“Meeting your obligations is the definition of adulthood, kid. If you’re going to make mistakes and break promises, now’s the time.”
He stops talking, flexes his wrist, and grimaces. “Get your screwing up done now, when the consequences aren’t so bad. Trust me. It gets harder to do it later.”
Sometimes people tell you things by not telling you things. I glance at his left hand and see his wedding ring.
“Is that what happened to you?” I ask.
He unsteeples his fingers and twists the ring around his finger. “I’m a married man with two kids.”
“And you’re having an affair with your paralegal.”
He rubs at the bandage above his eye. “It just started today.” He looks over to his closed door, as if he’s hoping she’ll be standing right there. “Ended today too,” he says quietly.
I didn’t actually expect him to admit it, and now I’m not sure what to say.
“You think I’m a bad guy,” he says.
“I think you’re my interviewer,” I answer. Maybe it’s better for us to just get this interview back on course.
He covers his eyes with his hands. “I met her too late. I’ve always had lousy timing.”
I don’t know what to tell him. Not that he’s looking to me for advice. Ordinarily I would say follow your heart. But he’s a married man. His heart is not the only one involved.
“So what are you gonna do? Let her go?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long time, thinking. “You’re going to have to do the same,” he says finally.
He pulls Natasha’s file from under his elbow. “I couldn’t do it. I thought I could, but I couldn’t.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Stop her deportation.”
He’s going to have to spell it out for me, because I’m not processing what he’s saying. “Your Natasha is getting deported tonight after all. I couldn’t stop it from happening. The judge wouldn’t overturn the Voluntary Removal.”
I don’t know what a Voluntary Removal is, but all I can think is that there’s a mistake. It’s definitely a mistake. Now I’m hoping it really is a different Natasha Kingsley.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he says. He slides the file across to me, as if my looking at it is somehow going to help. I flip it open. It’s some sort of official form. All I see is her name: Natasha Katherine Kingsley. I didn’t know her middle name. Katherine. It suits her.
I shut the file and slide it back to him. “There has to be something you can do.”
The finger steeple is back and he shrugs. “I’ve tried everything already.”
The shrug pisses me off. This is not a small thing. This isn’t Oh, you missed your appointment. Come again tomorrow. This is Natasha’s life. And mine.
I stand up. “You didn’t try hard enough,” I accuse him. I’m willing to bet the affair with his secretary has something to do with this. I bet he’s spent the day breaking promises to his wife and children. And to Natasha too.
“Look, I know you’re upset.” His voice is even, like he’s trying to calm me down.
But I don’t want to be calm. I press my hands into his desk and lean forward. “There has to be something you can do. It’s not her fault her dad is such a fuck-up.”
He slides his chair back from the desk. “Sorry. Homeland Security doesn’t like it if you overstay your visa.”
“But she was just a kid. She didn’t have a choice. It’s not like she could’ve said Mom, Dad, our visa is expired. We should go back to Jamaica now.”
“Doesn’t matter. The law has to draw a line somewhere. Their last appeal was denied. The only hope was the judge. If they leave tonight, then there’s a slight chance she can reapply for a visa in a few years.”
“But America is her home,” I shout. “It doesn’t matter where she was born.” I don’t say the rest of it, which is that she belongs with me.
“I wish there was something I could do,” he says. He touches the bandage above his eye again and seems genuinely sorry. Maybe I’m wrong about him. Maybe he really did try.
“I’m planning on calling her after you and I are done here,” he says.
After we’re done. I’ve completely forgotten that this meeting is supposed to be about me getting into Yale. “You’re just going to call her and tell her over the phone?”
“Does it matter how she hears it?” he asks, frowning.
“Of course it matters.” I don’t want her to hear the worst news of her life over the phone from someone she barely knows. “I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll tell her.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t let you do that. It’s my job.”
I just sit there not knowing what to do. My lip throbs. The spot on my ribs where Charlie punched me hurts. The place in my heart where Natasha is hurts.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he says again.
“What if she doesn’t get on the plane? What if she just stays?” I am desperate. Breaking the law seems a small price to pay to get her to stay.
Another head shake. “I don’t recommend that. As a lawyer or otherwise.”
I have to get to her and tell her first. I don’t want her to be alone when she hears the news.
I walk out of his office and into the empty reception area. The paralegal didn’t come back.