EIGHT

. Her eyes met mine. She tried to say something but her voice got lodged in her throat and instead a sharp noise came out like high pitched static on a microphone. Her eyes screwed closed and her mouth opened. Then she stumbled forward into my arms.

"It's his," Sofia sobbed into my shoulder. Her breath was hot and damp against the cool material of Arturo's shirt. I wrapped my arms around her small frame and prayed. I knew just as well as anyone else what this meant. "It's his," she repeated, and I could feel her teeth against my collarbone as her mouth contorted into a sob. "I can't."

I pulled back and looked into her eyes. They were red and puffy, like a swollen river that burst its banks. I pushed a strand of her hair back. It will be okay, I wanted to tell her. I couldn't. Instead, I asked, "how long?"

Sofia pulled back and wiped her eyes. She was wearing black nail polish that had half rubbed off. She turned half around, sighed, rubbed her forehead. Gathered herself at the seams. "Two months."

"And it's definitely-"

"It's Salvo's."

I sighed. "Does he-?"

"No. He doesn't." She pulled out a cigarette and fumbled with the lighter. One strike. Two. Three strikes and it lit, at last, and she inhaled. Arturo would have a cow if he saw her smoking in his house. But Arturo wasn't here. Sofia breathed out smoke. It shivered in the air then dissipated. "And he's never going to."

"What?"

She had my wrist in her hand, suddenly, and she squeezed it, tight. Too tight. "Salvo is never going to know about this, understood? Neither is Arturo."

"How?" I asked.

She sighed and released me. "I'm not keeping it."

"But-"

The broken woman was back in an instant. "I can't, I can't keep it, I can't."

"What if Arturo finds out? Or Salvo?"

"I can't bring a child into this!" A sob strangled its way out of Sofia's throat. "You know what this life is like, Florence. Better than anyone, you do."

I opened my mouth, but what could I say? I did know this life; I had fled from it before. It had almost killed me, chewed me up and spat me out like I was just some cannon fodder. There was no control in the mafia, no stability, no guarantees. "I know, but -"

"People in the mafia either die or kill. There is no safety. There's only violence, and how much you can inflict before someone hurts you back. This is no place for a child." She snapped the stick in half and threw it into the toilet.

"What if they find out?" I asked again.

The pregnancy test was flushed away; we both watched it swirling in the toilet until finally it was gone. "The alternative is having a child with nothing to give them. The mafia is all they would know. That is, if they made it past being an infant. They would be trained to be cold and heartless and ruthless, then they would be put in a position of power and told shoot to kill. I have to try."

I reached out to touch her arm but she flinched away. "I mean, what will happen to you if they find out?"

Sofia stared out of the window and considered. She seemed icily composed when she said, "Salvatore may kill me."

"You can't -"

"It would kill me more to see my child treated in the same way that I am. It would kill me more to know that I had allowed that to happen."

Silence swallowed us temporarily. The things we were discussing were no joke; death in the mafia was as common as life. Perhaps being in the mafia meant having no life - at least a normal one, anyway. It was unfair to bring a child into that. Cruel, even. Could I do it? Would I? Would it be expected, if Arturo and I made it that far? I didn't want to think, because Sofia was right. Having a baby was wrong.

I had always wanted kids. When I pictured my future, I had a husband by my side and a child in my arms - sometimes even two - and we lived in a quiet cottage in the countryside. That was what I hoped for. None of that was possible with Arturo. I couldn't raise my children then pack them off to be slaughtered on the streets - I wouldn't do it.

"When are you planning on...?" I trailed off.

Sofia startled and turned away from me again. "Soon. As soon as I can. Will you help me?"

"What?"

"I want...I want someone to come with me."

I glanced to the bathroom door nervously. Although Arturo was out, I still felt as though he was somehow watching me, as if he might walk upstairs in an instant.

I didn't know whether helping Sofia was the right or wrong thing to do. She was trapped in a hateful marriage, but taking the life of a child felt no less terrible.

"Florence," Sofia knocked me from my thoughts.

"I-I can't." I shook my head. Memories of Salvo groping me in the back of his car flooded into my mind while Arturo sat there helpless. Memories of the pain when he shot me. I traced a finger over the lumpy scar tissue on my right arm. Salvatore was a terrifying and ruthless man. I couldn't even imagine what he would do to me if he found out I had a hand in this. "I'm sorry," I whispered, but it meant little.

Sofia took a deep breath and drew herself up taller. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. When she spoke, she sounded stronger. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

She went for the door but I reached for her arm again and this time she didn't pull away. She hesitated as my palm pressed to her skin. "Wait." She did. "You could...run away. You could pack your things and take some money and just run, get a plane out of here and never come back. You could have this baby. You don't have to stay with him, Sofia."

She set her jaw and her eyes narrowed. This time her voice was distinctly colder. "You don't understand."

"I know it can't be easy but -"

"I can't just run away. I can't leave him. You have no idea how deep the mafia goes, how powerful they are. They would find me."

"Not if you switched your identity, you could -"

"I couldn't. They would find me. He will always find me." I could see tears burning at the corners of her eyes but she soon blinked them away. What she said next broke my heart. "I have to stay with him."

"Sofia, please, you don't -"

"No offence, but you have no idea." She shrugged my hand off but I quickly leaned past her to shut the door. I held it there and her jaw clenched. "I am with him for my family. Famiglia prima di tutto."

(Family before everything)

"That's insane. He beats you, Sofia! What kind of family lets that happen!?"

She yanked the door open, hard. "You wouldn't understand."

She was right, I didn't.