“. . . Oh says you. And then you got to high school and like some flip just got switched! It just got switched. And everyone could see it. Your father was always saying, you know—‘Where’d my little girl go? Where’d my little girl go?’ Just like that. Not that he was angry or sad. Just bewildered. We never thought you’d be a scientist. And I’m not trying to be, well, you know, but you were so beautiful. You are so beautiful now. But growing up you were like an angel. Just like an angel. People would always tell me, you know, people would always say—‘She’s gonna be an actress. She’s gonna be in movies.’ People would really say that! Strangers would come up and say that! So, of course that’s what I thought. That’s what everyone thought! Oh honey, I only wanted what was going to be the easiest thing for you. That’s why I took you to all those, those damn hotels. So that you could have opportunities and a career of your own. But you, well, you’re stubborn! Like your grandmother! You had to take the harder path. But you did it. I mean you really did it. And now, I tell everyone that you’re a scientist now. That you grew up to be a scientist, when they knew you as a little girl. And they say—‘Imagine that.’ That’s what they say. Imagine that. That’s exactly what they say. You flummoxed them all, sweetheart. You flummoxed them all. And me too! And you know I’m so proud of you. I’m so immensely proud of you my heart just breaks with it. But I’m never going to understand what you do. But I know now it’s important.” Her laugh is tinny and faraway over the phone. “At least I know it’s important.”

Carmen finds herself crying. She wipes at her eyes, surprised at this reminder of the tender-raw narrative of her life, the origins of it all. How different it had been then, how far she has come, how real her life was outside of the recent events. Not that it had been so much harder and the choices so much more devastating than any other life, but rather it had been full of hardship and choices in the way that all lives, all lives all over are, and because like every personal past of someone who has moved away and become a different person it had condensed into an almost solid structure from time passing, a beautiful but heartbreaking piece of art she sometimes forgets she possesses, a Rembrandt in the basement.