Page 146 of Sexting the Pakhan

Instead, I say, “Loud rain can sound like other things.”

Nadia’s grip on the book loosens.

Mila looks up at me. “What was your nightmare about?”

“Mila,” Nadia says immediately, scandalized.

“It’s okay,” Mila says. “He can say no.”

I look at the small hand resting on the blanket beside me. Her nails are painted badly, one hand pink, one hand purple. Zoya must have done it, or perhaps Mila did it herself and Zoya surrendered to the result.

“I don’t remember all of it,” I say.

That’s a lie, but not the worst kind.

Mila nods. “That happens.”

Nadia takes one step into the room. “You should drink water.”

Mila perks up. “Yes. Injured people need water.”

“Everyone needs water,” Nadia says.

“But injured people get reminded more.”

Nadia considers that and doesn’t argue.

Mila starts to climb off me. Her knee presses near my side, and I catch her under the arm before she can slip.

“Slowly,” I say.

She freezes, then gives me a solemn nod. “Slowly.”

She climbs down in the least slow way possible.

Nadia watches me help her and moves another step closer. “You’re not supposed to pick things up,” she says.

“I picked up your sister.”

“She’s not a thing.”

“No,” I agree. “She’s not.”

Mila returns with a plastic cup of water filled almost to the top. She carries it with both hands, walking so carefully that half still spills onto the floor.

Nadia sighs. “I told you not full.”

“It was full of love,” Mila says.

“It’s now full of floor.”

Mila hands me the cup. “Drink.”

I take it. “Thank you.”

She beams.

Nadia looks at my bandaged leg from a safe distance. “Does it hurt?”