My plan starts after supper. I wash the dishes and wipe the counters and sweep the floor until the kitchen has never been so immaculate. After that I go upstairs and read for a while, from Mlle. O’Shea’s anthology. I love Baudelaire, but now I’m getting into the twentieth century. My new favorite is by Jacques Prévert, called “Barbara.”

Rappelle-toi Barbara

Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là.

It’s about a woman he sees crossing the street in the rain. He hears her lover call her name, a man who has taken shelter under a porch, and Barbara runs into his arms. She’s beautiful and happy with the rain on her face, but in between when that happens and when he remembers it in the poem, the war comes and takes everything away and changes what everything means, even rain. It really gets to me.

Eventually, I can hear my family assemble downstairs in the family room, and they’ve started a game of Uno. Usually at this juncture, I would lock myself in and read for the rest of the night, but step two of my plan is to take a deep breath, go downstairs, and watch them play cards. So that’s what I do. They ignore me.

“Any objections if I sleep outside tonight?” I ask, casually, after a while. “Aaron said I could use his old sleeping bag.”

My mother looks guarded. “Outside … where?”

“On the front lawn. You know how my bedroom heats up on these hot nights.”

Mom looks at Scot, but Scot’s face is a black hole. She looks at her watch. “It’s kind of early for bed, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Mom.” Nora yanks on her sleeve. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to bed now,” I explain in a reasonable, even, and unexcited tone of voice. “I just mean for when I do go to bed.” Scot doesn’t say a word. He looks like he’s going to have a problem no matter what happens.

“Well.” My mother uses her Christian, sweet-but-firm voice. “In that case, why don’t you sit down and join us?” I don’t want to be here. Nobody else wants me here. But without commands coming down from the general, a mere lieutenant needs to cover her ass. Just because I failed Western Civ doesn’t mean I didn’t learn anything about history. As long as she’s making me unhappy, she must be doing something right. So I sit down and join them. Scot deals. We look at our cards. Nobody talks. We play through a hand. I put down my first wild card, call it green, and then watch Scot have to pick up about twenty cards, getting angrier with each one. Three more cards, and I win the hand.

“Daddy,” Nora says, “Serena made us a swimming pool today. I thought we were going to have a swimming pool at our house. When are you going to make us a swimming pool?”