Page 252

He marks the page.

Astrid is already back in the first office when I return, the blue folder under her hands and the same empty space between our chairs.

The officer sits.

“You gave consistent answers on the household details. Ms. Nilsson identified your mother as Joan, your birthplace as Bandera, and your toothbrush as black. She also told me you hum when you do the dishes and can’t carry a tune.” He turns the page. “I didn’t ask her that.”

I glance at Astrid. She doesn’t look at me.

“The rest matches too. How it started, who proposed, her saying no, her asking you later, living together, and why you’re apart now.”

Astrid’s chin lifts slightly.

“You were both upfront that immigration was a substantial part of why you got married.”

Nobody moves.

“I have what I need from you today. If additional evidence or another interview is required, you’ll receive notice in writing.”

That’s it.

No approval. No denial.

We stand. Astrid puts the folder beneath her arm, I hold the door, and she walks through it ahead of me.

At the elevators, she presses the button. We stand beside each other while the numbers change above the doors.

Then she looks at me.

“What did he ask you?”

“A lot.”

“I assumed.”

“Apparently my toothbrush is federal business.”

She doesn’t smile.

“What did you say?”

“Black.”

“I know that.”

“Good. We passed one. He asked what I thought would happen after this was over.”

Astrid looks at me.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I expected us to stay married.”

“You expected that?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”