I’m startled by her request. In just a few minutes, I’ve been told more information than I ever dreamed possible. But I don’t want to miss my meeting with Lorik. That feels right too, as familiar as this.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to dinner. Tomorrow, if you like, I’ll gladly meet you again. And talk more. About everything.”

“You can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“It could be dangerous.”

I laugh. It’s been a long time. I laugh at an aunt whom I didn’t even know existed and who after less than half an hour is just as worried about me as Thomas and Anette always were, though they tried to hide it.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sixteen years old, grew up in Sweden. It might be different here, but . . .”

I whisper. Not because I’m ashamed. But because Vesa might think this is something you’re not supposed to talk about. I don’t know, I don’t know her yet.

“. . . I’m not exactly a virgin. I had a boyfriend. Older. Turned out to be an idiot. But an idiot I could handle.”

She takes my hand.

“That’s not really what I’m talking about.”

The photos fall to the floor. Rolling up together.

“You can’t go to dinner.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re not responsible for me.”

She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to. I can see how upset she is.

“You can’t go!”

Her kind eyes won’t let me go. She’s holding me without holding me.

“Do you understand? You have to come with me tonight. When we get there, I’ll explain why.”

“I don’t even . . . have a phone. And I haven’t heard him mention one. If I can’t go, I have to call him. He can’t just sit there waiting for me to show up.”

“He’ll understand.”

“How could he . . .”

“Listen to me, darling. When you don’t arrive. He will understand.”

And now she’s holding me. For real. A hug unlike any other. Or any that I can remember.

Chapter 35

My aunt’s house stands isolated on the banks of the Buna River, close to where that river empties into the Mediterranean, and not far from a small town called Velipojë, which has about a thousand inhabitants. The full moon shining on the river turns it green, and I feel like jumping in from my aunt’s jetty, swimming across to the other side. To another country. Montenegro. That’s how close it is. I shout out to the people sitting on the opposite shore, who have built a fire on the beach, and they shout back. An invisible border.