. Just live. You ever thought about that? Just experiencing as much as you can?”
I hadn’t thought about that at all. I can’t even imagine bringing that up to my parents. Am I too driven? I guess I’m not like other American kids in some ways.
“No,” I laugh. “I’m looking forward to college. Even if I do have to go in the Philippines.”
“You know, I have to say I’m a little excited to see what happens to you. In my opinion, Jasmine, whether you go to college or move back to the Philippines, you’re going to win either way.”
“How’s that?” I say. “It’s not what I want.”
“I know it’s not. But in my fantasy world I think, hey, you get to see some of the world. Look where you’ll be. You’ll see places most of us only dream of. And with your experiences and knowledge, you could still be whatever you were driven to become. Only now, when you’re a big lawyer or whatever you end up being, you’ll have an entirely different perspective on things. It’s really not as bad if you think of it that way.”
“I’ll have to digest all of that,” I say. This is what I like about Lo. She makes me think differently, consider other options. “To be honest, I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”
Julian returns. We both wait for him to say something. In typical Julian style he sits and starts tinkering with his guitar without telling us what Dylan said.
“Julian,” Lo says.
He looks up. “What?”
“What did Dylan say?”
“Oh yeah. He said it’s cool. He doesn’t care. Or—I mean, I think he cares about her, but he’s pretending not to. You know? It’s a guy thing.”
Lo playfully slaps him on the shoulder. “Was that so hard?”
“I forgot, all right? We started talking about tour stuff.” Julian smiles.
“Like what?”
“Like how Jasmine is going to hook us up with gigs in the Philippines once she gets the boot.”
We all start laughing. It’s kind of funny, imagining their band playing some big party in Manila. They would look so out of place.
“I’m serious!” Julian says.
“I know,” I say. “At least you’re planning to come visit me.”
* * *
That weekend Royce takes me to his parents’ house in Malibu, just the two of us, and it’s just as romantic as it sounds. My parents don’t try to stop me. They know I’m with him. They seem resigned to the fact that I have a life outside our house and a boyfriend.
We decide to grill on the deck overlooking the ocean and as I watch the hamburgers cook, it strikes me how different Royce’s life will be from mine if I have to move back to the Philippines. Thinking of what Lo said earlier, I tell him I’ll take him swimming in the pristine aquamarine waters of Boracay, or rafting down the Puerto Princesa Subterreanean River, or hiking up the emerald green Banaue Rice Terraces.
I try to remind myself to not be so negative about my native country. Despite the poverty and the government corruption, the Philippines is a place of such natural beauty. Reminding myself of these things helps me face the fact that I may be leaving the United States right after graduation.
“Look, Jas, I’ll come to the Philippines for sure,” he says. “But it won’t be because you’ll be living there. We’ll go together, because I want to see the country where you were born. And I’ll be taking you back home to America.”
I don’t disagree, because I know it makes him too upset to even think about the alternative. Also, I don’t want him to burn the hamburgers. Instead, I put my arms around his back. He turns around to face me and we start kissing, getting a little carried away as usual.
The hamburgers burn. Oops.