“Enough!” says Joey, and for the first time his voice cracks slightly, out of his control. “This is not your affair. You will sit there and you will not speak. You will not. You will not make the impossible situation your sister has put this family in any worse. You will not question my judgment. Is that clear.” Frankie is silent. “Is. That. Clear.”

But Frankie cannot stop herself. “This is ridiculous, Papa! People have rights. Women have—”

“Frankie, enough,” says Rosa.

“But, Mamma—”

“That is enough.”

“It’s okay,” says Sofia. She puts her hand on Frankie’s knee. She keeps her eyes on her own lap and tells herself again, for emphasis, it’s okay. She believes it. For the first time in months, everything might be okay.

There is what feels like an exhale—from each person in the room, from the room itself, from the very bones of New York—as the Colicchio family makes itself into something new.

—

Saul is sent home with a foil-wrapped tin of leftovers.

By the time he gets there, he is so exhausted he can hardly lift his feet up the stairs. He draws the shades tight and stuffs two spare shirts along the cracks between the windowpanes. In bed, he wriggles his body around along the length of his icy sheets until he can feel his heartbeat quicken and the sheets start to warm up.

He counts his breaths—in, and out—and tries not to think about Sofia. He tries not to think about what it means that she is pregnant, and that his mother is missing, and that he will be a father in his new country. He feels swollen with a responsibility bigger than himself. And he feels guilty, too, because a part of him is relieved to accept Joey Colicchio’s offer, to disappear completely into a new life.

Saul’s eyes are heavy and his breath is slow and he is nearly asleep when the door of his room explodes open. He sits up in bed, heart beating in his head and chest and fingers, blinking furiously in the dark.

Before he can focus his eyes, Sofia’s father has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, picked him up, and pinned him against the wall. Saul’s head slams against the brick and stars burst in front of his eyes. He can hardly draw a breath.

“I thought I could trust you,” growls Joey Colicchio. “You sneaky sack of shit. How dare you.”

“I didn’t mean—” says Saul. His feet are barely touching the floor. Adrenaline courses through him like lightning.