“We want to be as honest with her as possible,” Mrs. Keller says. “As you know, we’ve both been as candid as we can throughout this process, and neither of us thinks that should end now. She’ll notice things. Mommy moving into a different room. The nurses coming in and out. We need you here to answer those questions appropriately when one of us is busy.” Annie remains standing by the door. She has made no move forward.

“And I want her with me as much as possible. It’s not fair that this is happening to her, that she’s losing me so young. So I want her memories of me to be fun ones, if not lively.” She cracks a smile at her own joke, and Mr. Keller chokes back another cry, and Annie just stands there nodding.

“I can arrange that.” And then Mr. Keller reaches out his arms and brings Annie to his chest, circling his wiry arms around her.

“Thank you. Thank you for being so good to Suzy. And thank you in advance for all the help in the coming weeks.” She feels his snot in her hair, the quaking shoulders of a man she’d barely imagined could cry before the diagnosis.

Mrs. Keller, in contrast, continues to sit in her chair, face nearly void of emotion, except for a small smirk on her lips, as if she were suppressing a giggle at her husband’s show of emotion. And it dawns on Annie that perhaps she’s reveling in this turn of events, that by dying she’ll finally get all the attention she constantly craves.

And for once, for one fleeting second, Annie agrees with her, is happy for her, feels grateful for Mrs. Keller’s existence. Because if she’s set on dying, then who will Suzy turn to? Who will Suzy come running to when finally Mrs. Keller doesn’t have a voice, is on her last breath? When Mrs. Keller is rotting underground, hair matted with maggots, eye sockets vacant, who will be there for Suzy? Not Mr. Keller. He has books to write, work to complete. Why, he hired a nanny when he was going to be home all day. He has no spine anyway. He’ll probably disintegrate, turn into a shadow, without Mrs. Keller ordering him around.

No, he’ll always need the help, after she’s gone more than ever. Things are turning out quite well around here, Annie muses, as she steps back, out of Mr. Keller’s embrace. She lets a little smile dance on her lips. And without thinking, she goes to hug Mrs. Keller, feels her fragile, dusty bones underneath her loose blouse.

Startled, Mrs. Keller hugs her back. And then lets go, steadying her hands on Annie’s shoulders, and studies her. Annie looks away, looks out the window at the lake, so calm in the winter sunlight.