by Kelly Yang
The side door opened, and José walked in. He was wearing a suit, which Hank and my mom had brought from his house. It looked good on him. José walked over to us, smiling and reaching out to Lupe. The two of them hugged and hugged. It must have felt so good to finally touch her dad after all these weeks and not have the glass partition separating them. José shook hands with Hank and my dad.
“All rise!” the bailiff called. I looked up and saw a tall man in a black robe walk in.
We all stood up.
Judge Hughes was just how I imagined him to be: old, white, and serious, just like the judges on the afternoon TV shows. He had the kind of poker face that my dad said made it hard to tell whether a person was going to check out early or check out late.
As Ms. Patel presented José’s case, using terms like cancellation of removal and deferred action status, Judge Hughes neither nodded nor frowned.
“This is a man who has contributed substantially to the California economy,” Ms. Patel said, nodding at José. “With the money he and his wife earned, they put it right back into their home state, investing in a motel in Anaheim, California.”
Ms. Patel approached the bench to hand Judge Hughes the purchase papers for the motel as well as the letter from Mrs. Welch, attesting to the fact that Lupe was in school in Anaheim and that she was doing wonderfully well, showing particular promise in math and art.
“Deporting this man would mean separating him from his only child,” she said. Lupe’s chin trembled as she listened to Ms. Patel describe the possibility of tearing her dad away from her. I looked over at her and felt my own eyes watering. José turned around and held his daughter as she cried. There was a collective awwwwin the room, and I turned around to see people in the audience dabbing their eyes and struggling to control their own emotions, including my mom and dad.
“For these reasons, we strongly urge this court to cancel José Garcia’s deportation,” Ms. Patel said. “We have the support of Senator Diane Feinstein, four assembly members, and one state senator, as well as a petition signed by over nine hundred people.”
Ms. Patel handed over the stack of paper with all the signatures we’d gathered, and Judge Hughes took some time to look over it all. I scrutinized his face for signs, reading into every nose twitch and blink.
“Thank you,” the judge finally said. He turned to the other side. “Does opposing counsel have anything they would like to add?”
The lawyer on the other side stood up.
“I would beg your honor to please think about the precedent we are setting here. The law is the law. While the circumstances are very moving and we are grateful to Mr. Garcia for his labor and work, if we allow Mr. Garcia to stay, then what about the next illegal immigrant? And the next? We must honor the law, even if it is difficult, or the law becomes meaningless.”
Lupe squeezed my hand. I looked over at José, who was staring down into his miraculous cable-repairing hands. We were really going to need a miracle now.
As Judge Hughes cleared his voice to deliver his verdict, we all leaned forward and held our breaths.
“Thank you, counselors, for your speeches. This is not an easy case. It weighs upon me heavily to tear a father away from a child or to turn a blind eye to a violation of our laws. I would like to reiterate to all in this room, it is a violation of United States law to enter this country illegally. For those reasons, I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny the cancellation of removal.”
The courtroom erupted. “This is outrageous!” Hank shouted.
“I’m not finished!” Judge Hughes shouted. “ORDER IN THE COURT!”
As Judge Hughes banged his gavel and demanded we all settle down, Lupe looked over at me. I could see the hope drain from her eyes. The pain broke my heart into a thousand pieces.
“Opposing side is right to say that if we ignore the law,” Judge Hughes went on, “the law becomes meaningless. So I cannot cancel the order of removal today, I’m afraid. However.” He paused for a beat, during which the entire room stopped breathing. Lupe glanced up. She put her hands together, sitting on the edge of her seat. “The law also requires that we weigh the totality of circumstances. And while it is true that Mr. Garcia broke the law, he has also committed no crimes while he has been here. He has been here for eight years and made this state his home. He has worked hard and raised a daughter, for whom it would be a tragedy to separate from her father, or to pull her from her home base here in the great state of California.”
My heart lurched to my throat as I leaned in. Does that mean … ?
“And so it is that I am granting Mr. Garcia a temporary stay of removal. Mr. Garcia, you are free to go home with your daughter until such time as this court decides to reopen and reevaluate your immigration case. This court is adjourned.” And with that, Judge Hughes brought down his gavel again.
“OH MY GOD!” Lupe exclaimed, throwing her arms around her dad. “Papi! Did you hear that?”
All the weeklies and my parents cheered as José shook Ms. Patel’s hand and gave her a hug, his voice choking with emotion as he thanked her and asked if she needed any help with her cable.
“I’m good,” Ms. Patel replied, chuckling. She turned to us, serious. “I know we didn’t get exactly what we wanted on the first try. But trust me, guys, this is a huge step in the right direction. José isn’t going anywhere, and in six months, when we come back to present our case, I’m going to hit them with everything I’ve got.” She looked into José’s eyes. “I’m going to fight for you, and I’m not going to stop until you and your family get to stay for good.”
As Judge Hughes got up from the bench to leave the room, we all turned to him. I raised my hand. This time, I didn’t wait to be called on.
“Thank you, Judge,” I called out. Judge Hughes looked over at us and nodded.
Lupe’s mom cried when she heard her husband’s voice on the phone. It was the first time they’d spoken since José had been arrested. José told her the good news, along with Ms. Patel’s advice that Lupe’s mom stay in Mexico until the new court date. There was a good chance the judge would grant his cancellation of removal at the next court hearing, and if so, she could come back legally.
Still, six months was a long time. As Lupe struggled with the thought of not seeing her mom for six more months, my dad had an idea. He suggested Lupe and José move into one of the rooms at the Calivista.
“Can we, Dad?” Lupe asked.
“Well …” José hesitated. “It’s still going to be hard without your mom.”
I slipped my hand in Lupe’s and smiled at José.
“But at least you’ll be surrounded by family.”
We had a party the next day in the Kids for Kids club. I brought cans of cream soda from the vending machine in my backpack, and Lupe brought chips. As I passed them out, Jason came up and congratulated Lupe.
“I’m so glad they let your dad stay!” he said, throwing his arms around her.
“It’s just for now,” she told him as she hugged him back. “But thanks.”
I could tell she was trying to manage her expectations, but in my mind, it was practically a done deal.
“Trust me, we’re gonna win for good in six months,” I said confidently.
Lupe grinned. “If that happens, we’re definitely going to Disneyland!”
We started giggling uncontrollably, then stopped when we saw Jason’s face. He was staring down at his shoes. I noticed he’d recently switched from wearing pricey Air Jordans to plain gray Converses. “I hope my parents let me go,” he said. “My cooking classes are already kind of expensive, though.…”
I had an idea. “If they don’t, I know a park where we can watch the Disneyland fireworks. It’d be just like we’re at Disneyland—and it’s totally free!”
Jason’s face brightened. “That sounds great! I can make us a picnic!” He smiled at Lupe. “Congratulations again,” he said. “I don’t know how you stayed so strong at the trial. If it were me, I would have crumble
d.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I said.
Jason wriggled uncomfortably. “My dad makes all the money in our house. If they ever took him … I don’t know what we’d do.”
Get a job? But I didn’t say that. Instead, I looked into his eyes and told him what Hank said about me. “You’re stronger than you think, Jason Yao.”
Jason smiled.
Later in class, Mrs. Welch wrote a math question on the board:
A man bought a bicycle for $50. He made $28 worth of improvements on it. He can sell his improved bicycle for $86. Assuming he wants to make the most profit, should he sell his bicycle, and how much profit can he make?
Lupe raised her hand. I smiled. Ever since she got back, she’s been on fire, answering question after question.
“Yes, Lupe?” Mrs. Welch said.
“Besides selling his bike, can he rent it out?” she asked.
My classmates put their pencils down. I could see the lightbulb going off in their heads, like, Oh, yeahhhh!
“That’s a very good question,” Mrs. Welch said. She thought it over and declared, “Let’s assume yes, he can rent out the bike for … thirty dollars a day.”
“Then I think he should keep it. Thirty dollars a day is a lot of money,” Lupe said, glancing at me. “You can get yourself a nice room at our motel for that, right, Mia?”
I beamed. It was the first time she called it our motel, not just in the club but in class. “Yup!” I said.
“And if he rents it twice a day, that’s sixty dollars!” Lupe added.
“Or ninety dollars if he rents it three times!” Stuart jumped in.
“One hundred twenty dollars if he rents it four times!” I added.
Dillon Fischer, who always had to have the last word, chimed in, “Seven hundred twenty dollars if he rents it out every hour!”
Mrs. Welch held up her hands. “All right, all right, I get the idea.” She chuckled. She had a lot more patience than in the beginning of the school year. “What can I say? You guys are a smart bunch,” she said, smiling.
As we walked home from school, I complimented Lupe on her quick thinking.
“Thanks,” she said. “I wish there was some way we could rent our rooms out twice a day.”
“That would be amazing. We could make twice as much money.” I giggled. “But rooms aren’t bikes. People have to sleep through the night. And there’s only one night, so …”
Lupe thought about that, then asked, “What if we added more beds?”
She was joking, right? But she had this look on her face, the same look my mom got whenever she spotted a really good deal on jasmine rice when we went to 99 Ranch. “No, think about it! We have thirty rooms, right?”
“Right.…”
“And we’re charging twenty dollars a night. What if we split them or put bunk beds in the rooms and charged people ten dollars a night?” Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth. “That’s how we can get the profits back up!!”
“You want to put bunk beds in all the rooms?” I asked. I wasn’t so sure if that was such a good idea.
Lupe sat down on the curb and pulled out her pencil case and her drawing pad—and started drawing out math! I watched as Lupe sketched out all thirty Calivista rooms, each with two sets of bunk beds in them, and jotted down numbers next to them.
“So you’re saying if we put bunk beds in the rooms, we could have four beds per room and charge people ten dollars a bed, instead of twenty dollars. Let’s see, four times ten … that’s forty dollars a room, instead of twenty dollars,” I said. Holy cow.
My eyes bulged—that would double the profit! I stared back at Lupe, who looked totally relaxed, just sitting there kicking it on the curb, squinting at the sun, like it was an ordinary day and she hadn’t just come up with a way to completely transform our business!
“You are a genius!” I said to Lupe, jumping to my feet and pulling her up.
The two of us ran all the way back to the motel.
When Hank heard Lupe’s plan, he clapped his hands.
“It’s brilliant, just brilliant!” he said.
We sat in the living room of the manager’s quarters while my dad crunched the numbers on his calculator. “But how are we going to afford all the bunk beds?” he asked.
Hank grinned and reached for the phone. “This is exactly why I got the line of credit! Precisely for moments like this!”
As Hank waited on the line for the banker, my mom rubbed her hands excitedly together. “Just think, if we truly doubled our profits, maybe we’d finally have enough money to hire someone to help us clean. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
A whimsical smile played on my dad’s lips as he reached a hand to his achy shoulder.
The day before Thanksgiving, the delivery guys carried the beds inside the rooms as Billy Bob and Fred helped my parents change the price on the big sign overhead from $20/night to $10/night.
“At those rates, you can’t afford not to stay here,” Hank said with a hearty laugh, admiring the sign.
“Remember, this will only work if we pack them in,” Lupe reminded us. “If we only put one or two people in a room, it won’t work. We need volume, people!”
I smiled at her. Spoken like a real businesswoman.
Lured by our bright neon sign, the new customers came in droves. They were students, immigrants, young couples traveling on a budget, and truck drivers who just needed a place to crash for a few hours before they hit the road again. We packed them four to a room, just as Lupe had envisioned.
By the end of the long weekend, Mr. Cooper and the other investors were happy that the profits were up again, and my dad even asked me to write a HELP WANTED sign and put it on the window. I sat at the front desk, drawing with a ruler and a black permanent marker. When I was done, I went out the back to show my dad the sign.
I found him in the laundry room, sitting next to the pyramid of crushed recycling cans he was sorting—now that there were more customers, there were a LOT more soda cans too. In his lap were the books that he had borrowed from the library.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, smiling down at his books. Maybe now that he could get some help with the cleaning, he’d finally have time to go through the books. “Are you studying to be a lab technician?”
My dad chuckled. “Nope. I’m just looking at these one last time before I return them,” he said.
“Return them? Why?”
He gestured toward the piles and piles of dirty towels scattered around the laundry room, as if to say, That’s why.
“But we’re going to hire someone to help with all of that,” I told him. I held up my new HELP WANTED sign.
My dad smiled and said the sign looked great. Then he patted the small wooden stool next to him. I took a seat.
“Even if we hire someone else, it’s still not enough for your mom and me to both go after our dreams,” he said with a sigh. “Sometimes in families, you can only choose one.”
He reached down and touched the cover of his lab technician certificate book with his calloused hands one last time, before reluctantly putting it away.
“And I’m choosing your mom’s.”
When my dad got back from the library, he had a new book, which he gently placed in my mom’s lap. She was in the middle of making a bunch of new keys for all the additional customers. My mom was so shocked when she saw the book, she nearly made a key out of her sweater.
High School Math Licensing Exam, it said on the spine.
“I was thinking with the additional cleaning staff, we don’t both have to clean all day,” my dad said. “I think you should go for it. You’re an amazing teacher!”
My mom was speechless. She got up and hugged my dad as the keys in her lap fell on the floor.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, tearfully. “Even if I don’t pass the exam—”
My dad put his hands on my mom’s arms. “Oh, you’ll pass,” he chuckled. He turned to me and asked, “Have you ever seen your mom no
t accomplish what she put her mind to?”
I thought of all the little things my mom did to get what she wanted—the fake shopping bags, the free sample perfumes, the beet juice she dabbed on her lips when she couldn’t afford lipstick. My mom always found a way.
“You’ll pass, Mom,” I said.
She laughed and gave us both a big hug.
“Are you ready?” Lupe asked.
It was the big day we’d all been waiting for—the official grand opening of the Calivista Hostel Motel! Even though technically we’d been open for a week already, today was the day of our official grand opening, and we were inviting all our investors and old customers to come celebrate.
I nodded and told Lupe I’d be right there—as soon as I finished hanging up the last of the framed copies of my Letter to the Editor on the wall. There was one in each of the guest rooms, along with framed copies of Lupe’s landscapes. But the room I was the proudest of hanging up my published writing was in the laundry room, where I knew my dad spent the most time. I wanted him to be able to look up at my writing every night as he folded the towels. He wasn’t just picking my mom’s dreams. He was picking mine too.
Lupe and Jason were in the manager’s quarters when I got back. Lupe was in a brand-new yellow dress that José got her from Sears, and Jason was wearing a chef’s apron and hat. He was the official caterer today, and he was making one of his new recipes that he’d learned from his cooking class. Jason ran around my mom’s kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the hors d’oeuvres for the big party like a real chef.
“Mango pot stickers!” he announced proudly, presenting us with a plate of sweet and tangy dumplings fried to golden perfection. I took a dumpling and bit into it. The gooey mango melted in my mouth.
“Jason, this is delicious!” I said.
He smiled. Outside, the guests were starting to arrive. Lupe and I each grabbed a plate of dumplings and headed out.
