Page 92 of The Forbidden Center

Elena waits. She does not tell me to breathe.

I like her for that.

“A new qualifying employer can file for me before the period ends.”

“Yes. A new employer-sponsored filing is the cleanest route if you find the right position.”

I open the folder I brought. The first page is a table. Employer, position, contact, date submitted, response, sponsorship. The last column has become the only one on the page.

“Nine applications are active. Maren has spoken to two medical directors, Guerra wrote to the hospital network, and Walt’s reference is attached to every one of them.”

Elena reads it. “Responses?”

“Two will not sponsor. One wants a second interview and will not discuss immigration before an offer. The university says its approval process may take months. The rest have acknowledged receipt.”

“This is good work.”

“It has not produced a petitioner.”

“Not yet.”

I dislike the phrase, because it asks hope to behave like evidence.

She taps the sponsorship column once. “Your reputation gets you read. It gets people to return your calls. It doesn’t make an employer willing or able to file.”

“I have noticed.”

“I’m not saying stop.”

“Good.”

“I’m saying we build a second route while you keep working the first.”

I turn to a clean page. “Sweden.”

“Sweden’s a real route. You and Tova can leave before the period runs out, and you wouldn’t be violating your status.”

“My mother has a room. Tova is a citizen. I can reactivate my registration.”

“How long would that take?”

“Longer than my mother believes, and less time than rebuilding here.”

Elena nods as though both estimates belong in the same file. “Then keep it active.”

I write SWEDEN underneath SPONSOR, and the word looks orderly in capital letters.

My piano going out of the apartment. Tova’s books divided between luggage and boxes. The green desk staying pencil on paper. My mother at arrivals in practical shoes with a face that will be working hard not to look relieved.

Sweden is not exile. It is home in a language I no longer use for every part of myself.

Elena folds her hands on the legal pad. “There’s another question I need to ask.”

“That sentence has never improved a meeting I have attended.”

“Are you in a genuine relationship with a United States citizen?”

My pen stops.