She first went to answer a question: where is my husband. She did not know where that question appeared from again, years after Carlo’s disappearance, with such vehemence. But of course, the maga is not there to answer questions as they are asked: she is there to help her clients find the questions they are not asking. Are you looking for a love potion? she had asked. Americans like love potions. They are the maga’s bread and butter, so to speak. Lina was unsatisfied, and went away frustrated. Mamma was right, she thought. It is an ancient nonsense.

The next week, though, Lina found herself on the same doorstep. And she has gone every week since.

There, Lina’s fears are pored over by the warm eyes of an old woman who speaks almost no English. The fears are laid out against the drawn cards from the tarocchi and discussed quietly over tea with flowers blooming in it. Lina learns the rhythm of the full moon and carries rustling bodies of fava beans nestled in her pockets. She learns to feel out the four directions by the height of the sun, the length of the shadows, the tilt of the wind. She situates herself on the earth. Seven years after her husband’s death, Lina Russo, not a ghost, finds herself resting on the breast of La Vecchia. An older and wilder thing, whose stories and rhythms carry her into a place that feels timelessly, strangely, uncannily like home.

It is the first time in her life Lina has done something because she wanted to, and not because someone told her she should. It is the first time she is choosing something and does not care what anyone thinks. If La Vecchia is a street to be crossed, Lina is striding forward without looking left or right.

And without even realizing, like she did when she was a child, Antonia begins to take heed of Lina’s mood, and take up space in their home accordingly. In their apartment a silence descends: the witch and the Catholic girl, eating lasagna.

—

During their first year in high school Antonia and Sofia spend more time apart than together. It happens slowly and simply, and so by the time they do not walk to school together each morning it feels almost natural.

Antonia takes on hours of studying with the enthusiasm of a thirsty man who finds a clear stream. She is never totally comfortable in the hallway rush, but learns to take solace in the library, in the pages of her textbooks. Antonia studies French and Latin. She reads voraciously. She graphs parabolas and puzzles through the dates of famous battles for American independence. On her way home each day, Antonia quizzes herself. She whispers the quadratic equation. She recites the opening of the Inferno.