Aunt Irma too was easily moved to tears. She liked to speak of the many times she’d spent with me when I’d been a little, little girl helping my mother with child care, staying overnight in the bustling house on Black Rock Street. Many times she’d bathed me, sprinkled my tender little bottom with talcum powder and given me a fresh new diaper. Pushed me in a stroller along the sidewalk where there were cracks so the ride wasn’t so smooth but bump bump bump that made me giggle. Did I remember?—Irma asked hopefully.

Vaguely I would nod, smile. As a doll might nod, smile. Though I did not remember I would not want my aunt to know how little she mattered in my life then or now.

My uncle Oscar was not so sentimental. He’d given in to his wife’s pleas that they take her sister’s daughter into their household but often his eyes wandered over me baffled—who the hell was this awkward girl, this stranger at mealtimes eating his food, limping up the stairs, shrinking from him in the hallway and in the vicinity of the (single, second-floor) bathroom, avoiding his eyes. There was no question of Oscar Allyn hugging me to comfort me when I burst into tears. In Oscar’s presence I was not inclined to burst into tears. At an accidental touch both of us would have leapt away, affrighted.

You are not my father. Go away!

Between us there was established a kind of understanding. A little distance. But between the woman and me, not sufficient distance.

You are not my mother. Go away!

I could not bear to see myself in the mirror. Learned to observe myself sidelong. And then with half-shut eyes. Where the scab at my hairline had fallen away there was a soft, creepy, lurid scar of which I was ashamed and which I tried to hide beneath wispy bangs.

The injured knee was not so swollen now. My aunt took me to a clinic where someone alleged to be a doctor examined it briefly and said it would “heal” if I did not run or strain it.

Yet, I had to run. The yearning to run was very powerful. Sometimes when I was outside and alone a sudden need came to me, like a sudden thirst, that I might run, and run; a fierce joy overtook me, like flames; I ran until my heart thudded in my chest and my knee did begin to ache, my legs grew weak.

Rat, run! Wait till we catch you.