“Everything will be fine,” my mother answered as she used a brass key to open the door. “Just come inside.”

How do I describe what I smelled the moment I entered that house? Simply put, I smelled art. It smelled of paper and charcoal and glasses tinged with colored water. It smelled of sweat and risk and inspiration. The old wood floors creaked as we inched closely behind my mother. She turned to us and smiled and then I heard a voice coming from the other room. It was soft and gentle and then the woman to whom it belonged entered the room.

She said her name was Leah.

Matilda stopped dead in her tracks the moment we laid eyes upon her, but she never told me why. Leah’s hair had shards of light that glistened even though she wasn’t standing in the sun. Her lips were the shade of pink that mine sometimes got after I sucked too many cherryflavored Lifesavers. Her voice was so melodic that, as she spoke, I got lost in her music and forgot to pay attention to what she was saying. Her name was beautiful, too. Like my mother’s, it had a silent H, except the H in Therese’s name hid behind the T like it was scared to be noticed. The H in LeaH stood proudly at the end, and if you listened very closely, it would make itself heard.

“You must be tired from your trip,” Leah said.

Matilda stood in front of me. “Who are you?”

Leah smiled and then looked down at the ground. “I am an old friend of your mother’s.”

When she looked back up, I realized she was staring at me. I felt my sister shift so that she covered me even more. “Why are we here?”

“We are having a visit.” My mother smiled and then whispered something to Leah, who then led us upstairs into a room the color of cucumbers. It took a few minutes for me to notice little painted pixie fairies on the walls—each standing on her toes and fluttering her wings as if she were about to go soaring around the room. I eased myself onto one of the beds and Matilda sat opposite me, her eyes fixed upon the fairy directly above my head. After Leah and my mother left, she came and sat beside me. She held my hand and we sat together, silently.

Side by side.

I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but when I woke the room was caught in that space between darkness and light. The kind of color that makes you wonder if the day is just about to begin or end. Matilda was curled up on the bed opposite mine so I tried to be quiet, but secretly hoped my movements would wake my sister. She barely stirred.