Maybe that was what the larger part of this place was for—natural medicines or teas or something—but that couldn’t be all. I glanced up at the small cabinet of poisons. Those plants couldn’t even be handled with bare hands, much less ingested as medicine, not without fatal consequences. I rubbed my finger over the cut on my thumb.

“Should we check out the rooms upstairs?” Mo asked.

I nodded, grabbed my bag, and closed the heavy door behind us as we went out.

The wall along the stairs that led to the second floor was lined with paintings and photographs of people—families, children, and a trio of women smiling and hugging one another. I paused to take a closer look. They all had the same big brown eyes, and two of them wore glasses. They shared the same toothy smile, the same mass of tight coils crowning their heads in varying lengths, their brown skin beaming in the sun. They looked happy standing arm in arm in front of this very house. They looked like me.

Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “You okay, baby?”

“I’ve gotta be related to them, right?”

“I’d think so,” Mom said, leaning in and studying the photo. “They’re gorgeous. Like you, baby.” She turned back to me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. But everything suddenly felt heavier.

Other photographs and artwork crowded the wall. A large painting of a black dog with yellow eyes hung in a silver frame. In a smaller painting, a man was shown lying under the ground as vines grew out of the soil above him, twisting into a strange-looking tree. Mom nudged me up the last few steps.

On the upper floor we found another smaller living room, and a laundry room with a washer and dryer. Mom almost cried at the sight of it. No more venturing into the stank-ass basement of our building to wash clothes. Finally, there were four huge bedrooms, all furnished with big four-poster beds and matching linens and pillows. Huge dressers and armoires sat against the walls, and each bedroom had its own bathroom. The thought of being able to complete my wash-day routine in peace made me deliriously happy. Back home, Mom always seemed to have a craving for ice cream right in the middle of my twist out, knowing she’s been lactose intolerant her entire life, and knowing we all had to share the single bathroom. Living out in the middle of nowhere might be worth the trouble if I could have my own bathroom.

Mo discovered a claw-foot tub in the bathroom of the largest bedroom, and she and Mom did a whole-ass praise dance to celebrate.

I wandered into the room next to theirs and flipped on the light switch. The bulbs buzzed on in an uneven pattern, slowly illuminating the room. Even when they’d reached peak brightness, it was too dark. I pulled the heavy navy blue curtains away from the windows, which sent a cloud of dust into the air. I took stock of the rest of the room.