The pasta's gone cold by the time I actually manage to say something about tomorrow. We've been eating in this half-comfortable silence for fifteen minutes, just the sound of forks against plates and Aunt Clara occasionally asking if I want more water.
"So I was thinking of having some people over tomorrow," I say, staring at the little pile of uneaten peas I've been pushing around my plate. "Just, you know. A few people."
Aunt Clara's fork pauses halfway to her mouth. I can feel her looking at me, but I keep my eyes down.
"That sounds wonderful, Ely," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice without having to see it. "Anyone in particular?"
I shrug one shoulder. "Selma. And Luis." I take a breath. "And Kyra."
Now I do look up, just for a second. Aunt Clara's eyebrows lift slightly at Kyra's name, but she just nods.
"That would be fine. I'll be out for most of the day anyway—I have that thing with Richard."
"The history professor guy?" I ask, even though I know exactly who Richard is. She's mentioned him four times this week.
"Yes, the history professor guy." She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "We're going to that new exhibit at the museum, then dinner."
"Cool." I push another pea. "That's... that's good. You should have fun."
She deserves it. She's done so much for me.
"So what are you all planning to do?" she asks.
"Nothing really. Just hang out, maybe watch something."
She nods, taking a sip of her water. I can tell she wants to say more. There's this look she gets when she's being careful with me, like I'm some fragile artifact in her classroom that might crumble if handled wrong.
"You know," she says finally, "I'm really glad you're connecting with friends, Ely. It's... it's good to see."
I nod, not knowing what to say to that. My throat feels tight suddenly.
"Is Kyra still in the photography club?" she asks, and I know what she's really asking.
"Yeah. She doesn't know it's me." I stare at my plate. "I mean, she might suspect something, but she doesn't know know."
Every time she looks at me like she's trying to figure something out, my stomach flips. But I missed this. I missed her. And no matter how nervous I am, I'm excited. Really, actually excited.
Aunt Clara puts her fork down. "And how do you feel about that?"
"It's fine, I guess." I say.
She lets the silence sit for a moment, then nods. "Well, I think it's brave. Having friends over."
I almost laugh at that, brave. Like inviting three people over to watch movies is climbing Everest or something.
"I can pick up some snacks tomorrow morning before I leave," she offers. "Anything specific you want?"
"Whatever's fine."
Aunt Clara takes a slow sip of her water, then sets the glass down with a deliberateness that makes me nervous. I can feel something coming.
"Ely," she says, her voice soft but steady, "I've been thinking... it might be good for us to talk about what happens if someone does recognize you."
My stomach drops. I push my plate away slightly. "I don't—"
"Not saying anyone will," she adds quickly. "But it's been almost almost 12 months now, and you're starting to build relationships. That's wonderful, but it also means—"
"That someone might figure it out." I finish for her, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. "I know."
She reaches across the table, not quite touching my hand but close enough that I could take hers if I wanted to. I don't.
"Has Kyra said anything specific that makes you think she suspects?"
I shrug. "Just... looks sometimes. And questions about where I lived before. If I had siblings." I swallow. "Yesterday, she caught me drawing and asked about it."
"And what did you say?"
"That I used to but am trying to start again."
Aunt Clara nods. "That's true enough."
"Yeah."
She takes another breath. "You know, sweetheart, it might not be the worst thing if someone you trust learns the truth. Someone from your past, I mean."
It would be the worst thing, I think, but I just stare at the table.
"I'm not saying you have to tell anyone," she continues. "That's entirely your choice. But I want you to know that if it happens... if someone does figure it out... we'll handle it. Together."
My eyes burn and I blink hard. "I can't go through it again," I whisper. "The staring. The whispering. The—" I can't finish.
"I know." Her voice is so gentle it hurts. "But this isn't your old school, Ely. And these aren't the same people."
I want to believe her. I really do.
"And Kyra specifically... from what you've told me, and what I know of her as a student, she seems like someone who might understand."
I look up sharply. "Did you say something to her?"
"No, of course not." She looks slightly hurt that I'd even ask. "I would never. That's your story to tell or not tell."
"Sorry," I mumble, feeling terrible. After everything she's done. "I didn't mean—"
"It's okay." She gives me a small smile. "I just want you to be prepared, that's all. And to know you're not alone in this."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Maybe think about what you might say. If the moment comes. Not that it has to, but... just in case."
"Okay," I manage.
She gets up and starts clearing the plates. I should help, but I can't move. My mind is racing through a hundred scenarios of tomorrow, of Kyra looking at me with that searching expression, of Luis somehow recognizing me from before, of everything falling apart.
"You know what?" Aunt Clara says, her tone deliberately lighter. "I'll get those chips you like. The spicy ones."
I look up at her, this woman who took me in when everything fell apart, who never once made me feel like a burden even though I know I am.
"Thanks," I say, and I mean it for more than just the chips.
She squeezes my shoulder as she passes. "It's going to be okay, Ely. One day at a time, remember?"
"One day at a time," I repeat quietly.
I get up to help with the dishes, my mind still running through what-ifs for tomorrow. But somehow, they don't seem quite as terrifying as they did five minutes ago.