Molly bounced into the kitchen, grabbed a biscuit and kissed her on the head. “Bye, Mom. I’m going home with Cindy after school, spending the night. I’ll call from her house. Love ya.”

Amy smiled, nodded—nothing left to say. She pushed an omelet around the plate with her fork.

Phil shuffled into the kitchen and looked around, never at his wife. “Oh, Amy.”

“Go on. I know you’re late.”

She didn’t look up—her humiliation greater now than her need to see his face as he left the house. The door clicked shut and she stared out the kitchen window and noticed, again, the empty bird feeder. She rose from the chair, opened the storage closet, then yanked out a bag of bird seed, walked into the backyard, her heels spiking into the ground. She pulled down the bird feeder and filled it to the top, not caring about her suede pumps now coated with soil.

A cardinal perched on the top branch of the birch tree above looked down at her.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But here you go. I’m here now. I won’t forget again.”

She walked back into the kitchen, dumped the entire breakfast in the garbage disposal and cleaned the remnants of the uneaten feast. She stood back, surveyed her clean kitchen. “Okay,” she said out loud. “We’ll start with the linen closet.”

Although she kept the house in almost pristine condition, she loved artifacts and mementos, so her closets and drawers overflowed with paraphernalia she thought she just might need one day, things she couldn’t bear to throw away: old clothes, antique linens, papers, knickknacks and crafts.

The clothes and towels, the closet essentials of their lives, poured out from the hidden places and landed on the floor and on tables; she sorted them as if their family’s collective life depended on how she organized them. If she was so messed up—surely she could fix this—at least this.

She was so intent on her work that the OWP group told her they rang the bell four times before she entered the foyer. She smiled at them when she opened the front door—poised and ready with the self she woke up with, the new self who would force redemption.

Norah, Revvy and Reese stared at her. They all opened their mouths as if to speak, but only stared.

“What?” She looked at them, tilted her head.

“Your clothes,” Norah said and laughed.

She looked down; she was covered with dust, streaks of dirt smeared across her black sweater, and she had on only one shoe. “Oh, I’ve been cleaning out closets.” She laughed, a coarse sound. “Come in, come in. What are y’all doing here?”

Norah held up a box. “We brought you dinner. We thought you were still—you know—confined to bed.”

“You cooked me dinner?” Guilt rose.