When the door closes again, we are all three inside, immersed in the darkness. The rain pounds on the roof but it is quieted by the walls which absorb the sound. The man sets Alice down and walks to a side table. The darkness is suddenly broken by the bright light of an electric lantern.

“I’m gonna try to start the generator,” he says. “I think there’s enough gas in there to last the night. Alice, why don’t you show Molly to the guest room. Get her a towel from the closet.”

He says my name so casually, like we’re old friends.

Towels and guest rooms and lanterns. There are no other family members here, but this will do. Yes, I think. This will do—until I can make the call.

He hands me the lantern and goes back outside. Alice takes off her mask. It’s a white medical mask, the kind you can buy at the drug store. The Chinese tourists wear them in the summer when they visit New York. I’ve used them before when painting a room, though that was years ago, when John and I were just starting out. When we used to do things ourselves because we had more time than money.

The thought of my husband steals my breath because I love him. I still love him. Even if he has stopped loving me.

Alice has bright blue eyes and soft blond hair and skin like snow. It never sees the sun. Still, she is not gaunt. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. And all of these colors—the blue and yellow and white and red, they are stunning. The colors of youth. The colors of a little girl. It fills my heart, then empties through the hole I made five years ago.

I carry the lantern and follow closely behind her through a living room and past a door to a kitchen on the right. Then down a hallway where we stop. She opens a closet which holds towels and blankets and sheets. Normal things. Normal.

She pulls out a worn white bath towel and hands it to me. I take it with one hand and wipe my face dry.

“Come on!” she says cheerfully.

I look down the hallway but don’t get my bearings. There are doors which are all closed.

I want to be dry. I want to be warm. I want the man to return so I can use the phone and call my family. These things all feel close now and so I want them with greater urgency.