In the evenings, Robin took to leaving the music room door open. If I yelled, or croaked, rather, “What was that?” he played the piece again for me, adding his commentary. “Listen to that transition. Stealthy or what? Sneaking up on you . . .” Or: “Everything’s sweet until that E natural. That’s where the doubt comes in. That E natural will break your heart . . .”

I had avoided the Brahms C-major Trio because Robin was always talking it up, but on one of my good days he made me listen from beginning to end and I went OCD on the scherzo. I played it over and over on my phone. The violins crazily stacking things up, the piano knocking them down . . . and at the end the cello making a point of telling me that no matter what happened or how sad it got, the world was beautiful and I was safe. It was like being chased uphill and running downhill into the arms of your mother. I wasn’t too proud to tell Robin that. He might have been the only one I could tell.

Fiona and Vicky came less often and did more of the talking. Vicky had split up with Wade and was going out with Kevin Stockhaus, who was nineteen and doing drama at the conservatory.

“He is so smart. Not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. We have so much in common.” She found a picture on her phone and passed it to Fiona, who passed it to me. I raised my head to look and I had to admit gorgeous was no exaggeration. Curly hair, rectangular smile, muscular neck. Unlike the ones she usually went for, he looked like a truly nice guy. You can tell by the eyes. Maybe Vicky would get her heart broken this time.

I handed the phone back, catching sight of my bony arm as I did so. I was the reason for their visit, but I felt like everyone belonged here except me. I let the pillow take my head. “Are we going to meet him?” I said.

“Definitely. Whenever you want.”

“So what’s his USP?” asked Fiona.

“His Unique Selling Point,” Vicky confided, lowering her voice in case my mother was around, “is his big c . . .”

Fiona was hooting.

“. . . car. Family size,” whispered Vicky, and the two of them collapsed in their chairs, screaming soundlessly.

When she could speak, Fiona gave a moan. “I’m dying here.”

“I’m done.” Vicky wiped her lower lids one at a time with the back of her finger. “I am so, so done.”

“Are you okay, Maddy?” Fiona’s voice floated near. “Did you hear that?”

Her elfin face was above me, ready to do whatever I asked. I longed for both of them to go.

“My hearing’s perfect.”

“Want some coffee?” asked Vicky behind her. “I can get us some coffee.”

“No, thanks. But go in the kitchen and make some. Mom won’t mind.”