Saul calls home before he eats lunch, but there is no answer. Sofia must not be home. Saul goes out for midday dim sum with three other guys who spend the meal clapping one another on the back and gesticulating with their chopsticks and laughing uproariously and nudging each other in the ribs, louder than everyone else in the restaurant. Their voices surround him and he feels dizzy and goes to the bathroom to splash water on his face and grip the edges of the sink and stare into the mirror. The war is over, he says to himself. But he does not know what parts of him will disappear now, and he is sure most of him will. What is left of Saul, without the war? What will he have to show for himself, once the war that made him turns into bland history? He can feel it happening already: his mother a memory, the metal and chalk taste of not eating or drinking enough fading, now that there is clean running water everywhere he goes. When Saul feels eyes on his back as he walks through the streets, it is his job to stay calm and authoritative. Inside of Saul, a Jewish child runs home as the sun sets, because the Berlin streets are not safe for him after dark.

—

Sofia sips Turkish coffee from a cup the size of her thumb and watches the door of the restaurant across the street for signs of Saul. She knows she is late to pick up Julia and she is surprised, still, to find herself here, shamelessly tailing her husband in broad daylight.

The coffee is sweet and strong and Sofia feels like she has been electrocuted. One of her feet bounces, two of her fingers tap against the table.

“Will you have something else, ma’am?” asks the waiter.

“No,” she says. “Thank you.” Ma’am, he says, again and again, in her head. Something else, ma’am. Ma’am. Ma’am.

The waiter leaves a check in a tin tray. Sofia drops her coins into the tray but her eyes stay glued to the restaurant, where she knows Saul has not come out yet.

Sofia doesn’t know what she’s expecting to happen. She’s tailing Saul at his job, for what? Knowing what he does isn’t going to change the fact that there’s no way her husband and her father will ever let her in the door. Watching him clap other men on the back will do nothing but reinforce her understanding that the centuries of unspoken, unwritten, universally understood Family rules will not be bent because she is a little bored at home.

Then, knowing something is impossible has never stopped Sofia Colicchio from trying.

—

Joey is sitting in his favorite armchair with his feet up when someone calls. He picks it up before the first ring is over. “Freddie.”

“She’s following him again, boss.”