“Hey,” Valerio said. “What do you think?”

My gaze swept around the room, all the layers, the levels of this world that Michelangelo created. “Like I finally have an adequate conception of what man is capable of accomplishing,” I said with a smile.

Gazing up at Michelangelo’s masterpiece, I thought to myself: I wish I could talk to Amir from a month ago. The one who thought his life was over. I wish I could have told myself it was all going to be okay. Like, hey, Past Amir. Hey, buddy. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to make great friends in Rome, and you’ll sneak kisses with cute Italian boys in the Vatican, and everything will be okay.

Valerio brushed his hand against mine, and for a few seconds, our pinkies linked. I looked up and took in the intricate design of the ceilings, the cool air of the room. I took one more look at the central image. Man and God. Adam, with his knee propped up, leaning back and leaning in at the same time.

Valerio nudged my arm. “Pretty epic, right?”

“Pretty epic,” I said.

Interrogation Room 37

Amir

I DIDN’T MEAN to get into the specifics of my date with Valerio, but judging from your intense level of attention, you seemed to be okay with it. There’s something about you, Officer. It’s like you have a soft side.

Unfortunately, this story is about to sour like a poorly made batch of limoncello. Limoncello? It’s a lemon digestif they make in Naples—digestif, it’s like an aperitif. Um. Wow, and I thought I was the teenager.

Do you watch RuPaul’s Drag Race, sir? You’ve heard of it? You say you accidentally walked into a viewing party at a sports bar thinking it was a football game? I ask because it can get dramatic, in a way only the gays can, so buckle up.

Viewer discretion is advised.

Interrogation Room 38

Soraya

HALF OF ME wanted Amir to stay in Rome, to stay happy and live his life there. I thought I could just ignore what I had discovered. But the other half of me wanted my brother back in my life. I don’t get it. I don’t even like Amir that much. I’m pretty sure I like him a normal amount, for a little sister. I just wanted him back.

Anyway, I was busy with Cats rehearsal—we had finally gotten to my part of the script—so that got in the way, too. I can’t pretend it was just my internal debate. I’m not that good of a person. I was knee-deep in “Memory.” It had to be perfect. I had to hit a high C. I don’t know if you know music, but it’s very hard.

I remember one night, I heard my parents talking in the kitchen. They didn’t know I was home; I think they thought I was at rehearsal. But I had that night off. I remember my mom asking, “Well, what? Would we rather have our son be gay, or would we rather not have him at all?” And I remember my dad was just silent.