And then suddenly I see you, Thomas! Looking out my window, I see your silhouette hunched against the wind, framed against the milky whiteness of the winter afternoon. And as it always does, my heart leaps in my chest and I feel calmer. Suddenly I no longer feel tired. Suddenly, I want to live, to forge ahead. Because only with you could my life ever be carefree, filled with possibilities and plans, with journeys, sunshine, and laughing children. I can sense that there exists a narrow path to happiness, but I can take it only with you by my side. I don’t know by what magic the pain, the grime, the blackness that I have carried with me since childhood seems to vanish when we’re together. But I know that, without you, I will always be alone.

But the illusion vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, and I realize that you are not coming to see me. I hear your footsteps on the stairs, hear you go into her room. You never come to see me anymore. You come for her. Always for her.

I know Vinca better than you do. I know she has that way about her, that look in her eyes, the way she moves or pushes a lock of hair behind her ear or parts her lips in that smile that is not a smile. And I know that it is not simply toxic—it is lethal. My mother had it too, that sort of maleficent aura that drives men wild. I never told you, but when she walked out on us, my father tried to commit suicide. He impaled himself on a rusty bar. Because of the insurance, we had to pretend it was an accident, but he was trying to kill himself. After everything that my mother had put him through, he thought he couldn’t live without her and was prepared to leave behind three young children.

You’re different, Thomas, but you have to shake off this hold she has on you before it destroys you. Before it makes you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.

*  *  *

You knock on my door and I open it.

“Hey, Thomas,” I say, taking off my glasses.

“Hey, Fanny, I need a hand.”

You explain that Vinca is not feeling well, that she needs someone to talk to, and she needs some paracetamol. You ask me to look in my medicine cabinet and make Vinca some tea. Like an idiot, all I can think to say is I’m on it. And because I don’t have any tea left, I have to fish a teabag out of the trash.