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Carla’s Point of View
I had a name.
I wasn’t sure if it was the right name.
And now, as I sat on an aircraft with my boyfriend beside me and my friend and village lawyer beside him, I suddenly felt small. Not small in the way a boy made me feel when I was fourteen and wanted to hold his hand — small in the way the sea makes you feel when you’re forty meters down, and the shelf drops away into nothing.
Luca was stunned into silence. He’d been stunned since Palermo, since I told him where we were going while the seatbelt signs were still on and he couldn’t leave.
He shook his head.
“This is madness, Carla.”
“You don’t approve of the alternate development?”
“I do, but you are taking on the establishment. It will fail.”