Now, when she opens her eyes, she turns, finally, and sees Suzy, wet and whimpering, hair clotted with water, Pampers swollen from the rain or from a lack of change. She sees Georgia racing after her, grabbing her and taking her back toward the house. Suzy clings to Georgia, wrapping her arms around her neck, burrowing for warmth. Georgia goes into the house and Annie scrambles up and follows her.

Inside, there is a trail of water leading up to the bathroom, where Georgia is running a bath. Annie gets a towel and sops it up.

13

When I dream of my mother, she is as I remember her, tall and blonde, blurred at the edges because as much as I focus, I can never tell if my memories are of her or a photograph. I know in real life she was short, tiny, but I only knew her as someone I looked up to.

Tonight, she shows up for the first time in years. She is combing my hair, a silky blond mane. But in the dream, I’m an adult, the size I am now, and still, she is tall. It takes her what seems like an eternity to brush out my hair, and when she’s finally gotten through all the tangles, all the knots, I turn around to thank her. But it’s Anneliese instead.

I awaken peacefully and linger in bed, trying to hold in my mind’s eye the hazy remnants of gratitude I’d felt. I’m languid, my muscles loosened from the good night’s sleep. This is the first dream that I’ve recollected since I stopped having my nightmares. I reach for my phone to text Beth, then remember we’re not talking.

The buttery early-morning sunlight makes me want to forgive her, but more than that, I want to paint. I almost tremble with the need, and I can’t help smiling to myself. Maybe I really have cured my depression, my hang-ups, my insomnia. I’ve been waiting to want to paint for the past year.

I get up slowly, easing my naked body out of the bed one leg at a time. I squat down at the cabinet below the sink and rummage behind the cleaning supplies I never use for a small roll of canvas and some paint. I throw on my jeans and one of my dad’s old shirts before texting Gavin to see if I can use the studio.

I don’t expect him to respond. I haven’t seen him for months, and the way we left things never sat right with me. But he texts back within minutes, saying he’ll unlock it for me, that maybe he’ll do some work today, too, since the light is so good.