Her hands shook as she dialed Flora’s number.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“No,” said Lee, “but she’s right here. I’m at the hospital and—”
“Give me my mom!” Flora’s voice cracked with longing—but not for Lee.
Never for Lee.
“Here’s your mom,” Lee said quietly, handing over the phone and turning to leave.
Regan’s words echoed as Lee walked the long hallway to the hospital exit:I don’t need you anymore.
Depression, patient as always, agreed:No one needs you anymore. They would be better off with you gone.
63
Lee
The apartment felt smaller whenLee returned from the hospital: the couch where she and the girls had cuddled together during the first nights waiting; the kitchen table where they’d scrutinized Regan’s online activity and shared meals; assorted detritus of a teenager and young adult—shoes, hoodies, unmatched socks, hair ties, water bottles, charging cords. Lee felt as if she were standing among discarded props from a play, a show that had closed.
Flora smashed the apartment door open. “Auntie Lee! How’s Mom?”
“She’s good,” said Lee robotically. “She’ll be home soon.”
Flora set her backpack down, her face hopeful and anxious. “Really? When?”
“Tomorrow or the next day, I think.” Lee smiled brightly, trying to project hope.
“That’s amazing,” Flora said, bouncing on her heels. “Mom’s OK! I can’t believe it, Auntie Lee. I’m going to make dinner! That lentil soup fromBon Appétit? Grammy will be very excited.”
Lee watched Flora. Sixteen years old and already carrying the weight of cooking, keeping the household running, trying so hard to be perfect and helpful that it made Lee want to shake her,grip her shoulders and saysomething,give Flora a shining pearl of wisdom that would free her from the lonely life she was assembling for herself: a life of never knowing who she actually was and what she, Flora, even wanted. The silencing of her heart, replacing her own desires with an overdeveloped ability to win others’ approval. Lee wanted to cry,Don’t be like me!
But her job here was done.
“Yum, lentil soup,” said Lee.
64
Lee
Regan had told the girlsshe wasn’t allowed any more visitors. Lee wasn’t sure if her sister was lying, but Flora seemed to buy it. Lee kept uneasily mum. That evening, after Flora’s lentil soup (whichwasdelicious), Lee, Charlotte, and Flora went for ice cream in the neighborhood.
(Lee texted Isabelle to ask if she was OK, and Isabelle sent a text back saying,yessir im good.Isabelle was of age: Lee gave the text a thumbs-up emoji but internally gave Isabelle a shrug emoji.)
The ice cream café was tucked between a pharmacy and a store crammed with tchotchkes, its front window displaying evil-eye pendants. “What is the deal with the evil eye?” said Lee, looking at the rows of blue glass charms that seemed to stare back from every surface—clipped to key chains, embedded in silver jewelry, painted on ceramic tiles, and even adorning the handle of a coffee cup.
“It’s totally real,” said Flora, lifting her slim wrist and showing a beaded evil-eye bracelet. “Nico explained it to me—the eye protects you from jealousy and bad intentions—like if someone gives you a nasty look or wishes you harm, the evil eye deflects it. Even Nico’s parents, who are professors, they still have themhanging all over their house. Nico was serious about it when he gave me this one. He said I needed protection walking around Athens as a foreigner.”
“A charm bracelet to ward off bad luck?” sniffed Charlotte. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I need one,” said Lee, thinking of all the internet trolls and jealous actors who wished her harm…and also of Regan’s fury.
“Well, I’m not going tonotward off bad luck,” agreed Charlotte, and they went into the store and bought bracelets that matched Flora’s.
At Da Vinci Gelato, Lee ordered her new favorite flavor, Kaimaki, which was creamy and slightly chewy with a pine-like herbal flavor. She added cherry syrup on top. “I should learn to make my own ice cream,” she mused.
“You should,” Charlotte agreed, tucking into a chocolate scoop. “But you won’t.”
