"What is this, Maya?" Sophia suddenly wants to know.
I quickly turn to her, and it only takes a split second for me to register what's happening here.
She has taken the letter out of my bag. It arrived yesterday, but I haven't been able to open it yet.
"Put it back." I walk toward her to take the envelope from her hand, but I collide heavily with a chair that unexpectedly blocks my way. With a groan, I massage the painful spot on my hip, and I can only watch as Sophia curiously turns the letter in her hands.
"Why is it sealed?" she innocently asks. Then she hands it to Josh. "What does it say, Dad?"
No. Not this too. Now he has the envelope. I can't just snatch it from his hand. I would have to get too close to him for that.
For a moment, he furrows his brow. "It says University of Vienna, Department of Admissions Test," he reads.
Sophia gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. "The test," she whispers in awe.
"How long have you had it?" Josh approaches to hand me the envelope.
I need to stay cool; no, I have to. "It's not that important." I hastily grab the letter and take a step back.
Sophia follows me. "Open it! We want to know what's inside," she insists.
Definitely not. With tightly pressed lips, I look at Josh. Now I need his help, no matter how uncomfortable that may be.
Immediately, he turns to his daughter. "Maya and I would like a moment alone. Why don't you choose a hair clip in the meantime?"
"Only if you take one too." Sophia's eyes twinkle mischievously. She knows exactly how to get what she wants from her father.
Josh laughs. "Alright. A clip of your choice," he says, and Sophia giggles as she hops toward the table.
As soon as she's out of earshot, Josh's expression turns serious. "Should I open it for you?"
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
I stare at him, paralyzed. While my mind searches for the right answer, my hand seemingly extends theletter to him without my control. He takes it and carefully slides his finger under the adhesive flap.
The paper tears.
I feel paralyzed.
He pulls a folded sheet from the envelope and holds it to my eyes.
"Are you ready?"
No.
A loving smile graces his face. "You can do this."
No.
"Alright. Maybe tomorrow, then." His understanding nod helps me.
The sheet disappears from my sight. The pressure lessens.
I look at him in search of help. I know I won't be able to avoid it. "Tomorrow, the result will still be the same, right?"
