It’s been two weeks since I let my sister move in, since we ironed out the rules of her stay. We’re sitting in the doctor’s waiting room behaving as we should—being quiet and keeping our thoughts to ourselves. I’m thinking about all that’s happened lately, but the smell of the clinic we’re sitting in unnerves me and rattles my thoughts. The cleanliness is too pungent, the sterility an affront. I’ve never been able to feel calm in hospitals. When I took Dad in for his weekly treatments, the chemical veil of bleach masking the persistence of death never fooled me. Next to me in the vinyl chair, Ruth’s hands rest on her small belly, but her right foot is jiggling, just like it did all those years ago when we sat together awkwardly in a clinic that looked a lot like this one.

I know I was a little harsh on Ruth at the bakery two weeks ago, so when I came home that day and saw her on the couch watching TV, I told her that I would be there for her, whatever she needed.

“If I’m going to take you in and look after you,” I said, “I’m also going to look after your baby.”

In truth, it was the only way I could take care of all of us. She nodded once, like she’d expected me to react that way all along.

I took the remote and muted her show. “What I’m saying is you’ll need some prenatal care. I’ll make you an appointment for a checkup, okay?”

“Good, because this is about you, too.”

“Me?” I rubbed one eye. “Why is it about me?”

“It’s all about reconnection.” She patted her belly, pleased. Look at me, she was saying. Look at the gift I’ve brought you. “And obviously I was going to ask about a prenatal clinic. I’m already a good mother, you know. I’ve been shopping for a bassinet and everything.” I didn’t undermine her; it seemed counterproductive.

Since that conversation, we have settled into an unsteady rhythm in the loft. Chase is the buffer: at every mealtime, he steers the discussion to happy things—topics that can’t possibly veer off into conflict—for which I’m grateful. I can always depend on his positivity.

Have you ever been to Mexico, Ruth? We have, haven’t we, Alex? Such a beautiful culture, although it’s very important to stay within the hotel grounds. Or, Ruth, have you made it out to Prayer Rock yet? It’s a great hike. Totally doable in your condition. I could go with you. Or we could all go …