She pushed herself farther back into the cushion and she smiled as she spoke. “He was young and funny and the art he made was nothing like I had ever seen.”

I could feel the letters poking at me, so I pursed my lips. “Is that why you loved him?”

“I loved him because I could run away into his paintings. I could disappear inside of them.”

My heart was pounding in my head, making my thoughts jumble together. I needed to know why she loved him, because I needed to know why she loved me. And I needed to know what he did to break her.

“I should have listened to Therese.”

Lately she had gotten into the habit of referring to my mother by name.

“Did she know him? My mother?”

Leah nodded. “Therese knows things about people. I don’t know how, but she does.”

“You wish you had never met him.”

“No, Franny, I am grateful I met him. He gave me something that I will never be able to repay him for.” She brought her teacup to her lips, softly blowing across the surface.

I laid my head down in her lap because I wanted to feel her hand on me. Like we were connected. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling myself in even more.

“One day I will tell you about the people who teach you to find your courage and the ones who help you become the person you were always supposed to be.”

I nodded, but it didn’t really matter because all I knew was that she was going to tell me these things someday, which meant that there were more days to come.

Therese

She liked sleeping with the window open. The breeze blew in across a box of tissues, making the one on top wave like a white flag. The cool air was not enough to soothe her, so she got up and walked to the bathroom. She wrapped her arms around her waist, remembering what it felt like when Matilda was growing inside and how excited it made Leah to feel her kick. She thought about how much Leah wanted a child, yet how clearly frightened she was to care for one. It was as though she didn’t trust herself. Therese’s thoughts always led to Leah, like a stray thread unraveling in her mind.

She turned off the light and sat at the edge of the bed. Tim was snoring just enough to remind her that he was there. Kicking her foot through a heap of his clothes, she watched a shoe fly through the air. She circled her toe in the sheets and then pushed herself up against his back. Hoping he would wake, she nudged him a few times, and when he didn’t, she pinched the skin on the back of his arm. He swatted at her so she pinched harder.

“What?” he muttered.

“Wake up.”

“Why?”