The place with the rooster on the sign was called El Gallo, fittingly enough. I cleared my throat nervously before walking in, straightening the blouse and skirt I had picked up at the mall the night before specifically for this purpose. I was about to enter when I remembered suddenly to turn and press the lock button on Laura's keys. It did nothing, so I furiously pressed it again, causing her Toyota to beep repeatedly in protest behind me.

Breathe, Marina. You can do this.

I walked in and scanned the half dozen tables of the cute little café that had admittedly gone a little overboard with the rooster theme, knickknacks and tchotchkes on every surface. I straightened my back, trying to look confident and grown-up. I wished I'd worn jeans. Jeans and my favorite brown sweater would have been perfect. I wished—

"Marina?" a woman asked as she stood. She had been sitting alone at a small table behind a laptop. She was wearing an outfit almost comically similar to my own.

"Yes, that's me."

"Lisa Sanchez. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

We sat down together, and I wondered for a second if I was supposed to get up and get a cup of coffee. Although honestly, coffee was the last thing in the world that I wanted.

"So tell me," she began, offering me a warm smile with her chocolate-colored eyes. "Why do you want to go to MIT?"

I swallowed down a sudden dizziness, like the world was moving too fast and too slow at the same time. It was a simple question. And yet it my entire future was tangled up somewhere in the answer. I cleared my throat, nodding a bit too eagerly.

"Well, I love engineering," I began, my voice distorted as it bounced off the high ceiling. "I love robotics. I teach at a computer place. You knew that 'cause it's in my file probably." I wiped my hands, suddenly sweaty, on my skirt. "I love robotics. Wait, I said that already."

"It's okay," she laughed. "Just relax. What do you love about robotics?"

"I love, um..." Why could I not think of one sentence in the English language? "I love the idea of how robotics and transportation can intersect. And how, in the future, we could have robots that, you know, do things..."

I'm drowning. I'm drowning in the ocean. The whale is going to eat me.

"And I love that..."

"Go on," she encouraged, the warm smile not leaving her face.

"I want... Imagine an airplane," I finally choked out. "An airplane that could run on its own wind resistance. And it wouldn't need an engine even, or produce any carbon. It would basically be a big drone. And you could go anywhere in this airplane. And you wouldn't hurt the earth, you wouldn't hurt anything or anybody." I wasn't saying it right.

There's no right way to say it.

I choked down a sudden onslaught of spit, forcing myself to power on. "You could just get from point A to point B without..."

"Yes?"

Adam's face when I told him this story. His bemused smile.

The warmth of his skin.

"You could get from point A to point B..."

"Marina is mine."

Was that the last time I would ever be happy?

Was it worth it?

"Point A to point B without destroying the..."

Something would go wrong. It always does.

"The earth." I couldn't talk anymore. Because I couldn't stop the tears that were forming. I couldn't stop the fire rushing to my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

Pieces around a chessboard.

Are we good people, Adam?

He never answered that question.

Lisa Sanchez didn't seem deterred. Her eyes never wavered from my face. In fact, she smiled. She leaned back a bit and examined me, deciding something.

"I'm so sorry," I continued. "I don't know why I'm crying."

She handed me a napkin to wipe my face. "You're crying because you care."

I laughed lightly, trying to dry my face and realizing that I was probably rubbing eyeliner all over my cheeks.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked. "Before my MIT interview, I was so nervous I threw up." She laughed, her eyes darting up to the distant ceiling with the memory, then landing back on me. "I wanted it so badly, and I didn't know if a place like MIT would ever take someone like me."

I nodded, but I was so embarrassed I could barely look at her. "Why wouldn't they take you? You seem really smart."

"I come from nothing. I'd worked so hard. But what if it wasn't enough?"

I nodded, a fresh wash of tears carrying away whatever was left of my mascara.

"What if I wasn't enough?" she continued.

"And? Were you?"

She smiled. "Only you can decide that."

"I'm so sorry," I said again.

But she leaned in even closer, like she was telling me a secret. "Never apologize for caring, Marina."

The waitress came and asked if I wanted anything, and Lisa Sanchez ordered us two pieces of coffee cake.

**

I decided to walk through town a bit before heading home, letting my feet take me wherever they felt like going. I ended up in front of Graussman's Pharmacy. I couldn't help but lean in to examine the photo of the pin-up girl, but it was faded too much to make out anything but the faintest streak of blonde hair. Everything else about it had been erased by the decades.

Stepping into the store, I headed up to the glass counter, following the same trajectory I had taken when I had pawned the diamond ring.

There was a young woman behind the counter who bore a striking resemblance to Mimi—the same brown, curly hair and ready smile. But she was shorter and her face was a bit longer.

"Hi," I said awkwardly when I saw her.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"Sorry, it's just... you look like a girl I know. Named Mimi."

"Oh, that's funny. That was my great-grandmother's name."

Taken a bit aback, I finally realized that this was a family business. It had never changed hands, not since it had opened almost eight decades before. "Hey," I asked, "could you tell me, did this place use to be pawn shop?"

"A pawn shop?" she asked, smiling. "I mean, maybe like a million years ago. Why?"

"Do you think... do you think anything might be leftover from then?"

It took me a couple of minutes of explaining to Mimi's great-granddaughter that I was looking for something that had been in my family once, something that had been lost for decades. She was reluctant to leave her post at first, but then she seemed to get into the mood for an adventure.

Finally, she asked someone to watch the register for her and led me to a back closet.

"My grandpa used to keep all sorts of family stuff back here. It's a real mess, I should warn you."

"That's okay."

"Let's see... no, just old paperwork. Cleaning supplies. Some old magazines. Uh, here's a cigar box."

"Wait," I stopped her. "What's in the cigar box?"

She blew about a pound of dust off the top of it, and then creaked it open. "Oh my God," she smiled.

"What is it?"

She gently reached inside and picked something out. "It's an old ring. That's crazy."

"Can I see it?"

Holding it up for me to see, she twirled it in the dull overhead light of the closet. "Oh, wait," she said. "There's a note."

I walked further into the closet, trying to peer over her shoulder at the note. She held it up enough for us both to read it. "Do not sell. Owner is coming back."

She laughed, trying to put everything back into the box.

"Can I buy it?" I asked her.

She hesitated a moment, her hands not wavering from the box.

"Oh, come on," I teased. "How long has it been back here?"

"Well," she finally agreed. "I guess the owner's not coming back, is she?"

"I'll give you a hundred dollars for it."

She eyed the box one more time, and then her eyes turned to the wallet I was pulling out of my purse. Finally she opened the box and handed me the ring.

"It's yours."

***

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