Two months left with you.
Nick nods solemnly. “And, uh, did you hear back from the grad school you applied to?”
Even he knows how hopeless it’d be to try getting hired as an international student here.
“Washtenaw U? Nope.” I pop the P, sipping the over-salted broth from the ladle so my mouth has something to do while I ruminate. “Their acceptance deadline has already passed,andthe other program in Chicago already turned me down. I’m such anidiotfor only applying to two schools.”
“No, you aren’t,” Nick says firmly. “If you want to stay, is there something you could apply for that’d let you just, like, exist? Without working?”
The laugh I release is drier than the air outside. “Yeah, a touristvisa.” My mind goes to the month-long wait times for a visa interview at the Shanghai consulate. “That’d take ages to organize, and I’d end up sitting around burning cash on rent and stuff.”
“Shit.” He runs a hand along his forehead. “What are we gonna do?”
“I’ll start my job and hope I pass probation?” I mentally kick myself when Nick’s face falls. “Look, I’m just being a little realistic, and grad school is a good career move in my field. I can try applying here again when applications open back up.”
“And you’d get back in how long—two years?” Nick grumbles. His expression is pensive, and I’m not sure what kind of scheme he’s cooking up. I’m the one who knows the US immigration system, and— “Say the word and I’ll get on one knee.”
I recoil,physically, and I’m so surprised, I don’t care about how rude it looks. “You can’t do that,” I say immediately, before checking myself. “I know where you’re coming from, but it isn’t practical. The government would ask for a shit ton of proof we don’t have.”
He cocks his head, one of his signature cheeky grins spreading across his lips. “How long does that proof have to span? I’m sure we can make evidence quickly if we try.”
I scoff. “Are you suggesting we falsify?—”
“It’s not falsification if our relationship is real,” he counters. “I’ll get our friends to follow us around and take candid pictures of us being couple-y, we can text each other more instead of calling so we have screenshots to show the case agents…”
“Nick.” I chuckle, and he stops in his tracks like he always does when I say his name. “We’ll be fine. And you know I want to come back, and it’ll be easier for me to join you if I do things properly.”
What I don’t add is that inventing evidence to support a sponsorship petition is grounds for getting kicked out permanently. I think he gets the idea.
He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. “Right, yeah. I just… I just wish it was easier for you to stay.”
“You and me both,” I mutter. “Tell you what—it’s a long shot,but I’ll send a letter of continued interest to Washtenaw in case they’re still looking at applications.”
The way Nick’s face lights up solidifies the tentative plan in my mind, which is almost enough to erase the practical, annoying doubt in my core. I can’t place all of my hopes on one option, especially since I have no idea if it’ll even work, but I’ve felt powerless for ages.
So I’ll take a shot, even if it only ends up meaning I tried my best.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NICK
The sun’s out. Yay. That totally isn’t doing anything at all to lift the dismal mood in Dean’s apartment.
That damn, dull cloud has been hanging over me for the past few days since his company emailed him.
“It’s easier if I start offloading stuff now,” he says, stuffing his thick duvet into a box. “There’s no point in trying to sell stuff after finals when there’s nobody on campus.”
“Makes sense.” I stare at the largest box on the floor, calculating whether it’s big enough to fit me, before I remember that Dean’s trying to travel light.
The boxes are for the things he’s getting rid of, and I don’t want to include myself in that. I don’t want to assist in forging my own continued fate, where everyone in my life leaves me behind in the dust.
“Do you need any help?” The reason for asking is because I don’t want to be a total asshole, even though the last thing I want to do is make it any easier for my boyfriend to leave me behind to who knows what—there’s exactly zero information on Jack Nowak’s trial, probably because the whole case is highly classified, so I’m in limbo.
We’re both in limbo, even if it doesn’t feel like it with how quickly Dean’s getting ready to leave.
Grad schools can go get fucked for setting such early application deadlines. Dean can’t apply to any program with a fall start date, especially since he’s limited in terms of programs that would even look at his application in the first place. He’s buffeted on both sides: China thinks he’s a national security risk for studying here,and the US thinks he’s a national security risk because of where he’s from. It’s bullshit, and as for me, even if Iwaseligible to do some kind of master’s degree for physical therapy in China, their deadlines have all passed, too.
All in all, things aren’t looking up for us, but we push on.
