ELEVEN

on Sofia's door three times. From inside, there was silence. When I reached up for the fourth knock, her voice penetrated the wood. "Come in."

She was kneeling in front of the window, head down. As I moved closer, I saw that she grasped in her hands a string of lilac jewels. Rosary beads. I cleared my throat. "I didn't know you were religious."

Although she had told me to enter, Sofia still startled at the sound of my voice. She quickly stood and dropped her hands to her sides. "I should be," she said.

"Those are prayer beads, aren't they?"

"Yes." She held the beads up to the light and they gently clinked together. "I should be Catholic...I once was, anyway."

I should have known. "When did you stop believing?"

Sofia sat down on the bed and discarded the beads beside her. "When I saw my brother kill our best friend." She sighed. "Then, when I killed a man, and every day since. I cannot believe in God and do what I am about to do."

"God is forgiving."

"You believe?"

I stared at the rosary. "No. But it's a nice thought."

Sofia shrugged. "It is all a nice thought until you're damned."

Any words I might have said dried up in my throat. I, too, had killed a man. Antonio. He crept his way into my thoughts sometimes - the memory of how easily my knife had slipped inside his skin wrapped itself around my throat until I choked. I sat on the bed beside Sofia. "If you're damned, then I am, too."

"You are not damned, Florence," she said with a humourless laugh.

"I killed someone."

Sofia's laughter stilled and she turned to face me. "What?"

"Antonio Genovese, my Uncle. I killed him. I'm just as damned as you are." Even saying it aloud made my breath catch nervously. I tried to slow it down.

"You were protecting yourself."

"Last time I checked that didn't matter."

Sofia sighed softly, then did something that surprised me. She took my hands in hers. "If you are damned, then we all are. Every blasted one of us."

I shrugged. "Maybe we are."

"I'd like to think not."

Sofia's coffee coloured eyes stared into mine firmly. They were less watery than before, more resolute. I released her hands and instead picked up the beads. They were attached to a thin gold chain. I wrapped it around her right wrist carefully and fastened it there. "I don't know whether what you're doing is right or wrong," I began carefully. "Or if there even is a right or wrong answer. But I do know why you're doing it, and if there really is no way to get you to run away-"

"There isn't."

"-then I will go with you."

It took a moment for Sofia's eyes to flicker up from the bracelet I just fashioned her. When they did, they were narrowed. "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to. I want to. God knows you have to go through everything else alone."

Finally, she smiled. "You are a saint, Florence. Arturo is lucky to have you."

"I wish people would stop calling me that," I muttered.

It had never felt further from the truth.

"Thank you." Those were the first two words Sofia had spoken to me since we had set off. We were now nearing home. She had been silent, which was understandable. Throughout the journey there and her time inside the clinic, conversation had been minimal. I expected nothing less. She hadn't stopped fiddling with her prayer beads the whole time.

"You don't have to thank me," I said. I meant it. I also knew how much that small sentence taxed her; Sofia had learnt a good poker face from living with Salvo, and she did not often allow it to fall away.

"You took a risk for me. A big risk."

I shrugged. "It's what any decent person would have done."

"No," Sofia shook her head. "It is what family should have done. You are more family to me than my own father, or husband."

"You still have your brother."

"He would not have helped me," she scoffed.

"But he does love you," I pointed out.

"And he loves you." I pursed my lips to suppress a smile. "You know, I haven't seen him this happy since...well, for a long time."

I glanced away from the road for a second to gauge her expression. "You think?"

Sofia nodded. "I'm jealous, actually. That you are in love with each other."

"But you and Arturo have trust."

"Trust we have built over twenty seven years. It will come with time. He isn't a straight forward man, Florence. He was built to distrust everyone by Padre." She rolled down her window and a breeze wafted in, causing our hair to twirl upwards. "Speaking of parents, Arturo must be heart-broken he can't ask your father for permission to marry you." She laughed dryly. "He always has been fond of tradition."

I offered a tight-lipped smile, but on the inside my stomach twisted. Deep down I knew that he and I were not matched - there were so many obstacles stretching between us. Our families being one of them. Perhaps one of the biggest, if what Sofia said was true. How could Arturo banish his traditions for me, if he believed so firmly in them?

Sofia pointed out of the window. "Is that a diner coming up on the right?"

"We're not far from home," I reminded her.

"Maybe we should stop." When her eyes met mine I could see the nervous edge behind them. "Now."

Without another word I swerved to the right and pulled into the car park of the diner. Almost every space had been filled to the brim. Hot rays of sun shone down on the metallic car roofs causing them to pop and groan as they expanded. Row after row of vehicles stretched before us, with heat-distortions bending the air above them. It was the end of summer, and the world seemed to be kicking out its last intense waves of heat, burning out before turning cold.

"I don't know if there are any spaces left," I sighed as we circled around for the third time.

I noticed that Sofia's hand was gripping the door handle tightly. Her knuckles were white. "Just stop here." I shot her a confused glance. "Here, now, just stop!"

At her command I slammed on the breaks and the second the car was stationary the passenger door flew open and she was gone. I watched her retreating figure as she darted inside the diner and disappeared. "Fuck," I mumbled, finally finding a lone space in the lot. I parked up and headed inside.

The heat managed to permeate even through the heavy double doors, creeping its way past the air-con unit that groaned and whirred under the strain of soaring temperatures. I wiped the back of a hand across my sweaty brow and took a moment to look around.

Families were packed into the fast-food diner like sardines in a tiny tin; they crushed around tables and stood between them, skin sheened with a layer of perspiration that seemed to coat everything. I scanned the restaurant with a feverish intensity, desperate to be free from the clutches of human contact. People were too close. I caught the bathroom door swinging closed behind a tanned hand just in time.

I could barge in to the bathroom and make a scene, but I suspected that after the events of the day, Sofia needed a little time to fall apart. I ordered two cokes and slid into a sticky booth after a family of five finally shuffled out of it, sweaty skin squeaking against the cracked plastic seating.

Sofia came out of the bathroom ten minutes later. She held a scrunched up piece of tissue in her right hand, and her eyes were red. She slid into the booth opposite me and wrapped her tiny hands around one of the cokes. The glass was slick with condensation. "You should have ordered alcohol," she said flatly. "It's an alcohol kind of day."

"They don't serve it here."

"Porca miseria," she muttered. It took approximately five seconds for the contents of her glass to disappear. When she finished, she dabbed at the corners of her red mouth and set the napkin down again. Without smudging her lipstick, or burping, or even blinking. That was the Sofia I knew. "You know, Florence, I can't remember the last time I just came to a shitty restaurant for the fun of it."

I raised a brow. "He doesn't...take you out?" The issue of Salvo was obviously a sensitive one. It felt strange speaking about him at all, let alone referring to him by name.

"Oh, he takes me out." She pushed her empty glass between her hands, skidding it across the table. "He takes me to business dinners all the time. Wears me on his arm like some sort of crown jewel, like some possession he has to show off."

I finished off my own drink and grabbed my glass, along with hers. "You know what you should do?" Sofia shook her head. "You should buy a big greasy burger."

A half-smile quirked her lips. "Aren't they...disgusting?"

"You've never had one?"

"I grew up on Madre's Italian home-cooking, and Salvo will only eat at fancy restaurants. I haven't exactly had the chance."

"Wait here."

I ordered us both the biggest, unhealthiest burgers I could find along with fries and more cokes. The queue took around ten minutes to actually get through, but when I arrived back at the table and slammed down my tray laden with food, it was worth it. I handed Sofia the brown paper bag her burger was in. Grease had begun seeping through the bottom, darkening the colour slightly. She stared at it with distaste. "Really?"

I nodded. "Try it."

She unwrapped the burger and took a bite. Then she smiled. I opened my mouth, prepared to jump in and say I told you so, but I never got that far. From across the diner, I spotted someone moving quickly towards us. In an expensive suit. Red tie. A frown upon his face.

When Arturo reached us his eyes were blazing. Although his voice was calm as a millpond, the way his jaw clenched tightly was a dead giveaway to his anger. He did not sit, but stood right next to us, eyes fixated on me. I felt like sinking back into the cracked, sticky seats and staying there forever.

"Florence, get in the car," he growled quietly. Not quietly enough. Immediately the tables around us turned their attention our way.

I tried to ignore their stares. "How did you know -"

"The car," he repeated tensely. "Now."

"Arturo-" Sofia tried, but the second he turned to her I felt my breath catch audibly with fear.

"Don't even get me started on you." The disgust and anger in his voice was clear. He took a step closer. "Both of you. In the car."

Now even more customers in the diner had turned their eyes to us, I could feel their stares burning almost as insistently as Arturo's. Sofia must have noticed too. "You need to lower your voice," she said evenly. "Don't make a scene."

Arturo scoffed. "Good at keeping things private, aren't you?"

"Arturo," I warned, though I felt about two feet tall. Only last night he and I had discussed our lack of trust, now I had kept something major from him again. True, I did it for Sofia who needed somebody to rely on, but that didn't make it feel any less awful.

He exhaled heavily and held the bridge of his nose. Then, though his head was down and his words were spoken quietly, I heard what he said next. "If you don't get in that car, I swear to God I will pull my gun and make a scene. Go."

"Please-"

The moment I tried to reason with him he lurched forward and grabbed the tray, sliding it with such force across the table that it flew off the end and crashed into someone at the other side of the diner. The noise was loud enough to attract the attention of the last few people who had remained oblivious. Then, he leaned down with his hands resting on the end of the table, and whispered evenly. "Get in the car."

Sofia grabbed my hands and pulled me through the packed, overheated diner. We did not wait for Arturo. We did not look back. Even when the manager called after us, even when the staff requested that we stop. We didn't.

Sofia didn't release me until we burst outside into the light of day. Then she cupped my cheeks between her hands. "I'm sorry," she breathed.

It was all she had time to say before Arturo came outside.