Constance glared at him. “I do not need anything from you,” she said. “And neither does Ruby.” Her eyes drooped and closed; her hand went to her head.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, taking Constance’s hand.

She yanked it away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Gregor held his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. But I’m right here, if you change your mind.” His voice had a tremor; he was upset, trying not to let it show.

Constance struggled to her feet, pushing herself up with effort. Whatever she’d taken was affecting her balance. “Remember,” she said to Ruby, “everything he says to you is a lie. I tell the truth. I tell …” She trailed off, her eyes drifting almost closed. With the gait of a person fifty years older, the dark-haired woman walked slowly across to her room and went in, shutting the door behind her.

The room was mostly in darkness, lit only by the table lamp, the pool of light not quite reaching the walls. Gregor handed Ruby her tea, then sat where Constance had been on the other couch. In the dimness, she couldn’t see his eyes, but as he turned his head, there was a glint where tears were gathering.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said.

Ruby wasn’t sure how to respond. She said, “It’s not your fault. She seems so …”

“Paranoid?”

“I was going to say different, from last week.”

Gregor nodded slowly. “When it’s good, I think it will be good forever, that she’s better. That maybe she’ll be able to live independently. But then, out of the blue, she’ll wake up in the morning, and there will be a look in her eye. And I’ll know.”

“Know what?”

Gregor seemed to struggle with what he was about to say. He winced, as if in pain. “I think of it like a demon now. When it’s bad, it’s like there’s a demon inside her, controlling her. Not letting the real Constance speak.”

“Sounds like it’s really hard for you.”

“Yes. For both of us. Though when she’s better, she often forgets what she’s said.”

Ruby thought of Marianne then, and how it was hard to understand how very different she was when she was bad, how far from her sober self. She had blackouts too, though Ruby wasn’t sure whether Marianne really forgot what had happened or blocked it out deliberately because of the shame. That wasn’t the same, though. To an extent, Marianne could have helped herself. Constance couldn’t do that.

“You’re so good to take this on, Gregor.”