I kneel carefully. The freshly mowed grass is warm and spiky on my bare legs. I sit cross-legged in front of her as she opens the velvet pouch she’d been carrying and sets out a few stones on the ground between us: a bright green one shaped like a small, gnarled fist; a purple-and-white stone with a few rocky points—amethyst, I think; and a smoky quartz. To my surprise, Patricia arranges a few other items in front of us, items I’d never thought to bring to a grave: a smaller pouch with a bit of fruit in it, a plate with cornbread, and an empty mug that she fills with tea.

“I don’t know who my ancestors are, past my great-grandmother anyway.”

Patricia shrugs. “Lots of Black folks in the States don’t know their people more than four, five generations back, don’t know names before the late 1800s—and why would they? We didn’t exactly inherit detailed family records when we were freed.” She keeps arranging her offerings, not looking in my direction as she does.

I’m filled with a sour sense of betrayal, akin to the feeling I felt looking up at the Order’s Wall. “I never even met my grandmother.”

Patricia’s head tilts toward me, her expression curious. “You never met your grandmother?”

I bristle. “No.”

“She died before you were born?”

“Yes.”

“No aunts on her side of the family? Great-aunts?”

“No.” Frustration sparks in me, like a match has struck my insides, turned them to fire. Suddenly, my skin feels too tight all over my body. The fine hairs on the back of my neck lift. My vision blurs. I don’t need to be reminded how alone I am. How lost.

“Bree, breathe.” She speaks softly, but her order is firm. “Take slow breaths in through your nose.” I hear Patricia speak, but her voice arrives from far away.

I do as she says until my heart slows down, but my throat is still the size of a straw. I have to clear it twice to get any words out. “So, what are we doing here?”

She smiles. “Do you trust me?”

I blink. “That’s usually what someone says when they’re about to do something weird to somebody else.”

She grins. “I can handle weird if you can.”

I think about all that’s happened in the last week of my life. “I can handle real weird.”