The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building my parents had moved to after the farm closed about two months ago. I didn’t know this new place yet, but goose bumps chilled the skin on my arms when I stepped onto the snow-covered sidewalk.

The building was downtown in one of the small towns around Minneapolis. It was four floors high, the balconies were gone as if they had just fallen off, the paint was peeling, and there was a metal security door over the wooden one, both looked old and weak. I bet I could punch and break them.

Holding my coat tighter with one hand, I rang the buzzer but nobody answered. Instead my mother showed up at the door with a huge smile.

“Nadine!” She unlocked the three thousand bolts on the metal door and pulled me into a hug. “Oh, Lord, it’s so good to see you.” Her smile turned into a sob. “I thought … I thought you had gotten stuck there. I thought I had lost you.”

I rubbed her back. It was good to see her after so long, after what happened. “I got away, and I’m here now.” I wasn’t sure for how long though.

She pulled back and looked at me. She probably thought I was too thin, with not enough clothes on in this cold, and other things every mom thought. But she didn’t say them aloud. As I didn’t say how she had lost weight, how her once full and long brown hair looked dry and thin, how her skin was pale, and how her bright green eyes had lost their usual energetic shine.

She patted my cheek before taking my hand and guiding me inside the building. The hallway was as bad as the outside. She led me past the stairs, into a short corridor on the first floor, and pushed open the last door.

“Home, sweet home,” she said in an uncomfortable voice.

The place was tiny. Too tiny. The orange fabric of the couch and the armchair was ripped and faint, as if it were fifty years old. Scratches covered the wooden center table. Worn patches stamped the brown rug. The floor looked like a second-hand toy land. It was a tiny, chaotic, falling-into-pieces place. There were three doors, besides the one we had just entered. One led to a patio, a second led to the kitchen, and the third led to a hallway.

A pang ran through my heart. Oh my God, it was worse than their previous house.

“Where’s everyone?”

She grabbed my tote and turned to the hallway. “The kids are at school. They should arrive in about two hours, and your father is doing some job, I don’t know where. I can’t keep track of all he does.”

I followed her into the hallway, noticing there were only two bedrooms and one bathroom.

“Sorry. We’re going to have to rearrange.” She entered a bedroom with a bunk bed that clearly couldn’t hold the weight of a cat, a twin bed in the corner, and a dresser squeezed between the beds. That was it. There was barely room between the furniture to turn around.

My parents’ bedroom was across the hall, and it was worse. The queen mattress was on the floor against a moldy wall. Their clothes were folded on the floor, against another moldy wall. And once more, there was no space to turn around.

It was horrible. This whole place was horrible.

“I know it’s not much, but after the farm was gone, we weren’t left with much,” she said, her voice low, embarrassed. “I’m sure things will get better though. Your father is working a lot, and I’m trying to find some other work instead of babysitting. We’ll be fine eventually.”

I didn’t know what to say. If she had told me things were this bad, I would have sent more money. I would have abstained from the black coffees I bought everyday. I would have eaten a little less and not bought so many books. I would have taken fewer classes and worked more hours. I would have done something. Anything.

Mom pushed me inside the bedroom my siblings shared. “Why don’t you rest for a while? I’m sure you’re tired, and once Nicole, Teddie, and Tommy get home, they won’t leave you alone, so you better take advantage now.”

There was so much I needed to do, think about, to decide, but I was tired after spending the entire night on a train, and then the taxi ride from Minneapolis to here. I could use a little sleep.

I nodded, and she offered me a smile before closing the door.

I looked around, but there was nothing else to see. My chest ached for them. Oh God, this was a terrible way to live, and the fact that I couldn’t help anymore hurt too much.

I sat on the twin bed, feeling exhausted and miserable.

I had no idea if my things had been brought from the previous house to this apartment, and anything else I had of any value had been burned in New York City. The only thing I still had was my tote with a few books and my wallet with my bank card. I had a little money in my account I could give my mom, but that wouldn’t help long term. She would be able to buy groceries for this month, and maybe a change of clothes for each of my siblings, but that was it. Nothing more.

The tears came without warning, and I let them fall. I was tired of trying to be strong—and failing. My life as I knew it was gone: my scholarship was gone, my job was gone, my colleagues and classmates were gone. At least Raisa had gotten out. But everything else was gone. Not to mention the precarious conditions my family was living in, and the fact that my perfect plan to save them was gone.

I lay down on the bed, hugging Nicole’s pink pillow and savoring her sweet baby scent.

I had to be strong for them. I had to fight for them, but right now I just needed to get this terrible feeling of helplessness out of my system.

* * *

“Are you done with that?” my mother asked.

“Almost.” I chopped the last onion and passed the cutting board to her. “Done.”

She took it and dumped the chopped onion inside the pot on the stove. She mixed the contents with a wooden spoon and reduced the heat. “Should be ready in twenty minutes,” she said, putting the lid over the pot.

I turned around the kitchen, almost hitting my elbow on a cabinet. Everything was tiny in this place. Everything. Even the fridge looked more like a compact refrigerator than what it was supposed to be.

I sighed, trying not to think about that. “What else can I help with?”

“Hmm, you could set the table.”

I frowned. The table consisted of a classroom desk-sized table in the corner of the kitchen. Four stools surrounded it, but there was no way more than two people could sit there at a time.

Keeping my thoughts to myself, I did what she asked.

I was grabbing the mismatching glasses when Nicole burst into the kitchen, dragging a pink stuffed bunny by the ear. I had given it to her when she was born. It looked old and dirty, but she never let go of Pinky. She even took it to school, and I was somewhat proud of it.

“Are you done helping?” Nicole asked, looking up at me with huge bright green eyes. She moved back and forth on her heels, making her pretty, curly hair bounce. She was my six-year-old angel, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again each time my eyes met hers.

I ran a hand on the top of her head. “Almost.”

“That’s okay, Nadine,” my mom said. “I cook every night alone. I can do it tonight again. Give them some attention.”

I didn’t argue. I hadn’t seen them in so long, and I was dying to experience how much they had grown and changed, and to play with them.

Nicole grabbed my hand and pulled me to the living room, where Tommy and Teddie were wrestling. Teddie was ten and a lot taller than Tommy, who was eight, but he played it down, letting Tommy win some rounds. There was no TV at home to keep them entertained, but my mom kept a radio on in the kitchen at all times, broadcasting news and music.

When he was born, Teddie looked exactly like Troy. I remembered the first day, when it was odd looking at him. It was as if Troy had come back to life, though I knew it couldn’t be. I had no idea how Troy would have turned out since he died before he was six months old, but Teddie was cute. He would break many hearts when he grew older. All of them would.

Sighing, I sat down on the couch, and Nicole climbed on my lap. I squeezed her, wishing with all my soul the world would stop getting worse so my siblings had a chance to grow up, to build less miserable lives. Way less miserable.

God, I couldn’t really stop and think about the future. It hurt too much. And I had no idea how to help anymore. Without NYU, my scholarship, and my job, I couldn’t help. I was actually a burden. Everything I vowed I would never be.

I had to think and come up with a plan. I couldn’t stay here and make things worse.

“Sing for me,” Nicole said.

I smiled. I would leave the thinking and planning for after they had gone to bed.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Don’t you have one of your own songs?”

“Hmm.” Not really. I had never had time to write songs down, though lyrics of several pieces of my own were stored in my memory. “I know one.”

Nicole jumped off my lap and went into her bedroom.

“Hey, where are you going?” I asked, confused.

She came back, dragging Pinky and my old Spanish guitar.

“Where did you find this?” I asked, taking it from her hands.

“It was under my bed. I grabbed it for you when we left the other house. I thought you might want it.”

My heart squeezed a little. After everything, she still thought of me.

I pulled her into an embrace. “I do want it. Thanks, Nikkie.”

She sat beside me and nudged the guitar.

I took it, cleared my throat, and sang an old song written before I was born, one that I had sung to them every night when I put them to bed, when I still lived with them. Lullaby by Dixie Chicks.

After the first verse, Teddie and Tommy stopped wrestling and sat down at my feet, swaying with the tune.

“I missed that song,” Tommy whispered between verses.

My eyes filled with tears, and I noticed Mom was leaning against the doorway, watching us with a smile on her face. I fought so my voice wouldn’t crack and I wouldn't cry in front of them.

“More!” Nicole yelled, as soon as I stroked the last chord.

Mom took three steps to the couch and kissed my forehead. “I’ll never get tired of listening to you sing.”

Tommy and Teddie argued about which song I had to sing next. I didn’t wait for them to decide before I played another. They quieted down immediately.

“Wow,” Mom said, her eyes wide. “If you can calm them down that easily, I will ask you not to leave us ever again.”

I almost missed the right chord. I knew she was joking, but it didn’t change the fact that I should leave them sooner than she expected me to. I still hadn’t made up my mind about how many days I could stay, but I had decided that more than a week would be too much.

One more thing for my after-the-kids-go-to-bed to-do list: to decide when I would leave and where I would go.

* * *

Dad arrived just in time for dinner. He seemed surprised to see me, and he hugged me tight. Under my arms, I noticed how weak and thin he was.

“Glad to have you here,” he said, pushing back and looking at me.

While he had lost weight, his face had gained a few wrinkles since the last time I had seen him.

“I’m glad to be here too.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of Teddie’s, Tommy’s, and Nicole’s heads. They barely paid him attention as they played a board game on the floor.

“Come on, dear,” my mom called him. “Dinner is ready.”

The kids had already eaten. Mom had insisted I eat too, but I preferred to wait for Dad so we could eat together, even if we had to squeeze around the tiny table.

Mom served us, and then sat down with us. As I predicted, we were crammed and our plates touched each other on the table.

To keep my mind off that, I started a conversation. “So, Dad, what were you working on?”

“I have been working for the mayor,” he said.

“Really?”

“With all that is happening, the mayor wants to build a wall around the city, keep guards at the gate, and supervise everyone who comes and goes. So, I’ve been helping. I’ve been building the wall.”

A wall like NYU had. A wall that had done nothing other than delay a major attack for about five minutes. There had not been enough time to run and find shelter, especially when the city burned to the ground.

However, I didn’t mention that to my parents. If the wall brought a little internal peace to the townspeople, then so be it. Besides, this heavy work had probably given jobs to many unemployed adults.

My mother touched my hand. “Nadine, will you tell us what happened to New York City? What did you see, and how did you escape?” I stared at her. “I’m sorry, honey. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. It must hurt, I know.”

“It hurts, but I guess I can tell you.”

I opened my mouth, and the words I had rehearsed with Keisha and Raisa rolled off my tongue. It was easier than telling the truth.

I thought of the girls for a second. I wondered if they made it home, if Chicago and Richmond were still intact. Then I thought about what I had told Keisha, if she believed me, or if now that she was safe at home she thought I was insane and everything we had been through had been a nightmare.

I wished.

“You’re blessed for escaping,” my mom whispered. Wiping her tears, she stood up. “Go play with the kids. I can clean up here.” She grabbed our plates and put them in the sink.

I stood. “I want to help.”

“I can help your mom,” Dad said.

“But—”

My phone rang, and Mom smiled at me. “Answer it,” she said.

I excused myself, walked into the kids’ bedroom, and fished the phone from my pocket while closing the door.

Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Nadine, hi.”

“Victor? What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said. I sat down on Nicole’s bed, not sure what else to say. “Look, I need to see you.”

“Oh, you’re in pain.”

He didn’t answer me right away. “Yeah.” He took a long breath. “But I don’t want to go to you because I don’t want to risk having demons follow me there.”

Good point. I didn’t want that either.

Wait. He knew where I was? Well, thinking about it, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out where I could have gone. One more reason to leave soon.

“What do you suggest then?” I asked.

“You could take a taxi to Minneapolis and meet me in a public place. Or maybe not, considering what happened to New York City. You could take a cab to a gas station or motel outside of Minneapolis.”

Out of habit, I grabbed a thick piece of my hair and twisted it around my finger. That would mean a twenty- to thirty-minute drive. In a cab. Paid. With money I shouldn’t be spending because I had to buy groceries for my family.

“Victor, I can’t.”

“I just looked online and found a taxi company. I’ll send one to pick you up. You just need to tell me a time.”

He would pay for it? I knew he was loaded as a human, and I couldn’t imagine how rich a god could be. I wouldn’t argue with that.

“I’ll walk my siblings to school at eight thirty tomorrow morning. The taxi can pick me up right after.”

“Okay,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

He ended the call before I could answer. I stared at the phone confused. “See you tomorrow.”