“She makes me feel terrible about everything I’ve accomplished. She did it when she was young, too.”

“Mom,” said Stella. “Jesus.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “She’s probably right.”

The Chinese girl came back and poured tea that smelled like moss. In my mind, even, I shouldn’t have been thinking: girl. Dora was very careful about calling them women.

“One of these women,” she said. “You won’t believe what happened to her today.”

“What’s that?” I asked. I wanted to show Stella, wanted to show both of them, that I could do this. I could be fair. I could try.

“She was supposed to pick up some chickens from the butcher,” Dora said. “A couple extras for the lunch rush. She got them live in wooden crates, but when she hopped a bus, the driver said live animals weren’t allowed, so she snapped their heads—right there.”

“I thought you said the girls weren’t working for the restaurant,” Stella said. “The women, I mean. I thought you said they were just staying here?”

“She was doing them a favor, that’s all. You need to understand what they’re running away from. It’s complicated.”

“It sounds terrible.” I said.

“I mean, they had everything, absolutely everything taken.”

“They’re still here, aren’t they?” I asked.

“You wouldn’t—” Dora paused. “I think it’s hard for any of us to imagine what it would be like to get sold.”

We sat quietly, pouring tiny cups of tea, until the girl brought the dumplings. Dora ate one whole, popped it right in her mouth. I bit one in half and a brown soup spilled all over my chin. Dora handed me a pack of tissues from her purse.

I said: “I can imagine.”

“How do you mean?” Dora asked.

“I was a prostitute,” I said. “For twenty years I was. I know it’s different, I mean, it’s so absolutely…But I just mean, it’s not the end of—”

“I didn’t know,” said Dora.

“You’re not surprised.”

“Oh, Tilly,” she said. “I am.”

I could see the shame in her eyes, just a blink. Even if I never saw it again, I would know the shame was there, like maggots under her skin. It would keep her asking: How? When? Why?, her wondering like worms growing into the old wound.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “So terribly sorry to hear that.”

“Well, that’s that,” I said. “Now you know.” I picked my purse up off the floor and pushed back my chair. It scraped awkwardly and almost tipped, like it does when I’m drunk, but I wasn’t drunk. I wanted that to count for more.

“Don’t go,” said Dora. “Not again.”

“She’s right,” Stella said. “You should stay.”

I sat down. I kept my purse in my lap. I looked Dora straight in the eyes. “Did you think about me, even?”

She looked surprised. “When?”

“After I got kicked out, for starters, and all the years after.”

“Did I think about you? Of course I did.”