My silence is deafening, so Janet keeps talking to fill in the void. “Or I can cut up some fruit. Pete got in some ripe avocados at the store. I could make you some avocado toast or guacamole.”

“Honey.” Dennis nods at her. She closes her mouth, and then gives me an embarrassed smile. He turns to me. “Why don’t you go up and see Marian? If you need anything, just let us know. But help yourself to whatever you need. We’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” I finally say while they exchange relieved glances that I can speak.

I take the familiar stairs to Marian’s room slowly. Each step is a painful reminder of why I’m there. Going to Marian’s house and sleeping over is one of my happiest memories from growing up. Is it now going to be tainted like everything in this nightmare?

Marian’s door is open, music playing softly. The second stair to the top squeaks. We’d skip it if we had a late night, but today I put my foot down firmly so she can hear me approaching. As the stair groans, I hear Marian shift.

“Ally?” she calls from her room. Her head pops out, and before I can even register the look on her face, she embraces me. It’s the first welcomed touch I’ve received in hours. I lean into her. “I’m so, so sorry.” She takes me by the hand and closes her bedroom door behind her. My duffel bag is on the floor beside her bed, along with Baxter’s favorite chew toy.

“Where’s Baxter?” I ask. I’m used to him greeting me when I’m home, but I almost had forgotten that he was going to be here.

“Neil and I took him for a long walk, and he’s passed out in the basement. Do you want me to go get him?”

“In a minute,” I reply as I sit next to her on the bed. As much as I want the comfort of my dog, I need a few moments to collect myself. For some reason I don’t want Baxter to see me unraveled. At least one of us should live in ignorant bliss.

“Do you want to talk? Or not talk? Or we can talk about anything else?” she offers. “Two truths and a lie?”

Maybe confiding to Marian will make me feel better. Not like I could ever feel great about this, but it could keep me from drowning.

“I’m angry. I’m scared. My life.”

She waits for me to continue.

I throw my head back. “I’m doing two truths and a lie. The lie, of course, being my entire life.”

She rubs my arm. “That’s not true.”

“How much do you know?” I ask, both embarrassed that this will all be public soon and yet hopeful I don’t have to relive it all again right in this instance.