Page 119 of Here We Go Again

Like every Greek dad she’s ever met, Yiannis foists as much food on her as she can stomach. And Logan can stomach quite a lot. The “snack” he prepares to accompany the wine includes freshly made spanakopita, cold slices of lamb, Greek lasagna, pita with tzatziki, and baklava for dessert. Logan ravenously eats all of it, letting the food soak up the caffeine while Yiannis makes small talk.

How’s your dad?

How’s teaching?

Are you still living in Vista Summit?

What brought you to New England?

Do you want to hear more about your wunderkind half-siblings, who are richer, prettier, smarter, neurotypical versions of you?

Sophie simply studies Logan like she’s some fascinating new species on display at the zoo until Yiannis is convinced that Logan is truly full. Then, he gives himself a generous pour of the retsina and makes a clumsy excuse to leave the kitchen.

Sophie and Logan are alone with only a breakfast bar between them.

“Oh, just ask me!” Sophie practically shouts into the silence.

Logan slowly sets down her wine. “Okay… why did you leave, Sophie?”

Her mother bursts into tears. “I’m sorry.” She chokes through a dramatic sob, reaching for a cloth napkin. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Logan finds herself entirely unmoved by her mother’s crying. She didn’t come here to assuage her mother’s guilt about abandoning her. “I don’t need you to be sorry,” she says. “I just want to know why.”

Sophie blots at her eye makeup. “Because I wasn’t happy!”

“Being my mom?”

“What? No!” She comes around the breakfast counter and sits on the stool next to Logan. “I was unhappy with your dad. We wanted different things out of life. Your dad was content with a small life in Vista Summit, with the same small Greek community we grew up in, with doing the same thing every day, with never leaving. I neededmore.”

“And you found your big life in Burlington, Vermont?” Logan seethes. She didn’t come here to be angry with her mom, either, but she finds the emotion readily available to her.

“Yiannis and Itraveled!” Sophie explains. “We’ve seen the world together! We spent six months sailing around the Aegean, homeschooling the children on deck. You haven’t seen Naxos until you’ve seen it in early spring.”

“I’ve never seen Naxos at all. Or anywhere else in Greece.” She feels her bitterness grow, and she realizes it was never hope that drove her here. It was fury. “So, I was part of that small life you hated?”

“Of course not!” Sophie puts a hand on Logan’s thigh. “It had nothing to do with you!”

Logan yanks her thigh away and laughs. “Of course it hadsomething to do with me. Youleftme. You made me believe I was easy to leave!”

She fumbles through some half-baked lie. “I-I tried to take you with me, but your father wouldn’t let me!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you foughtreallyhard for me. Tell me, Sophie. Did my dad stop you from ever visiting? From flying me out to see you? From taking me on one of your family trips?”

Logan already knows the answer to these questions, but she revels in the way each one lands on her mother’s facial expression like an emotional slap. Antonio Maletis spent years trying to protect Logan from the truth about her mother: that Sophie Haralambopoulous was selfish and self-centered, reckless with the feelings of others, and terrified of ever looking inward.

And the worst part is, in trying to avoid ever feeling the pain of her abandonment again, Logan became just like her mom.

“I was eleven years old, and you left me! You made me feel like I was too muchandnot enough. You made me believe no one would ever stick around for me.”

Sophie’s bottom lip quivers.

“Oh, stop that! You’re not the victim here, and the least you can do after twenty years of pretending I don’t exist is to listen to me!”

Her mom’s pouting stops instantly, almost like it was never real in the first place.

“When I started my period in seventh grade, I usedleavesas pads because I was too embarrassed to talk to Dad about it. My ninth-grade English teacher had to teach me how to use a tampon. And it’s fine! I didn’t need a mom. I had Dad, and I had Joe, and they were more than enough. But sometimes, I wantedyou. When I kissed my best friend the summer after eighth grade, I wanted to talk toyouabout it, but you weren’t there, and since then, I’ve never been able to trust that anyone will stay.”

Sophie blinks again. “Who’s Joe?” Like that was her only takeaway from Logan’s speech.