The Faces of Strangers by Pia Padukone

against it. “It’s Mama’s specialty. No one can get it like her.”
    â€œNico, tomorrow after school, Paavo and I take you for ID pickup from city office,” Leo said. He hadn’t touched his plate, but had refilled his vodka tumbler three times since they had sat down at the table.
    â€œI believe Hallström has already applied for one on your behalf,” Paavo said. “So we just have to pick it up.”
    â€œWhat do I need the ID card for?” Nicholas asked.
    â€œEvery Estonian has one, including visitors who will be here for a long time. You need it for everything—voting, parking, transportation,” Vera said.
    Paavo shoveled sult into his mouth. Nicholas could barely stand to watch him. He reminded him of Figaro, Toby’s cat, lowering his lynx-like head to lap up food from a bowl on the floor. He turned his head to watch Vera and Leo, who took large forkfuls in silence, the clicking of their jaws and soft clash of teeth the only sound in the room. From somewhere in the hallway, or the living room, Nicholas presumed, there was the gentle ticking of a clock. The warm meat and the doughy potatoes stabilized his stomach but weighed down his head. His eyelids felt as though they were dripping vodka. He shouldn’t have had that third glass.
    â€œI’m so sorry to be rude,” he said, breaking the silence. “But I just can’t keep my eyes open anymore. Could I—”
    â€œSauna!” Paavo cried. “It’s going to help you sleep through the night. It helps with jet lag.”
    â€œNot tonight, man,” Nicholas said. “I want to try it, but I’m so tired.”
    â€œDon’t bully him, Paavo. Let the boy sleep if he wants to sleep,” Vera said.
    â€œI will turn steam off,” Leo said. He got up from the table and disappeared into the backyard, letting the door slam behind him.
    â€œCome on.” Nicholas followed Paavo down a long hallway. The streetlamp outside cast long amber strands of light into the darkened room, so that Nicholas could see an armchair, a bookshelf and a computer table without a computer tucked into the corner. A sofa bed was opened out already and sheets were tucked into the mattress with tight, crisp corners.
    â€œDon’t even bother turning on the light,” he said to Paavo. “I just want to sleep.”
    â€œDon’t you want to brush your teeth or change your clothes? I can loan you some pajamas if you don’t feel like unpacking.”
    This was not the time to let Paavo know that Nicholas slept in the nude. “Sleep,” Nicholas said.
    â€œUnfortunately, this room doesn’t have a door. It is our family room, but we put this curtain up for you,” Paavo said, pulling a dark piece of what looked like blackout curtain from where it had been tucked behind a rod. “Whenever it’s closed, no one will come in or disturb you.”
    â€œThanks, man.” Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed and felt the ropes of sleep tugging at him to lie back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    â€œSleep well, my friend,” Paavo said. “I will be right upstairs, the first door on the left. Knock if you need anything.” In his dreamlike state, Nicholas understood a whole new meaning to the term nodding off.
    * * *
    In the middle of the night, Nicholas awoke, regretting his refusal to sauna before bed. He lay awake in the dim darkness, the hazy gleam of the streetlights filtering through the gauzy curtains. The ceiling was pockmarked, and Nicholas stared at the constellations of stains above his head. The bed had been comfortable for the first few hours of sleep, but once the jet lag had begun steaming off his warm body, he’d wrestled against the lumpy mattress. Poking a tentative foot outside his blanket, he pulled it back in. The air was frigid outside the little cocoon he’d spun in the sheets from tossing all night. He peered at