And Antonia, who has softened into parenthood, into wifehood, into the role of best friend and babysitter and beloved aunt to Julia, does not say anything to Sofia. Antonia always takes Julia when Sofia shows up, dressed to the nines. She does not tell Sofia that the independence she boasts of stinks like Lina’s job at the laundry. She is not certain, of course, that Sofia is doing any worse than she, Antonia, is—where is Antonia’s independence, after all, her university certificate, her wraparound porch, her three children who have never heard of the Family, who will be doctors and explorers and farmers? She had a brief period of rebellion last year, when the war ended: she spent days and days looking up university schedules. She could have a degree if she took two night classes a week for six years. When she brought this to Paolo, he was angry. He told her there was enough change in their family with the end of the war. He didn’t know what his job would look like, or if he would even have one. He didn’t know what their finances would be like. His own family was in constant crisis, his mother refusing to get out of bed. Everything is unstable, he said. I feel like the ground beneath my feet is already dissolving. The last time I felt so—was after Robbie was born, when you— He hadn’t finished, but had left Antonia to her own guilt about the last time she abandoned her family. You know I want this for you, he said as they went to bed. You know it’s just bad timing.