Perley attempted to examine his wound by straining his eyeball down toward it. This added to his new grotesqueness, eyelids half closed, eyes crossed, mouth drawn down as he tried to look at his own cheek. I brought him the shard of mirror from above the sink.

“Toxically gross,” Perley said, faint but happy. “What about school?”

“You’re not going to school,” Karen said. “You’ll stay home and rest. We need to watch and make sure this thing heals up right. We need to make sure you don’t get a fever. So just settle in.”

“Settle in where?” asked Lily. “I won’t have him stay one more night in this house until the snakes are gone.”

“Where else can he stay?” asked Karen.

“Stop crying, Mama L, I’ll camp on the pipeline with Rudy,” Perley said.

“I won’t have it,” Karen said.

“He can stay in my old camper,” I said. I waited to be rebuffed. Instead, Karen said, “There’s an idea. But it needs a little bit of work.”

“I’ll clear it out,” I surged. “I’ll do it right after breakfast.” The day was a warm wave, raising me up and tossing me toward the human family. They needed me. We were invincible. We had purpose. As comrades, we could solve any problem.

“Stay there by himself?” asked Lily.

“You can move up there with him, Lily,” Karen said. “Helen and I will stay in here and get rid of the snakes once and for all.” And what could be further proof of our bond but that Lily and I received this and didn’t gloat? We didn’t even look at each other. I pressed the coffee. Lily found a place for her head on Karen’s shoulder, puzzle piece to puzzle. Karen put her arm around Lily and pulled her in close.

These days, Karen was the only one who went into the camper with any frequency. It was where she kept her tools. I opened the door, but could hardly stand up inside, could hardly move, the ceiling was so low, the walls so close. I could hardly believe I had lived here with my boyfriend, or that I’d spent a winter in it alone.