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By the Balls
Eleni Something thuds upstairs, and even though we know it’s probably one of the other families in the building, Mama and I spook and scurry out. She nearly drops the keys as she locks the back door behind us, but by the time we emerge back onto the street, we’re laughing. “Is it really like this for you every day, zouzouni?” she asks breathlessly. I gulp down air. Do I tell her about the nights I spend sitting awake, terrified? How often do I kiss Dante and think it might be the last time? How the heartbeat that made my baby real scares the absolute s**t out of me because that’s a whole, real person I’m responsible for? “Yes and no,” I say. “Should we find Gianna?” Mama peers at me, then nods. She knows I’m hiding something. For her sake, all I care about is that she doesn’t press.
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