M had a whole new set of European suits for the office, Italian or English maybe. Fitted. Half-lined and light for summer. He looked really good. He had new sunglasses with little round lenses and tortoiseshell frames that he took on and off when we walked into apartments and out of them. His new leather loafers were so soft inside that I had actually gasped when I slipped them on, once, at the hotel, while he was asleep. I had actually gasped.

We chose the apartment closest to M’s work. Besides, M said, it’s only temporary, next year we’ll buy a house on the lake. Won’t you like that, he said. I liked the apartment though, I liked being close to him during the day. Me and the kids at home, him at work, all of us close. If E locks me in the bathroom, I could just yell and you could come get me out, I said to M.

Oh non, the lady from the agency interrupted. You must not yell here. In Switzerland we are quiet. We are always like mouzes in ze houzes. She said the like this, ze, and I really loved it. Like mouzes in ze houzes, I said quietly to myself. All right, I said, no yelling. The lady still looked at me though, cautiously, as if I might do anything, even though I said I wouldn’t yell. In Switzerland we are quiet, she said again. Well.

There was a bedroom for M and me, a small room for the toilet and another for the shower and the washing machine. The kitchen was in a room all by itself with two doors that could be closed and locked, one leading to the living room and the other to the front entryway. There was even a tiny bedroom for E with a bed and a table and a desk. In E’s room everything was touching everything else, the bed was touching the desk, the table was touching the bed. Everything was small and fine, and one day M brought home a quilt stitched all over with trailing crocuses and forget-me-nots and the room came alive around it and was perfect and fit E like a glove.

There was also a room with nothing in it that could be reached through a small door in the living room. It might have been a large closet or a small bedroom. The ceilings felt higher there, well, they were higher. Oh my god! the lady from the agency had said when we saw it. There was a plant in a pot, a succulent with stalks like the arms of an octopus, a small hand sink, and a scorch mark burned into the floor. Oh my god! the lady from the agency said again, and put her hand almost up to her mouth but not quite touching it. Patting my arm, winking at my husband, she said, Somezing for you! A little place! Oh, yes, zis is tiptop!

I had met her once before, the lady from the agency, at her office, by her own request. Zo she could get to know me, she said, talking with M and me on speakerphone. Because we know who it will be picking ze apartment, she said. I could hear the wink in her voice and started to say, No, but M said, Yes! Of course! And so I dug the put-away, then packed-at-the-last-minute, navy blazer I used to wear to meetings out of my bag, brushed my hair, and went alone so she could get a look at me and decide on the kind of places she might offer up.