I found my assigned shack, worked the key. A bed with a broken spring, a stained chair, the smell of sweat and cigarettes, a swipe of grime across the window, sticky sink, a hole in the wall the precise size of a fist. But unlike home, the place had plenty of electricity and hot running water. I took a shower forever. I let the water scald me and I thought of Lily. I thought of Helen and Rudy. But of course mostly I thought of Perley.

He must have been four or five, one of those endless afternoons we were together while Lily was at work, endless until they ended. We’d been digging drainage, and he was lobbying for macaroni and cheese for lunch. How do you even know about macaroni and cheese? I asked, putting a hard-boiled duck egg in his hand, pulling his muddy boots off, sitting him down on the sofa. Macaroni and cheese is like magic, I said. You’re not going to grow up to be some kid who thinks the food comes out of the box, magic, the water out of the tap, magic, the house you live in. Remember, if you’re not the one who did the hard work, someone else did. Never take that for granted. Magic? asked Perley. Like the elves? Like Redlance shaping trees? Like you do? Or like Leetah healing people? Like how you used to be a doctor? A nurse, I said. You’re missing the point of those comics, Perley. The elves don’t rely on anyone or anything else except each other. They’re ready for whatever comes up, I said. He knocked his egg against his head, pulled a face. Magic, he said. Did you hear me? I said. Okay, he said. I heard you.

Just don’t take anything for granted, I said. Except me.

And look at us now.