Chapter 47
Mireya
Play - Sun Beached Flies by Ethel Cain
The nightmare always comes
The floorboard creaks and it echoes in the hallway. The sound makes me flinch slightly but then I see Milo appear in the doorway, smiling brightly.
“Sissy, you look really tired,” he says like he’s worried.
I don’t try to hide it. “I am,” I admit, stirring the pot so the bottom won’t catch. “But now I’m with you, so I’m not tired anymore.”
He hops up on the stool and wraps his small arms around my waist, burying his face in my hip as I ruffle his hair.
“Can I put the movie on?” he asks. “The Goonies?”
“Yeah. Go on,” I say, and he scrambles up the steps, two at a time, lights the living room with the click of the remote.
On the stove the chakhchoukha is ready to be finished. I ladle big spoons of sauce onto the torn bread. We’re quickly sitting in front of his favorite movie, the food smells good, and Milo’s already giggling.
He leans over, nostrils flaring. “I love this dish,” he says after his first bite, words muffled.
“It comes from the country where our mom was born,” I tell him. “You’re half Algerian too, you know.”
“Yeah,” he says, face brightening. “It’s delicious.”
I laugh, the sound coming out softer than I expect. “Yes, it is.” I add, because I like the way it sits between us, “You know it’s the biggest country in Africa?”
He makes a small, impressive sound. “That’s huge. Does it have dragons?”
“No dragons, firefly,” I say, grinning. “Just a lot of stories and a lot of pride.”
We sit together on the couch with a big plate between us and the movie does its loud, silly thing. He quotes the lines he remembers, and every time he laughs I let my shoulders drop a little further.
He smiles like her, and laughs like her too. Sometimes it’s like she never left when I look at him.
“By the way sissy, the boy who dropped you off, is it your boyfriend?”
“What boy? You mean my professor?” I ask.
He nods before saying, “Yeah, Damien. I didn’t know professors could drop you off after school, mine never do that.”
I laugh, shaking my head at him. “It’s because he’s kind and kind people do kind things.”
Milo bounces his head in approval, “So he’s not your boyfriend?”
“No he’s not,” I reply quickly, my cheeks burning, “Focus on the movie and don’t tell dad about this, okay?”
“Yes, sissy.”
By the time the Goonies are done finding the treasure, his eyelids have gone soft. He tucks his head against my shoulder like it’s the safest harbor and stops making noises about pirate traps.
I rest my hand on his hair, fingers through the soft curls there and I finally breathe again.
For a little while, that’s enough.
Tomorrow dad is back, and when he’s back, I have to hide, I have to die.