I pulled my shirt over my head, removed my bra, and examined my torso in the full-length mirror. I still had a flat stomach and a slender waist. I thought about conceiving and bearing a child. Childbirth can alter a woman’s body, sometimes permanently. I sat down on an Indonesian stool and pulled off my socks, my jeans, and my underwear, then stood naked in the lavish bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror, savoring a sense of connection and intimacy with the Straubs. And also the power associated with claiming what I needed.

I considered the logistics of my bath. I ought not to use a towel for my bath, because I might not have time to wash and dry it. They would likely notice a damp towel or a damp tub. Maybe I needed to wait for my next visit and bring my own towel. The thought of postponing the bath brought my spirits down. I spied a damp towel draped over the towel bar and contemplated using that one. I leaned over to smell it and detected Amelia’s musky scent.

Still undecided, I returned to the bedroom to study the Straubs’ bed. A dozen pillows of various sizes and fabrics, and in various shades of blue, covered the upholstered headboard. I wanted to lie naked under their organic cotton sheets. Thoughts of Amelia and Fritz having sex entered my mind. Maybe they’d stopped having sex after all the miscarriages. Maybe it was too traumatic for them now.

Natalie’s face appeared in the doorway. Her body lurched back at the sight of me.

“Hi, Natalie.” I spoke in a calm tone, though a wave of panic ran through me. I spotted a throw draped over a nearby chair. “The craziest thing…” I wrapped the blanket tightly around my body. “Just a few minutes ago … Itzhak vomited. I was downstairs and lifting him off the porch. Awful for him. Really.” I avoided her eye contact. “So all my clothes … I had to clean everything. It was quite a mess, and I’m … I’m going to wash my clothes in the machine. I’ll just find a towel until they’re dry.”

“Poor Itzhak.” Natalie crossed toward me in the direction of the bathroom. I feared she was going to examine my clothing to see if I was telling the truth about the vomit. But she stopped in front of one of her parents’ nightstands to check the time. She turned around and walked back toward the bedroom door.

Fortunately, Natalie returned to bed rather quickly after a glass of milk. I was mildly concerned about how she would relate what she saw. She appeared to believe me when I explained about Itzhak. But I couldn’t be certain.