“Dad,” Natalie said. “Mom needs to get a grip.”

“I know.” He studied his bottle of beer, as if deciding how to open it.

“Maybe she needs to talk to our rabbi,” Natalie said.

Fritz reached into a drawer and pulled out a ninety-nine-cent bottle opener, one of the only mundane items I’d noticed in the Straub household, not in the same league as my brass-and-marble bottle opener. The bottle cap fell to the floor. He left it there.

“Piper says Mom needs spiritual guidance.”

“Your mom doesn’t want spiritual guidance.” Fritz looked out toward the backyard. His attention seemed to be caught by something he heard. I observed his rounded shoulders. The endless exchanges with Amelia had taken a toll on his body. Though an exceedingly attractive man, his hair was thinning, his hairline receding.

“She doesn’t know what she wants.” Natalie seemed irritated at her father’s distraction.

Fritz continued to gaze absentmindedly at the cherry tree, the dead brown grass, the lavender sky.

“Mom’s damaged,” Natalie said, raising her voice to get his attention. She sounded strident.

He pressed his eyes closed tightly.

“Spiritual guidance could be helpful,” I said. Still seated at the kitchen island, with Natalie next to me, I gently placed my hand on hers, and, as I did, I noticed that it was almost as large as mine. The skin on her knuckles felt rough from the harsh winter air. “Amelia’s experienced a loss because she was counting on Lucia’s baby. There are people who can help her with that.”

Fritz laughed thinly. He cast his eyes in my direction.

“I grew up Catholic,” I said. “I used to talk to the priest at our church when I was having difficulty.” I’d barely known the priest, and only spoken to him once, when he took me aside to ask me about my parents’ divorce. I was wearing a white blouse with bell sleeves that day. I remember wishing for a pair of scissors so that I could cut off my sleeves and cover his mouth with them, to mask the nauseating smell of his breath. “In fact, even recently, I called the priest from my church for counsel on my custody situation.”

Fritz cleared his throat, as if he expected me to say more, but I didn’t.

It wasn’t in my best interest to be spiritual. Maybe one day, when I had what Amelia already had—money, family, love, success—on that day, I could afford to look for God. But right now it wasn’t the best use of my time.

Amelia, however, was a different story. Natalie was right that she needed guidance of some kind. Opening her heart up to God, her pain might disappear entirely. It worked for some people. She might look around and say, Wow. I’m fortunate. Thank you, God.