“I went inside an old house,” Mother announced. “It was filled with all sorts of things. All sorts of treasures.” She looked at my sister, who was giddy with excitement, swinging her feet under the table.

“What’d you find?” Annabelle asked, clutching her fork.

“Well, the kitchen table was set with beautiful china dishes. Everything was perfectly placed.” She moved her hands around the table, indicating where each item lay, before turning to me. “You would have loved it, doll.”

My ears prickled with the mention of her there, thinking of me. That we appreciated the same sorts of things. We were similar, she and I, and that made me exceptional. I thought when she disappeared she forgot all about us.

“It was like the family had been right in the middle of dinner—” She stared down at her untouched plate of food. “Then, poof, they were gone.”

Chapter 18

I had manically cleaned the entire apartment, disinfected every surface, swept and mopped the floors, washed and folded all the laundry, scrubbed the spot behind the toilet that no one ever dared to touch, and polished the few remaining wineglasses that had not yet been broken.

Jack and I went for a run around the lake, and I smiled and nodded toward each person we passed as Jack manoeuvered heavily a few paces behind me. He lost his breath easily, and we stopped multiple times so he could smoke a crumpled joint he pulled from the inside of his left sneaker.

I fed off the sunshine, and Jack fed off of me. I relished my role, smirking at him. “What’s the matter, old man, can’t you keep up?”

I was the gatekeeper of warmth.

When we returned to my apartment, we opened a bottle of wine and sat on the plastic patio furniture in the backyard, basking in the glow of the yellowed sun.

“What’re you painting now?” I asked, topping up his glass.

He lit a cigarette and exhaled a line of smoke with his head tipped back. “I’m working on a piece about class repression.”

“What does it look like?” I wondered how that might be represented in an abstract painting.

“I’m experimenting with darkness and light.” He shifted in his chair, shielding his eyes from the sun. His hand created a shadow that spread across the bridge of his nose. “Shapes that don’t really fit together. Movement that doesn’t go anywhere. Stuff like that.”

“Interesting.” I glanced around the yard. The budding lilac tree filled the air with a heady cocktail. I felt intoxicated by its sweetness. I leaned against the headrest and sipped my wine.

“So, should we call our guy?” Jack asked after a few moments of silence.

I grinned. “Definitely.”

It didn’t take long for the dealer to pull into the driveway. Jack climbed into the passenger seat while I sat in the living room, watching through a slit in the curtains. I always worried something might go wrong.

The car door slammed and I heard the faint call of Jack’s goodbye.