Page 55 of Iridescent
Yiayia says nothing at first. She just studies me, letting the silence do its work.
“It was only a couple of glasses,” I add.
One brow lifts. “So which is it?”
My stomach drops.
“You lie worse than your Babà did.”
The words hit so hard my chest forgets how to work. Eleven years later, and that one word still opens me up like the wound never healed right.
Suddenly, I am there again. Smoke thick in the air. Sirens blaring. Heat so vicious it feels alive. Our home burning in front of me while the night glows orange and cruel. One second, my father and Mamà belong to this world. The next, they don’t.
And all over again, that same horrible truth sinks its teeth into me: therewas nothing I could do. No prayer desperate enough. No hope strong enough. No love powerful enough. They were gone, and nothing in this world was ever going to bring them back.
If they could see me now, would they be ashamed of what I’ve become?
I blink away the sting in my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. “I promise I’m okay.” Before she can drill me with more questions, I reach for the safest distraction. “How’s Althea? I haven’t heard from her in days.”
Yiayia rolls her eyes heavenward, thankfully going along with it. “That girl. A menace and a half.” Then she bellows loud enough that I flinch and pull the phone back an inch. “Althea! Come here this instant! Your sister’s on the phone.”
I cringe and mutter a hoarse, “Thanks, Yiayia,” but she ignores me. In the background, I hear a distant, muffled groan that could only be my sister.
“Yiaaaayia...” comes Althea’s sleepy mumble from somewhere off-screen. “Why am I awake? It’s seven a.m.!”
“Oh, good, she lives!” Yiayia hollers back, her voice effortlessly reaching octaves not meant for so early in the morning. “Get over here. The roof could cave in and you’d still be snoring—move!”
There’s a clatter, then a series of thumps that sound very much like my sister body-checking furniture on the way over. A second face wedges into the frame beside Yiayia’s. Althea’s brown hair is twisted into a lopsided bun, and a drying green clay mask streaks half her cheek and nose. Her eyes are still puffy with sleep as she squints at me through the screen.
“Wow,” she says, blinking. Her voice is rough with exhaustion, but I still catch the thread of concern beneath it. “You look… awful.”
A tired smile tugs at my mouth. “How sweet of you, gremlin.”
Yiayia smacks Althea’s shoulder. “That reckless little mouth of yours is going to get you killed.”
“Yiayia!” my sister yelps, rubbing her arm.
“What?” Yiayia says, utterly unrepentant as she pushes her sunglasses up onto the rollers in her hair and fixes us both with a withering look. “Magdalene used to swear they should’ve sewn her grandmother’s mouth shut, and I’m starting to think she was onto something. The last time this oneopened hers, she took one look at your great-uncle and asked him if his new teeth came with a warranty. He sulked for days. I had to send over a bottle of whiskey and promise I’d put in a word with Eleni from Galatas before he got over himself.”
The affronted look on Althea’s face only sends the hysteria bubbling inside me closer to the surface. A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and I double over, tears springing to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this. Weeks? Months? Years? I honestly don’t know. I’ve been trapped inside myself for so long—surviving, not living—that the realization is almost enough to undo me.
Both my grandmother and sister fall silent, staring at me as though they’ve never heard that sound come from me before.
“There she is,” Yiayia says with a faint grin. “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone.”
I’m almost embarrassed by how good it feels to laugh. “Sorry,” I murmur, still half-laughing. “It’s just...” I trail off, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.
Yiayia points a lacquered fingernail at my sister. “Since you’re finally conscious, go make some breakfast.”
Althea’s jaw drops. “You woke me up so I could cook for you? You do realize you have a housekeeper, right?”
“I gave poor Magda the morning off.” Yiayia lifts her free hand and waggles her ornate rings. “These hands certainly weren’t made for scrambling eggs. Why have grandchildren if not to exploit them?”
Althea throws her hands up dramatically. “What if I wasn’t here?”
Yiayia scoffs like the question personally offends her. “If you weren’t here, I’d shout louder until you were. Distance has never stopped a determined woman, certainly not me. Now move.”
“You’re impossible.”
