It’s hard to imagine it’s the same place where I would stand on that breezy balcony and watch the colorful birds fly by.
Dad shuffles into the kitchen, a smile on his face like nothing is wrong.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Clarí’s voice breaks and she swallows.
Dad sighs and runs a hand through his thick curls. “Things in Caracas are...not good. You know already.”
I know that my parents have been sending money to my grandparents for several years. And I know that’s why Clarí had to say no to half the schools she got into in favor of public, in-state tuition, and that there was no discussion of buying me a car on my sixteenth birthday like so many of my friends. But as things have gotten worse, sending money has turned into boxes full of grocery staples, basic household supplies, and finding an American doctor who could help us send Ito his heart medication.
“Is everything okay with Ito?” Clarí asks.
Dad nods and sits down on the stool next to mine. “Everyone’s fine. We just...have some news.” He turns on his stool to face us. “Your mother and I have been working with an immigration lawyer for several months. After this election, we asked her to fast-track everything. We weren’t sure if it would work out, so we wanted to wait until we knew for sure to tell you girls.”
“And?” Clarí asks.
“The lawyer called yesterday. We’ve got their visas.”
“They’re coming to live here?” I ask, leaning on my elbows, like if I get closer to Dad, he’ll have to tell me more. “With us?”
Dad nods.
“When are they getting here?” Clarí asks.
“Day after tomorrow,” he answers. “Plane tickets are already bought.”
Clarí’s eyebrows practically retreat into her hairline. “That’s really soon.” But there’s a lot in that sentence that she’s not saying. Mainly, how long they’ve been hiding this from us.
“Where will they sleep?” I ask.
“In your room,” Mom answers. “You can move your things into Clarísa’s room, and you two can share while she’s home for the summer.”
I nod. My room is bigger and the bathroom is attached. That’s obviously where they should sleep. But Clarí and I have never shared a room. We haven’t shared much, really. I love my sister, but we’re not like TV sitcom sisters. We aren’t really close, but we don’t really fight, either. We’re just...sisters. I’ve felt helpless for so long, watching my parents deal with this. At least I can do something to help.
“I can move my stuff after my last final today,” I say.
“I’ll help,” Clarí adds.
“Are you going down there to help them move?” Ito and Ita are in their eighties now. There’s no way they can pack up all their things by themselves.
Dad gets up from his stool and paces across the kitchen. “A few years ago, it was pretty simple for a citizen to sponsor a family member, especially elderly parents. But these days it’s...different.” I can tell there’s more he wants to say. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s trying not to get worked up into an angry rant.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The lawyer recommended I don’t go there right now.”
“But why? How are they going to move all their things?”
“Don’t be so naive, Val,” Clarí says. “Venezuela’s on the travel ban list.”
I slink back in my chair. “I thought a judge blocked that?”
“Temporarily.” She pushes the rest of the pancakes across the counter. “But they’re still detaining all kinds of people at the airport for no reason.”
“But Dad has his citizenship now.”
“Hasn’t stopped them from bothering anyone else.”
“Clarísa,” Dad says. “Enough.”
I look back and forth from my sister to my dad. “So, who’s going to help them?” I ask, feeling more helpless than ever before. All our relatives in Venezuela moved back to Argentina, where Ita and Ito are originally from, several years ago. And most of our family friends have spread across the world. Everywhere from Miami to Lisbon to Singapore.
“No. They have to leave pretty much everything behind. Walk away from their home. Your sister is right. It won’t be easy for them.”
“No,” I say as I poke at the last bite of pancake. “I guess not.”
Mom nudges my shoulder in the middle of the night—at least it feels like the middle of the night. I groan and roll over in the new twin bed Mom got at Costco. We set it up yesterday, across the room from Clarí’s. We didn’t have time to prewash the sheets, so they still smell kind of like plastic.
“We’re leaving for the airport,” Mom says in a whisper even though everyone in the house is now awake. “We should be back in a couple hours.”
“A text message would have been sufficient,” Clarí whines.
“Oh, no,” Mom says. “I want you girls up and dressed when we get back with your grandparents. You want them to arrive to two zombies just shuffling out of bed instead of their lovely granddaughters? What kind of welcome is that? Come on. Up.” Mom flips the lights on and we both groan. I throw my hand over my face, letting my eyes adjust.
“Evil, evil woman,” Clarí mutters, rolling back over.
“Uh huh,” Mom says, like she’s proud to bear the name. “Just get your butts up and throw on some decent clothes. No pajama pants.”
“Eeeevil.” Clarí kicks the covers off her bed, seemingly in protest.
I sit up and yawn. “Do you need to pee?” I ask my sister.
“Yeah.”
“Well, go now. I’m going to take a shower.”
“No.”
“Okay, but once I get in there, you’re gonna regret that you didn’t go before I got in.”
“No,” she groans again.
“Suit yourself.” I stand up and make my way to the bathroom in the hallway that used to belong to just Clarí, but now is ours. I’d just go take one last shower in my bathroom, but it’s pristine with a new shower
