Alina and Ava

New York City, New York

Alina and Ava sat in the booth across from us at a Greek diner. Not to sound trite, but was the kind of place I imagined Toula's family owning in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Where scrambled eggs and moussaka are served side by side, cheap wine is served by the carafe full, and they really mean "free refills" when it comes to coffee. 

The girls were laughing over Snapchats and Instagrams — mixing virtual news with conversation is how gossip is done these days — when I approached them. 

"We're from New York City," they told me. 

"How are you feeling about America right now?" I asked. 

Unlike most young adults, they didn't look at each other for confirmation before speaking: "Bleak." 

Ava expanded first. "I was in Japan on Election day," she told me. "I called my mom on FaceTime and we cried together. She wished I could just stay in Japan. I asked her if anything in American every felt this dire before."

"Had it?" I asked. 

"No." 

Alina chimed in. "Nothing feels real," she said. 

"Can you tell me about a time it really felt unreal?" 

"I volunteer at the library. The other day, we were all listening to NPR — it was a bunch of older white people and me, fixing books, and the anchors mentioned it was 10 days before Trump became president. Everyone stopped, literally stopped what they were doing, and listened." 

Ava's story reminded me of a conversation my mom and I had after 9/11. She and my dad had dropped me off at college (Go Ducks!) on 9/10, and two days later, they were driving away, back to California. 

"Were you scared, leaving me there?" I'd asked. 

"No," she replied. "I was relieved. It seemed safer than anywhere else."