Next Flight to Parikia

Eleni

Two days after my night in Dante’s office, I sit on the king bed Mama and I have been sharing with my knees curled up to my chest. I haven’t seen more than a glimpse of him since then. He helped me dress, made me promise to go to the bathroom, gave me one last searing kiss, and then…nothing.

“I feel ridiculous.” Mama turns from the closet that was slowly stocked with clothes in her size and preferred style over the last week with a sweater in her hands. “I should just take everything, yes? Even if I’ll never wear it back home?”

“You should take whatever you want, Mama.” I smooth a pair of pants in her open suitcase. “You never know if you might travel someday.”

“It is free.” She looks at the bright blue sweater. “What are you packing, zouzouni?”

I have gotten good at not flinching when she asks me questions like this. I really did mean to tell her that night. But when I walked away from Dante with my knees still weak and told he