I rose slowly, went to the window, and saw it was another beautiful day. Looking down at the street, I did not see Garland’s beautiful carriage parked in front. The street looked as busy as it had when I arrived. My stomach felt as though I had swallowed pebbles. I racked my brain to remember the details of what had happened the night before. So much of it seemed vague, lost in the ether of my crippled memory. Rather than struggle with it further, I took out clothes to wear. As I had feared, it all looked so juvenile for me, especially now. But what else could I do? I couldn’t wear these clothes. I didn’t care to smell them. They were drowned in the odor of the limoncello and Garland’s cigar. I was surprised Hazel hadn’t noticed. Maybe she had but was too polite to ask about it.

I went down slowly, hearing my great-aunt and Hazel talking in the living room, and went directly to the bathroom to wash. I stripped completely naked to clean my whole body. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I still felt unclean. There was a spot of blood near my right knee. I could never claim it had all been a dream.

I dressed and brushed my hair. When I stepped out, my great-aunt and Hazel were sitting at the table.

“Everything’s ready,” Hazel said. “Know who this is, Nettie?” she asked my aunt.

“Is it . . .” She stopped and shook her head.

“It’s Rosemary and Harrington’s daughter, Corrine, here to visit. This is your great-niece, Corrine Dixon.”

Great-aunt Nettie nodded. “Rosemary was always so shy,” she said, probably misunderstanding and still thinking I was my mother. She looked at her food.

Hazel smiled and shrugged. “I made coffee. You like coffee?”

“Like it or not, I need it,” I muttered, more to myself. My eyes were still aching. I pinched my temples between my thumb and fingers and pressed.

Hazel went into the kitchen to bring out the pot of coffee. Right now, that was all I wanted.

My great-aunt looked up at me. “Is my sister here, too?”

Her sister? My mother’s mother?

“No, Aunt Nettie. Only I am here.”

“No one comes here anymore,” she said. “No one wants to see you when you’re old. Do you know why?”

I shook my head. Somehow the sight of me was bringing back the power of whole sentences and thoughts for her.

“It reminds them of what they’ll be. My mother told me that.” She paused. “You ever see my mother?”

“No, Aunt Nettie. I’m too young to have seen your mother.”

Hazel brought me a cup of hot coffee. “I heard her talking. That’s the most she’s said in a long time,” she added, smiling. “Very nice that you’ve come to see her, dearie.”

I sipped my coffee.