Chapter 10
T he shrill ring of my phone drags me out of a shallow sleep. For one disoriented second, I lie there, not knowing where I am or why my whole body feels battered. Then last night slams back in jagged fragments, and all the hurt comes with it.
A dull throb pulses behind my eyes. My chest is tight. My throat burns. My arms ache from hours of pounding my fists into the mattress. I can’t tell what hurts more—the lies, the betrayal, or the images that keep replaying in my head no matter how hard I try to shut them out.
The phone buzzes against the nightstand again, yanking me back to the present. I fumble for it, nearly knocking it to the floor before I finally catch it. Wincing, I drag it to my ear and pry one eye open.
“Mm… hello?”
“Panayía mou!” a familiar voice blasts through the line, loud enough to split my skull. “What in Hades’ name am I looking at?”
I wince and squint at the screen, confused by the sudden brightness. It takes me a second to realize the front camera is on, aimed at a badly framed close-up of my ear, a sliver of cheek, and the wild tangle of my hair.
“Yiayia?” I croak.
A pulse of alarm cuts through the fog in my head.
Yiayia never calls this early, much less on video.
Not unless something’s wrong, or she thinks it is.
Did Xavier tell her? No. That’s impossible.
He wouldn’t admit to Yiayia that he’d screwed up, not after how long it took for her to trust him. Some of the panic recedes.
“Don’t you ‘Yiayia’ me right now,” my grandmother snaps.
Her face dominates the screen, enormous square sunglasses perched on her nose, pink rollers trembling in her silver hair, a lit cigarette hanging from her lip.
Over one shoulder, I catch a half-eaten plate of olives and feta, a steaming briki of coffee, and—naturally—a pistol gleaming on the counter.
She jerks her phone back so abruptly her sunglasses skid down her nose. The alarm on her face eases into exasperation.
“I thought I was looking at something indecent, but it’s just your gigantic face shoved into my screen.”
“Good morning to you too, Yiayia,” I mumble. “Sorry. I just woke up.”
“At this hour?” She stubs out her cigarette in an ashtray. “The sun has been up for ages.”
I glance blearily at the clock in the corner of my phone. A little after six here in France, which makes it just past seven in Greece. So no, not exactly noon—but I know better than to argue when Yiayia is on a roll.
“Could you please put the gun away?” I mutter hoarsely, tipping my chin toward it.
She follows my stare and snorts. “Oh, stop fussing. It’s not even loaded.” With a careless flick of her wrist, she sets the pistol aside. Her mouth tightens. “I had it out in case some pervert tried to break in. A woman can’t be too careful.”
Despite everything, a choked laugh slips out of me. “Any pervert stupid enough to break into your house has a death wish.”
“That’s exactly my point.” Yiayia smirks, the lines in her striking face deepening. “Now turn on a light. You look like you crawled out of a tomb. ”
I sigh and push myself upright against the headboard, clutching the sheet around me. Thin bars of early light slip through the blinds, but they do little to brighten the room. I reach over and switch on the bedside lamp.
Yiayia’s expression sours in an instant. The humor drains from her face, replaced by a wariness that sends my own pulse skittering. She opens her mouth, already poised to question me, but I cut her off before she can.
“I’m fine, Yiayia,” I lie, trying to force conviction into the words. The last thing I want is for her to sniff the truth before I’m ready to let it out. I tug the sheet higher, covering every mark I’d rather not look at. “It’s just early.”
“Fine?” Disbelief laces her voice. “Don’t lie to me, koritsi.” She peers closer at the screen, her gaze narrowing. “Your eyes are swollen. What happened?”
The look on her face confirms what I’ve been too drained to admit: I need to get out of here.
“I had too much wine.”
She doesn’t even blink. “Nonsense. You think I can’t see the dark circles under your eyes? How thin you’ve gotten? If someone is giving you trouble, you tell me now. I still have friends who know how to make problems disappear.”
For all her flippant wording, I don’t doubt her for a second. “It’s nothing like that. I’ve just… not been sleeping or eating much lately.”
Yiayia says nothing at first. She just studies me, letting the silence do its work.
“It was only a couple of glasses,” I add.
One brow lifts. “So which is it?”
My stomach drops.
“You lie worse than your Babà did.”
The words hit so hard my chest forgets how to work. Eleven years later, and that one word still opens me up like the wound never healed right.
Suddenly, I am there again. Smoke thick in the air. Sirens blaring. Heat so vicious it feels alive. Our home burning in front of me while the night glows orange and cruel. One second, my father and Mamà belong to this world. The next, they don’t.
And all over again, that same horrible truth sinks its teeth into me: there was nothing I could do. No prayer desperate enough. No hope strong enough. No love powerful enough. They were gone, and nothing in this world was ever going to bring them back.
If they could see me now, would they be ashamed of what I’ve become?
I blink away the sting in my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. “I promise I’m okay.” Before she can drill me with more questions, I reach for the safest distraction. “How’s Althea? I haven’t heard from her in days.”
Yiayia rolls her eyes heavenward, thankfully going along with it. “That girl. A menace and a half.” Then she bellows loud enough that I flinch and pull the phone back an inch. “Althea! Come here this instant! Your sister’s on the phone.”
I cringe and mutter a hoarse, “Thanks, Yiayia,” but she ignores me. In the background, I hear a distant, muffled groan that could only be my sister.
“Yiaaaayia...” comes Althea’s sleepy mumble from somewhere off-screen. “Why am I awake? It’s seven a.m.!”
“Oh, good, she lives!” Yiayia hollers back, her voice effortlessly reaching octaves not meant for so early in the morning. “Get over here. The roof could cave in and you’d still be snoring—move!”
There’s a clatter, then a series of thumps that sound very much like my sister body-checking furniture on the way over.
A second face wedges into the frame beside Yiayia’s.
Althea’s brown hair is twisted into a lopsided bun, and a drying green clay mask streaks half her cheek and nose.
Her eyes are still puffy with sleep as she squints at me through the screen.
“Wow,” she says, blinking. Her voice is rough with exhaustion, but I still catch the thread of concern beneath it. “You look… awful.”
A tired smile tugs at my mouth. “How sweet of you, gremlin.”
Yiayia smacks Althea’s shoulder. “That reckless little mouth of yours is going to get you killed.”
“Yiayia!” my sister yelps, rubbing her arm.
“What?” Yiayia says, utterly unrepentant as she pushes her sunglasses up onto the rollers in her hair and fixes us both with a withering look.
“Magdalene used to swear they should’ve sewn her grandmother’s mouth shut, and I’m starting to think she was onto something.
The last time this one opened hers, she took one look at your great-uncle and asked him if his new teeth came with a warranty.
He sulked for days. I had to send over a bottle of whiskey and promise I’d put in a word with Eleni from Galatas before he got over himself. ”
The affronted look on Althea’s face only sends the hysteria bubbling inside me closer to the surface.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and I double over, tears springing to my eyes.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.
Weeks? Months? Years? I honestly don’t know.
I’ve been trapped inside myself for so long—surviving, not living—that the realization is almost enough to undo me.
Both my grandmother and sister fall silent, staring at me as though they’ve never heard that sound come from me before.
“There she is,” Yiayia says with a faint grin. “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone.”
I’m almost embarrassed by how good it feels to laugh. “Sorry,” I murmur, still half-laughing. “It’s just...” I trail off, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.
Yiayia points a lacquered fingernail at my sister. “Since you’re finally conscious, go make some breakfast.”
Althea’s jaw drops. “You woke me up so I could cook for you? You do realize you have a housekeeper, right?”
“I gave poor Magda the morning off.” Yiayia lifts her free hand and waggles her ornate rings. “These hands certainly weren’t made for scrambling eggs. Why have grandchildren if not to exploit them?”
Althea throws her hands up dramatically. “What if I wasn’t here?”
Yiayia scoffs like the question personally offends her. “If you weren’t here, I’d shout louder until you were. Distance has never stopped a determined woman, certainly not me. Now move.”
“You’re impossible.”
“She’s hopeless,” Yiayia mutters at the same time, and the two of them glare at each other for a beat. Then Althea sighs. “Fine. I’m going. But if I burn anything, it’s on you.”
“Watch your mouth,” Yiayia retorts. She shoos Althea off with a series of clucks. “And pay attention. Don’t set the kitchen on fire. I’m too young to be homeless.”
The joke sours the air, snuffing out the last of my laughter.
Silence settles between us.
Althea’s smile flickers and vanishes so fast I almost think I imagined it. Then she rolls her eyes and turns away. “Very funny, Yiayia.”
Grumbling under her breath, she disappears out of view. A second later, I hear the clang of pans and the soft whoosh of a gas burner lighting. Yiayia turns back to me with the faintest hint of satisfaction. “There. Obedient.”
“More like terrified.”