I had a childish impulse to slam the door in her face. For years, I’d dealt with teachers and social workers and counselors who thought that they could divine my future from the facts of my past. I knew nothing about their personal lives, an imbalance that made me feel both vulnerable and angry. Now, I cut Sarah off before she could get into the gory details. “You live down the hall? In which apartment?”

“I live in C.”

“Are you a relative of Mrs. Felesky’s?”

“Who?” Sarah’s eyes widened slightly.

“Mrs. Felesky lived in 5C. This used to be my apartment,” I explained, thinking of the petite powerhouse who slipped whiskey into her tea and told ribald stories from the days she’d been a showgirl. “Mrs. Felesky was in this building for thirty years at least. She’s a wonderful lady. I guess she’s about ninety now, but she was always so independent. Do you know where she went?”

“I have no idea. I just moved in a few weeks ago. Why would you think I was her relative?” Her imperious tone suggested she found the question offensive.

“Rent control.” Sarah looked blank. “The people who’ve been here for decades pay next to nothing in rent,” I explained. “When they leave, sometimes a relative moves in, without mentioning it to the landlord.” It was pretty much what I’d done with Claudia, only I’d made the mistake of inviting her to live with me first. That hadn’t worked out very well.

“Oh, I see.” Sarah paused, then tugged the thread of conversation back to the morbid. “I saw Claudia on New Year’s Eve, just before I went out. She wasn’t in very good spirits. She just seemed so… sad.”

I wasn’t ready to hear anything else she had to say about my sister. “Thanks for coming by.”

“I’m glad I got to meet you,” said Sarah. “I often wondered what you were like.”

I closed the door quickly, spinning the locks. Suddenly I was drained and empty, and I rested my forehead against the door. I knew from experience that people were awkward when dealing with death. After my father died, kids at my junior high would whisper about me in the hallway. That’s the girl! Her father died on Christmas Eve. It’s really sad. My mother said… They weren’t being cruel, they were just getting a charge from their proximity to death, which was close enough to chill but not to harm. It was worse when I was in college and my mother died over the winter holiday break. It was midway through freshman year, and I found that I was suddenly shunned by people who’d invited me to parties only weeks before. One girl pushed a big, flowery card under the door of my dorm room, but she avoided actually talking to me.