She dry-swallowed the yellow pill, screwed the lid back on the jar, and shifted her attention to the television. Turner Classics was having a Joseph Cotten marathon. Kate was partial to Joseph Cotten. She especially loved him in Portrait of Jennie. Her mother used to tell her she looked like Jennifer Jones, the mysterious woman who captures struggling artist Cotten’s imagination…and heart. What Kate saw in the mirror now was a far cry from Jennifer Jones. Her long, chestnut hair had gotten brittle, her eyes perpetually ringed by dark circles and puffy bags. It was hard to maintain her weight, so her cheeks had sunk, kind of the way she’d wished they would when she was a kid and thought Kate Moss was the most beautiful woman in the world. I was a stupid kid, she reminded herself. She’d give anything for some cellulite right about now.

Checking the channel guide, she was disappointed they weren’t playing Portrait of Jennie today. Oh, but Niagara was going to be on after dinner. No one had ever told Kate she looked like Marilyn Monroe. Then again, who did? Maybe that poor girl Anna Nicole Smith, and look what happened to her.

Kate had to pee, but her ankles, knees, and hips felt like they were on fire, the swelling pushing the limits of her reddened skin. She could see the bathroom just down the short hall, but it might as well have been in another state.

“Too bad you’re not bigger,” she said to the dog. “Like one of those Scottish deerhounds. I could saddle you up and ride you to the potty.” Buttons looked up at her with his sad, moist eyes. “But no, I had to fall in love with a beagle.”

He licked her hand and snuggled his head back between his paws.

“Can you at least pee for me? You’re very good at peeing.”

His tail wagged but his eyes remained closed. He was tired and she was disturbing him.

The pill should take effect soon. Once it took the harsh edge off the pain, she could finally sleep. She’d worry about peeing later. The shadow would go right back where it belonged. Into the ether.

If she fell asleep now, she’d only miss Peking Express, not one of her favorites. A nice two-hour nap, or what she preferred to call a controlled coma, would have her waking up right around the time Andrew came home. Maybe she could get dinner started before he dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, which meant ordering up some grub on one of the many apps on her phone.

“But-But, you wanna veg out with Mommy?” she said, patting the daybed. Buttons jumped right up, taking his spot between her legs and the back cushion, always careful not to rest his weight on her.