“But he said he could do it,” I insist.
He squeezes my hand and tries to pull me closer, but I resist. I don’t want to be comforted. I want to understand.
I back away from him. “Are you sure? Why were you even talking about me?”
He wipes a hand down his face. “There was all this weird shit going on with him and his paralegal, and your file was just on his desk.”
“That still doesn’t explain—”
He grabs my hand again. I pull it away forcefully this time. “Stop! Just stop!” I yell.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and lets me go.
I take another step back. “Just tell me what he said exactly.”
“He said the deportation order stands and that it’s better if you and your family leave tonight.”
I turn away and listen to my voice mail. It’s him—Attorney Fitzgerald. He says that I should call him. That he has unfortunate news.
I hang up and stare at Daniel mutely. He starts to say something, but I just want him to stop. I want the whole world to stop. There are too many moving parts that are outside of my control. I feel like I’m in an elaborate Rube Goldberg contraption that someone else designed. I don’t know the mechanism to trigger it. I don’t know what happens next. I only know that everything cascades, and that once it starts it won’t stop.
Hearts don’t break.
It’s just another thing the poets say.
Hearts are not made
Of glass
Or bone
Or any material that could
Splinter
Or Fragment
Or Shatter.
They don’t
Crack Into Pieces.
They don’t
Fall Apart.
Hearts don’t break.
They just stop working.
An old watch from another time and no parts to fix it.
WE’RE SITTING NEXT TO THE fountain and Daniel’s holding my hand. His suit jacket is around my shoulders.
He really is a keeper. He’s just not mine to keep.
“I have to go home,” I say to him. It’s the first thing I’ve said in over half an hour.
He pulls me close again. I’m finally ready to let him. His shoulders are so broad and solid. I rest my head on one. I fit there. I knew it this morning, and I know it now.
“What are we going to do?” he whispers.
There’s email and Skype and texts and IMs and maybe even visits to Jamaica. But even as I think it, I know I won’t let that happen. We have separate lives to lead. I can’t leave my heart here when my life is there. And I can’t take his heart with me when his whole future is here.
I lift my head from his shoulder. “How was the rest of the interview?”
He touches my cheek and then tilts my head back down. “He said he’d recommend me.”
“That’s great,” I say, with absolutely no enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” he says, enthusiasm level matching mine.
I am cold but I don’t want to move. Moving from this spot will start the chain reaction that ends with me on a plane.
Another five minutes go by.
“I really should go home,” I say. “Flight’s at ten.”
He pulls out his phone to check the time. “Three hours to go. Are you all packed up already?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go with you,” he says.
My heart makes a leap. For a crazy second I think he means he’ll go with me to Jamaica.
He sees the thought in my eyes. “I mean to your house.”
“I know what you meant,” I snap. I am resentful. I am ridiculous. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. My parents are there and I have too much to do. You’ll just get in the way.”
He raises himself up and holds out his hand for mine. “Here’s what we’re not going to do. We are not going to argue. We are not going to pretend that this isn’t the worst thing on earth, because it is. We’re not going to go our separate ways before we absolutely have to. I’m going with you to your parents’ house. I’m going to meet them, and they’re going to like me, and I’m not going to punch your dad. Instead, I’m going to see whether you look more like him or your mom. Your little brother will act like a little brother. Maybe I’ll finally get to hear that Jamaican accent you’ve been hiding from me all day. I’m going to look at the place where you sleep and eat and live and wish I’d known just a little sooner that you were right here.”
I start to interrupt, but he continues talking. “I’m going with you to your house, and then we’re going to take a cab to the airport, just the two of us. Then I’m going to watch you get on a plane and feel my heart get ripped out of my fucking chest, and then I’m going to wonder for the rest of my life what could’ve happened if this day hadn’t gone just exactly the way it’s gone.”
He stops to take a breath. “Is that okay with you?” he asks.
SHE SAYS YES. I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’ll never be ready to say it. I take her hand and we start walking toward the subway in silence.
She’s wearing her backpack on one shoulder and I can see the DEUS EX MACHINA print again. Was it really just this morning that we met? This morning that I wanted to blow wherever the wind took me? What I wouldn’t give for God to really be in the machine.
Headline: Area Teen Defeats Immigration and Customs Enforcement Division of the Department of Homeland Security, Lives Happily Ever After with His One True Love Thanks to This One Weird Legal Loophole No One Considered Until the Last Minute and Now We Will Have a Chase Scene to Stop Her from Getting on the Plane.