Josie shook her head. There was a long silence. Josie tried to make out Tyler’s voice or even the banging of toys, but the house seemed completely still, and Josie wondered if Mary had somehow sensed she was coming and taken the kids over to the neighbor’s.

“You okay?” Mary asked.

Josie was confused, and for a moment she thought Mary was asking if she was all right here, in the house.

“Oh … yeah,” Josie said.

There was another long silence, and Josie was sure that, now that the formalities were out of the way, Mary would begin, but instead she stared at the ground. “You can … you can stay here awhile if you need to,” Mary said.

“No.” It came out of Josie’s mouth so quickly, she didn’t realize she had spoken, and spoken with such disgust, until Mary looked up at her and said, “Jesus Christ, Josie, I’m just trying to be considerate.”

And then it was clear that Tyler had made what happened a secret, probably pushed the brush far under the bed among the dust balls and lost metal cars, and Josie realized that there were only two reasons he would have done this—to protect her or to protect himself—and either of the two options made her throat tighten and her legs grow weak.

“Is Tyler here?” Josie blurted.

Mary looked at her oddly. “No, he’s playing next door.”

“Oh,” she said. Perhaps it was better this way. She would leave the giraffe on his pillow and hope he could at least sense her apology. She nodded her head and started to the bedroom, but stopped.

The first night Josie had slept at the house, one corner of her bedroom had been stuffed with cardboard boxes, and after everyone went to sleep, she had crawled out of bed and quietly peeked through each box. One was marked TYLER’S CLOTHES, but when she opened it, she found Mary’s things—a few blouses, some maternity dresses, and a stack of sweaters. On top was a baby blue pullover, and Josie pulled it out, held it up to her chest, and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and faint perfume. Her reaction was immediate and visceral. It was not her mother’s perfume, but the sweet musky scent partnered with the smoky headiness made her heart swell, and she needed to press her palm firmly against her chest to force it back to normal. She shoved the sweater back into the box and pushed it all under the bed, but later that night, when she woke up needing to use the bathroom, she dug it back out again and held it to her mouth and nose, unsure who she was aching for.