Page 31 of Ivory Ashes

“I know,” he says without an ounce of doubt in his voice. “Do we still have to go?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I wish we didn’t have to, but?—”

“Clifford,” he says, cutting me off. “I’ve had him the longest and he’s the fluffiest. I’ll take Clifford with me.”

I crush him in another hug, plant a barrage of kisses on his cheeks, and finally let him go once he’s giggling and squealing.

He runs off to take care of Clifford while I throw anything I can’t bear to part with in a bag.

During a last sweep of the apartment, I pluck the picture of Dante and me at the carousel off of the wall and throw it on top of the bag. Then Dante meets me at the front door, his T-rex backpack strapped to his shoulders and Clifford tucked under his arm.

“You ready, bud?” I ask, tousling his hair.

He ducks under my hand and grabs the doorknob. “I’m going to beat you down the stairs!”

He doesn’t know this is our last race down the stairs. He doesn’t know we aren’t coming back. That the landlord is going to put the rest of our stuff out on the curb for scavengers.

I want to hug him in the doorway and weep, but that won’t help anything. Dante needs me to be strong for him. He needs me to keep it together.

I chuckle as he darts out the door onto the landing. “Okay, but make sure you wait for me at the mailb?—”

I see the figure out of the corner of my eye and reach for the tiny arm of Dante’s T-rex backpack. But I miss.

Dante runs out of my reach and straight into the person standing at the top of our stairs.

“Oh,” Dante squeaks, stumbling back.

I grab my son and shove him behind me, but it’s too late.

It was too late the moment I heard Mikhail’s voice coming towards me down the hallway this morning. The last few hours have been nothing but a delusion.

Mikhail looks past me to the little boy peeking from behind my back. The boy with the same ice blue eyes and golden brown hair.

Mikhail looks past me to his son. And I see the truth light up in his eyes: he knows.

Now, there is no place left to run.

11

VIVIANA

“That’s my son,” Mikhail breathes.

He says it softly like he’s trying to convince himself. But it doesn’t take much convincing. Not once you see Dante and Mikhail in the same room.

“Mama…” Dante grabs onto my leg. He’s always been shy around new people. Mostly because he hasn’t met very many of them. I keep our circle small on purpose.

I squat down next to him. He’s taller than me like this, so I have to look up to see his eyes, though he keeps sneaking glances at Mikhail.

Does Dante see the resemblance, too? Does he know?

“Go back inside, okay?” I wrinkle my nose in a smile. “I’ll come get you in a minute.”

“Can I watch a show?”

I wordlessly swipe to his favorite show on my phone and hand it to him. Strict screen time rules can take a back seat, seeing as how life as we know it is on the brink of collapse.

Dante sinks into the far end of the couch, Clifford sitting next to him. He smiles as the theme song plays. I pull the door closed behind me.

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