I drew the straightest line I could, and then another. I drew a series of parallel lines to mark the stairs and made a big X in the square representing my parents’ bedroom. I slid the pad across the table.

“This is good,” Antonia said, studying the page. She folded the paper and tucked it between the pages of her notebook.

“Mother, I need to talk to you about the night of the performance,” she said.

“What is it now?” Tilly asked.

“We can’t leave her alone here, and I need to be at the show. I’m going to have someone else play your part. I need you to be with Star that night.”

“Why wouldn’t we bring her to the show?” Tilly asked, flummoxed. “Surely you’ve heard of the brilliance of hiding in plain sight.”

“Mother, please,” Antonia said.

“I can have someone I know come and stay here with her,” Tilly suggested, but Antonia refused.

“I will not trust her to anyone else.”

“You’re right,” Tilly said brightly. “Just tell my castmates that I’m terribly sorry to have let them down. And tell the ambassador too. He’s been telling folks that the show will have an actual star onstage. Did you know the Chinese ambassador is coming to see me specifically?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be this way,” Nia said. “Nothing’s changed.”

Tilly inhaled sharply.

“I can stay alone,” I said. “You say this is two and half hour. It is not too long. I stay here and sleep.”

I’d been alone in the apartment for brief periods, when Antonia was at work and Tilly stepped out to pick up groceries or replenish her supply of cigarettes. The apartment had become a safe house for me.

Antonia tapped the eraser end of a pencil against the tabletop in a precise rhythm, three quick taps and two slow taps, a debate in beats. Tilly had rested her case and didn’t feel the need to say another word. They bickered so much that they could do it in silence now. An hour later, Nia offered a plan. Tilly would participate in her small role, then excuse herself early and return to the apartment.

Antonia was gone the next two nights for dress rehearsals. Tilly stayed with me, flipping through the script and complaining about the instant coffee Antonia had brought home. She filled the long days telling me stories she likely wouldn’t have told in her daughter’s presence. She told me about the time Antonia had trapped a squirrel in a shoebox, and how she’d once kicked a fourth-grade classmate between the legs for trying to kiss her.