Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“How else would two emotionless robots accurately play the part of
grieving parents?” Ariana says, just barely keeping her voice down.
“Have they really been that bad?” I ask, glancing over Stella’s shoulder at
Papá, who walks over to a sideboard near the doorway, pulling out a cigar
and lighting up. Something I’ve never seen him do outside his office.
“It’s been pretty bad,” Ari says, rubbing her palms over her arms. “Papá
is rarely home. Stella thinks he has a mistress.”
Stella sputters, shaking her head wildly, dislodging some of the light
brown hair from her low bun. “I didn’t say that. I said I’d be surprised if he
didn’t, which is not the same as an accusation.”
“Whatever,” Ari says. “I’m sure he does have one. You know Mamá
doesn’t put out anymore. Not since her affair.”
My heart practically falls out of my chest, that single sentence a wrecking
ball to my entire worldview. I swing my gaze to hers, then back at my sisters,
trying to process what they’ve just said.
“Sorry,” I say, blinking. “Her what?”
Ariana and Stella glance at each other uneasily, as if trying to decide what
all they should tell me. Stella glances down, noticing the diamond on my left
ring finger for the first time, and it completely steals her attention, cutting off
whatever they were about to say.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she says, yanking my hand closer to her face.
“That’s freaking huge.”
“I’ll bet it’s not the only thing that’s huge—”
“Enough!” Papá snaps, stalking over and grabbing Ariana’s wrist,
twisting it backward as he drags her away from me.
My eyes flicker to Kal, who stands back silently, hands shoved deep in
his suit pockets. That muscle beneath his eye thumps erratically, the only sign
that he’s at all bothered by any of this.
Or maybe he’s not bothered by how my parents are acting, so much as the
fact that he’s here, having to endure the interactions at all.
“I’ve had enough shame put on la famiglia between the two of you,” Papá
says, starting from the room, pulling Ariana along with him. “You’ll wait on
the rooftop for Father Sabino.”
“The rooftop?” She strains against him as he leads her up the winding
staircase. “What are you going to do, push me off?”
“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Ariana. You’re lucky I don’t put you in a