I told the girls that she was sick. I did not name this sickness, and they did not ask. I told them that until Lillian got better she would need the bedroom for herself, so I slept on the sofa and the girls slept beside me on the living room floor. The first day after Lillian’s appointment, I took the girls to the Metropolitan Museum. The second day, I took them to the Natural History Museum. You can pay just a penny in these places, and they will admit you. The girls were too young to enjoy such long trips, but I did my best. On the morning of her birthday, Samantha came into the bedroom so that her mother could sing to her. In the Hall of North American Mammals that afternoon, I saw her walking with a limp. Samantha, does your leg hurt? I asked. Is something wrong with your shoe? I am turning into an orphan, she said. I promised that she was turning into a six-year-old girl with a mother who would feel better very soon. She shook her head. She explained to me that she was half an orphan already. She held out her arm and the limping leg. This half, she said.

That night I sat with Lillian after the girls were asleep. I think it happened today, Lillian said. Did you see it? I asked. No, she said, but so much came out that I can’t imagine there’s anything left. The pain was so big, she said. Worse than giving birth? I asked. It was probably the same, she said, but because she did not know if things were happening the way they should, she had thought she was dying.

I am sorry I was not with you, I told her. Then you would not have been with Samantha, Lillian said, and that would have been worse. Then I am not sorry, I said. I will buy you some new sheets, she said. Don’t be silly, I said, we are sisters, and sisters do not mind such things. People will think I’m too short to be your sister, Lillian said. People think that Kaja is too black to be my daughter, I said. Fuck people, Lillian said.

On the morning of the third day, Lillian left the bedroom and announced that she was better. By the sixth day, I think that she nearly was.

58. Diner, Brooklyn, 1962