“That’s terrible!” I playfully slap him on the arm, then pull him close. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult sometimes.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Royce says, leaning his chin on my shoulder. We’re so close, I can feel his breath against my neck. “You helped me figure out what I want in life. You give me courage to be who I am.”
I start to choke up. His words make me want to cry.
“Oh man,” he says. “My goal was definitely not to make my girlfriend cry on my prom night.”
“Shush,” I say. “Just kiss me.”
* * *
Sunday night, Royce’s dad is in town and we’re supposed to have dinner with his family. I arrive early at the restaurant, since Dad was able to drive me—he had an errand on this side of town. I sit by the chairs in front of the hostess’s desk and wait. A few minutes later, I hear a familiar voice and cringe. It’s Mason, and he has a smug grin on his face.
“Well, if it isn’t my fellow valedictorian,” he says. Royce must have told him. “What, don’t look so surprised. Just because I don’t look like a nerd...”
“Did you give a speech?”
“No, I actually missed my own graduation. I was passed out from a party the night before. My parents were so pissed.” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
He’s such a tool. “How’s USC?” I ask.
“Boring as paint. But the girls are hot. You could give them a run for their money though. What are you doing with my brother anyway? Aren’t you bored yet? Did you know he didn’t learn to read until fourth grade?”
“Why are you so mean to him?” I say, utterly disgusted. What on earth is wrong with this guy? “Royce is your brother.”
“You serious? That idiot is related to me?” he says, getting up to say hello to his parents who’ve just entered the restaurant. “Sit next to me at the table,” he says, as if I would ever do such a thing.
* * *
I stay quiet at dinner. I’m a little shy around Royce’s family after everything that happened with the private bill and the news leak. It’s awkward, but everyone is being polite. Except Mason, who keeps leering at me or laughing obnoxiously in my direction. I can tell that Royce is about to lose it, but is trying to keep the peace.
Mr. Blakely keeps boasting about Royce attending Stanford, and Royce reminds him that I got in too.
Congressman Blakely cuts off a huge chunk of meat from his prime rib. “Never hear anything negative about Stanford, do you. The place is a dream. We’ll get you set up in a real nice apartment too,” he tells Royce.
“I want to live in the dorms, Dad, like everyone else,” says Royce.
“You’re getting him a better place than mine?” Mason frowns.
“Your place is nice,” Debra says. “You’re practically on campus.”
“It’s so slummy in downtown LA,” Mason complains. “I’m getting really tired of that apartment.”
“You’d better not be,” Congressman Blakely says. “We pay good money for your tuition and residence.”
Mason winks at me. “I’m trying hard. But all the foreigners around campus really drag the whole area down.”
Debra looks horrified. “Mason, your grandfather was from Mexico City. And diversity has always been a strength of LA’s.”
“Nice PR, Mom. You sound like some bleeding heart,” Mason snickers.
I get up to go use the restroom. “Excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
Congressman Blakely ignores me. “Mason, did you hear back from Columbia for next year?”
I find a bench near the restrooms and sit for a few minutes, thinking about how I wish I could go somewhere alone with Royce. Just when I’m about to head back, I run into Royce looking for me.
“Let’s go,” he says, as if he’s read my mind.
“You’re walking out on your family dinner?” I ask, shocked.
He doesn’t answer; he just takes my hand, and we walk out of the restaurant and don’t look back.
* * *
The Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier spins in rotating neon pinwheels of greens, blues, purples, and reds against the night sky. You can’t see the alternating red and yellow buckets. You can’t see the people in them, though you can hear everyone’s ecstatic screams from below. The wheel flashes from a pinwheel into a star, pulsating over the ocean, lighting up the tides like the water really is glowing.
Royce and I are sitting on the beach together, still wearing our fancy dinner clothes, staring at the neon. Even though I’m glad we’ve escaped Mason’s toxic company, I worry. What will Royce’s parents think of me for walking out like that? Maybe I shouldn’t hold on to him just because I can. I have to let him go.
It’s not hot or cold here. No breeze at all. Just the sound of the ocean and a sort of stillness, except for all the happenings on the pier.
“I love this place,” Royce says. “There’s something about the Ferris wheel and the ocean right next to each other.” He smiles at me. “Reminds me of when I was little.”
“Yeah, you’ve told me lots of times,” I say, teasing a little.
“I guess I have. But I don’t think I’ve told you why. See, my parents weren’t wrapped up in politics then. Dad was a businessman. He knew politicians, but his focus was more on raising our family. And Mason... There was a time when he wasn’t like that. It might be hard to believe, but he was all right. I see that Ferris wheel, and I remember good times.”
The froth of a wave washes toward us but falls short.
“It’s special, that’s for sure,” he says. “But you’re even more special to me. I want you to know that you’re the love of my life.” His arm around me tightens.
I should let him go, I think, my stomach twisting as my heart beats loudly in my chest. I’m being selfish, holding him to me. But I can’t. “I love you too,” I say, holding him closer.
“So we have to talk about the future,” he says.
“What future?”
“I brought you here so you can understand that there’s a part of me that loves my father even though he isn’t the best father. The part of me that loves my brother, even if he can be a turd.”
I lean my head on Royce’s shoulder. “I do understand. I like your Ferris-wheel story.”
“Me too,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to Mason at dinner. I just didn’t want to blow it up.”
“It’s okay,” I say.
“I was glad you were there. But I’m more glad that you’re here now,” he says.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I say, feeling happier now that we’re alone together.
And then, I’m stunned. Royce stands up and pulls me to stand too. “I was going to do this at prom the other day, but I was too nervous.” He brushes the sand off his pants, then gets down on one knee. He’s holding a little box, and he opens it to show me a diamond ring. “Before she died, my grandmother gave this to me to give to the person I love,” he says. “Jasmine, I love you. More than anything.”
My heart flies out of my chest. It’s spinning around in the neon of the Ferris wheel. It sails from there through the darkness above the clouds.
“Royce! What are you doing!”
“I want you to stay with me always. Will you marry me?”
Now my breath is completely taken away. I’m literally on the verge of passing out. My legs have never felt anything like this. My stomach. My chest. My throat.
“We’re both eighteen now,” he says, knee still in the sand. “We’re in love. And this way you can stay here in America. We can be married and go to Stanford together. You’ll be eligible for all those grants and loans. I want to be with you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. What do you say?” He grins, happy, so beautiful to m
y eyes.
My heart is in my throat. I don’t know what to say. We’re so young, and we’re still so unsure of ourselves, of who we are, who we’re meant to be. What would our families think? And what would happen to my family? Would they be able to stay if I married him?
I know I love him. I can’t sleep at night unless he tells me good-night. I think about him all the time, about his happiness. I can’t imagine life without him. I know why he’s doing this—because he can offer this from the depths of his big, generous heart. He knows this can save me, can fix all our problems. I’ll find a way, he promised. I’m not letting you go. If I were in his place, if I was the one who could do this for him, I would do exactly the same thing he’s doing now.
“Babe,” he says. “Um, I don’t want to rush you, but my knee is starting to hurt.”
I’m on the verge of laughter or tears. I love him so much.
“Say something,” he says. “Before my leg cramps.”
“But how? When?”
“I don’t know. We elope. Right away. Within a day or two.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay. What?” he asks.
“Okay, I will. Yes, Royce, I will marry you, yes,” I say, and I pull him up to stand. We’re crying and laughing.
Royce shakily puts the ring on my finger and we kiss with all those neon lights spinning like luminescent flowers through the night sky.
I love him so much.
I’m going to marry him tomorrow. We’ll be husband and wife, and I’ll be able to stay in the country.
Everything’s going to be all right, isn’t it? It has to be.
44
A woman is like a tea bag—you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.
—ELEANOR ROOSEVELT
AFTER ROYCE DROPS me off at home, I lie awake all night, tossing and turning on my bed, thinking of the possibilities of our future. Royce and I will be together. We’ll have our own home. We’ll get our own things. We’ll both be in school. We’ll help each other every step of the way. Before we know it, both of us will have graduated from college. We’ll have pets, a dog and a cat. I’ve always wanted a dog, but my Mom is allergic. We’ll have a baby at some point—babies. But not so soon. Still, this is everything I wanted. Stanford. A meaningful career. A handsome husband. Two kids. We can have it, can’t we? Even if we get married at eighteen? I’ve seen the statistics—they aren’t good. What if this is a mistake?
What will our families think? What will they do? I can’t imagine Mom and Dad missing my wedding. Will my family be torn apart if I get to stay in America and they don’t? Will this open the door to helping get them back here? I could sponsor them once I’m a citizen. I looked up the law. If I marry Royce, I’m immediately eligible for a green card, and I could be a citizen in three short years.
But what if they don’t forgive me for marrying so young? Or for this reason? I know Dad certainly won’t approve. Will they ever forgive me?
And what about Royce’s parents? They’ll be furious, won’t they? No one from their world gets married at eighteen. Will they blame me for stealing their son? And if they don’t support us, what then? Will we truly be on our own? Does Royce have any money apart from his family? Should I even be thinking about that? It seems wrong.
I can’t sleep. The doubts start to fade, though, when I think about Royce, kneeling in the sand. I’ll never forget that moment. We’ve been through so much together and I don’t want to let him go. I want this. I want to marry him.
I fall asleep to the euphoria that nothing else matters. Only Royce’s love for me. Only my love for him. Who’s the romantic now? “Only us,” I whisper, drifting into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
The only person I tell about the proposal is Kayla. We’re hanging out in her living room the next day. She’s decided on CalArts, and I’m watching her scroll through photos of the residence halls. She’s been there for me and I’ve been there for her, through good and bad. We both know this. So I give it to her straight—Royce and I are eloping.
She sets down her phone and stares at me. “Are you sure about this?”
“I think so,” I say.
“That’s not a hundred percent.”
“Yes it is. I love him one hundred percent and more. But I’m only ninety percent sure I should marry him right now.”
“Ninety percent? Is that good enough?” Kayla wonders.
“Why are you playing devil’s advocate?”
“Because there’s no one else around to be that little voice in your head.”
“What makes you so certain I need one?” I’m annoyed, but I desperately need to talk to someone about this too.
She sits back, sipping from her glass of iced green tea. “Because this is a bigger decision than accepting an invitation to Stanford. Going to college may be life changing, but marriage is really going to change your life. Look at my parents, for one.”
I don’t say anything. I’m surprised by Kayla’s response. I thought she’d be more supportive, think that it was so romantic of us. But instead she’s practical, tough.
“All right,” she says. “Say you go through with it. When? How?”
“The courthouse,” I guess. “Very soon. A day or two. You can be our witness.”
“Great,” she says. “Make me hold the shotgun.”
“He asked me. I’m not making him do this.”
“Maybe not directly,” she says. “But what other choice does he have to keep you? It’s not like that judge has done anything for you. Or that lawyer. Or Royce’s dad. If he wants to keep you with him, asking you to marry him is his only choice.”
She’s right. I’ll fix this, he’d told me. I’ll find a way. This is the only path ahead for us, and it’s a heavy one. This conversation is starting to scare me. I want to be happy about our plans. But Kayla of all people has to go throw a dose of reality in my face.
She puts an arm around me. “This is exciting for you. You feel like a princess. I know—I can see it on your face. And that is the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen. But as your best friend, I just don’t want you to make what could possibly be the biggest mistake of your life.”
“How can it be a mistake? We love each other,” I say hotly, looking at the enormous ring flashing on my right hand. I wanted to show it to Kayla but I hid it from my parents.
“Since when does love mean you have to get married?” She purses her lips like a schoolmarm.
“When it means we’d be worlds apart if we don’t! At least I’ll be in America!”
“But at what expense? You’re both only eighteen. Do you know how many marriages fail because the bride and groom were too young?”
“I know the odds.”
“And it doesn’t scare you?”
“I said I was ninety percent sure, didn’t I? Of course I’m scared!”
“You should be. I just can’t picture you as a married woman right now. Isn’t he the first boy you’ve kissed?”
“Pretty much.”
Kayla crosses her arms smugly. “Have you guys even had sex?” she asks.
“It’s private,” I say, but can’t help but blush, thinking of the plans we’d made for after the courthouse.
“Fine, be that way! Well, think about it, then. He’s the only guy you’re ever going to sleep with. Are you okay with that?”
I nod. “I don’t want anyone else. I want him. Only him. He’s the only one for me, Kay. I know it.”
“But don’t you think you’re both forcing things a little? I know how bad you want to stay. I want you to stay too. But I don’t want you to get married and wake up every morning with so much pressure on your relationship. You’ll only break his heart more if it doesn’t work out in the end. What if you get divorced?”
br /> Oh God. She has a point. We can’t get married this way, can we? I shudder, suddenly cold. Marriages also end in divorce. So many things can happen. Marriage is a huge step, a huge reach. We’re just at the beginning. What if Royce and I think we’re saving our relationship but are actually dooming ourselves? I don’t want that. I want us to have the best chance of forever. “What am I supposed to do, Kayla?” I cry.
“I don’t know yet. Just promise me to wait at least one more day.”
45
Marriage can wait, education cannot.
—KHALED HOSSEINI, A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS
I DON’T CONTACT the media. Mr. Alvarado has bit onto my bluff. “Just a few more days, Ms. de los Santos, if you can wait this long, you can wait a little longer,” he says over the phone. “I have a call in to the judge. I’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible.” But I know he knows I’m not going to talk to any journalists.
For once I don’t care.
I’ve got my own solution. Royce. Marriage. A brand-new life. Three days have passed. Even after my conversation with Kayla, I haven’t changed my mind about marrying Royce. Sure, we’re taking a risk, we’re gambling with our lives, but I’m confident I’m doing the right thing. This is the only way to stay in America and the only way for Royce and I to be together.
I text Kayla to meet us at the courthouse at 1:30 p.m. She hesitantly agrees. It breaks my heart not to have my family there, but at least I have Kayla. I can’t think of anyone better to be there. Except for maybe Millie, whom I haven’t told for fear she might tell my mother. Both of them will find out soon enough anyhow.
Royce picks me up at my house. Mom and Dad are at work, and Danny and Isko are visiting Lola Cherry at her retirement home. I never even used to go to parties, and now I’m sneaking out behind their backs to get married. It’s surreal. I’m wearing a pretty white slip dress I bought at the mall the day before. Royce wears a black suit and tie to match, my handsome groom.
I get inside the car. As I sit down, I lean over and kiss him. He kisses me back, holding my chin gently with his hand. I’m going to remember this moment forever. It’s our wedding day.