Some days, Claudette, the cleaning lady, comes in. Annie has known her children and babysat them for years, but seeing Claudette in this empyrean space, her gray hair in messy braids, in her oversized T-shirts and leggings, humming some song in her head as she vacuums, leaves a bad taste in Annie’s mouth. She doesn’t like this sacred space, this time with Suzy, to be interrupted by someone from her old life. She knows she should be grateful for Claudette. The woman got her the job, after all. But on the days Claudette cleans, from around eleven to four, Annie takes Suzy out longer. She doesn’t begin cooking until she hears the Acura start its engine and leave the driveway.

Since there aren’t many houses near the Kellers’ and they’d just moved in that spring, there are hardly any other guests or playmates around. Annie knows that Suzy will start at the local preschool in the fall, that for three hours a day she’ll be without her company. But Annie has decided to tackle that in September. She wants to relish these glorious days before Suzy will have a whole other world to step into, maybe even a new little sense of self to explore. All that makes Annie uneasy, so she pushes it to the back of her mind to contemplate at another moment.

9

I shower long and hard, letting the water pound my skin, so hot it’s almost scalding, letting it penetrate my pores. I have music playing, soft French café-style tunes that seep into the bathroom, soaking between my toes along with the sudsy water.

When I leave the shower, turning the knob all the way left so it stops dripping, I slather myself with lotion, blow-dry my bangs, even put perfume behind my ears. I slip on a cotton dress, tying the sash to the side. I want to look pretty. Normal. A young woman having a good time outside of her house. I don’t want anyone to see through me.

I dab on some lip gloss, pull my hair back into a high ponytail, and put on small hoop earrings. I add a little eyebrow tint, a little mascara. I haven’t touched makeup since before the accident, and the products are a little crusty, the tops of tubes dried shut, difficult to twist off. But it does the job.

I try a smile in the mirror, teeth showing. The higher the curve of my lips goes, the more it looks like a sneer. I relax my mouth by putting my tongue on the roof. I am normal. I am good. I am well-rested. At least for tonight.

My buzzer goes off and I press the Enter button for Beth, smoothing out the dress as I do so. I unlock the door before she even knocks.