“How long before you have to be back for Robbie?” asks Sofia, and if Antonia wasn’t otherwise distracted this question would send her into fury: Julia and Robbie go to the same school; they get home at the same time. Sofia has abdicated the realm of normal motherhood, of responsibility, of knowing what’s in the fridge, where the lost shoe is, which comb won’t yank the hair out as it brushes.

“I’m pregnant,” is what Antonia says in response.

Now Sofia puts down her sandwich. “Tonia, congratulations,” she says. She is warm and expansive. She wants Antonia to be happy.

Antonia begins to cry. She holds her napkin to her face and shakes, as quietly as she can.

“Tonia,” says Sofia, quietly now, urgently, “what is it.”

Antonia stops crying by sheer force of will. She holds her brimming eyes as still as possible and opens her sandwich to tear a piece of pastrami into thin strips. She watches the pink juice well up.

“Tonia,” says Sofia.

“Do you remember how this went, last time?” asks Antonia.

“I remember,” says Sofia.

“I’m worried I’ll disappear this time,” says Antonia.

“You won’t,” says Sofia.

“I’ve been worried for months,” says Antonia.

“Worried,” repeats Sofia.

“I’ve been worried, I guess, that I’ve made all the wrong choices.”

“What choices?”

“I should have gone to university.” Antonia dips pastrami in mustard.

“You still could,” says Sofia.

“I’m worried—I’m worried I shouldn’t have married—so young. I’m worried there were other options, and I didn’t even consider them. And now I can’t. Consider them.”

“Of course you can,” says Sofia, and then, “What kind of options?” She is unnerved. Antonia, the metronome of Sofia’s world, seems to be rocking faster and faster.

“My mamma never wanted me to marry into the Family,” says Antonia. “And she’s so—she just does things at exactly her own speed now, have you noticed that?”

“Yes,” says Sofia. And then, quietly, “I really admire her.”

“I don’t, usually!” says Antonia, stomping her foot on the floor so hard the plates jump in their trays on the table. She looks around; lowers her voice. “I don’t. I think I would be lonely. There are things to do in the world, and I want to do them.” Antonia pauses. She can feel her heart racing. She can feel her mouth moving, faster than her thoughts. “But I don’t know if I thought this life through. You know since Saul was promoted Paolo won’t be, for years now? Change happens slowly. And I’m happy. I’m fortunate. I’m fortunate. But we’ve been in that apartment for a long time.” Antonia chews on her straw. “Even Frankie works, you know.”