“You need something in your stomach so the medication won’t make you nauseous,” I said. “Toast and eggs?”

“Toast and eggs.”

I brought the tray to her bed and then helped her up and held her hand as she made ginger steps down the stairs. She told me she felt stronger, that it was more in her head than anything else.

“I can’t stop thinking about this void inside me. Then again,” she said, smiling weakly, “I’ve lost a ton of weight. Maybe emergency hysterectomies will be the next big diet fad in Belle Meade.”

“There’s my girl.”

We took a turn around the porch and went back up to the bedroom. I called Arch—no answer; I left a message. Vanessa was already asleep. I couldn’t help myself; I went for my sketchbook. It was like we were seventeen again.

After an hour or so, she opened her eyes and saw me there in the corner, drawing her.

“Can I see?” she asked.

I turned the pad.

“You make me look so much better than in real life,” she said.

“I draw what I see.”

I went back to work. I was so intent on making the picture perfect that Vanessa startled me when she spoke.

“I knew I’d pay a price one day,” she said.

I put the pad down in my lap. “Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Oh, yes, it does,” she said. “I should have guessed that this was how God would get back at me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Don’t you believe in karma?”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “Spend a few years watching people who don’t have two pesos to rub together on their knees every day in front of the Blessed Virgin and getting nothing for it but the promise of salvation after death, and you’ll stop believing any of us get what we deserve. And in any case, I never thought it was a mistake.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought you were very afraid,” I said. “And very brave.”

“Your mother was brave,” she said. “I was a coward.”

“My mother’s options were more limited.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know.”

She looked off, out the window.

“I don’t deserve to be a mother,” she said.

“Please don’t say that,” I said.

We left it at that. She was not open to persuasion. I would never convince her of her own innocence.

Arch called a little after noon. I spoke to him for a few minutes and then handed the phone to Vanessa. They stayed on for a very long time. I went outside on the porch to smoke. When she was finished, Vanessa hobbled out to join me. I’d lit another cigarette by then; she reached for it and took a long drag.

“Arch wanted me to take care of you,” I said, “not poison you.”