Page 151 of Sexting the Pakhan

Nadia glances at me, suspicious. “Do you want toast?”

“No,” I say.

Mila pushes her plate toward me. “You can have some of mine.”

“No,” Zoya says quickly. “He has his own food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

Zoya looks at me then. “You need to eat with the antibiotics.”

“I’ll eat.”

“Good.”

The word is practical. Nothing else.

It shouldn’t feel like being touched.

Karina appears from the hallway half-awake, wearing last night’s clothes and a scowl. “Is there coffee?”

Zoya points to the counter. “Mug is there.”

Karina sees me, stops, and says, “Oh. Still here.”

“Good morning to you too,” I say.

Karina pours coffee. “I reserve good mornings for people who don’t bring gunshot wounds into family apartments.”

Mila says, “Aunt Karina, that is rude.”

Karina looks at her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Nadia says, “It was also accurate.”

Karina points at Nadia. “Thank you.”

Zoya sighs. “Nobody discuss gunshot wounds during breakfast.”

Everyone goes quiet for three seconds.

Then Mila asks, “Can we discuss pancakes?”

“Yes,” Zoya says. “Pancakes are allowed.”

The conversation turns to pancakes, school, and whether frogs have teeth.

After breakfast, Karina takes the girls to wash up. Their voices disappear down the hall, Nadia explaining that soap must stay on hands for long enough to count, Mila insisting she counts “in sparkle time.”

Zoya stays in the kitchen.

She clears plates slowly, not because she needs to, but because she’s avoiding the conversation.

Finally, she sets a cup in the sink and turns to me. “When can you leave?”

I look at her.

There it is. The question she has been holding since last night.