I cling. Maman doesn’t. That’s what Father used to tell her, “pretty, but cold.”

Maman never got attached to anything. Not to Father, not to the house, not to her children. When we sat next to her, she became restless. “Don’t lean on me. Get away.”

She liked to walk in the streets by herself. In the public bathhouse, she sat us on the bench and told the attendant to watch out for us. She would go in and then called us in one by one. When Father wasn’t home, she made her bed some distance from us, and when he was there, she made her bed away from Father’s. In the bus, she didn’t like her body rubbing against other women’s bodies.

Now I am in the market. It’s not as busy as usual. A few women with lots of makeup are standing in front of a store window. Talking and laughing. It’s warm in the market and the stores are brightly lit. I use the escalator going up and come down using the back steps. I walk with the crowd, and I am forced to move slowly. All my fears are left outside the market.

Everybody is alive. They walk, talk, and laugh. Nobody pays any attention to me. I enter a store and ask the price of a yellow hat for a child. My face feels warm. Everybody is alive. Only I have died because I have no place to go. I have to stay in that house all alone with children who know nothing. They just want milk and food. They want clean clothes and toys.

In my mind I send Amir away from the house. He has to leave for the sake of the future. I put myself in the center of the house. But I must stay. I can’t go with two little kids to a foreign place and wander around. So we must stay put.

But nights arrive late and the days know no rules or laws for ending. Amir is chasing the future. There are no guarantees. He may bring the future with him, or he may not. The past is a wreck and that doesn’t help. The house is poor and smells like medicine and baby milk. The carpet is covered with toys. I have to separate the small ones. Shadi may put them in her mouth.