I nodded. I heard him on the stairs as I threw the rags and broom out into the hall, rinsed out the coffee can, filled it with clean water, and put it on the gas ring to heat up. The room smelled like a wet dog. My stomach was flipping up and down. I carefully got out the cups, went to the bathroom for the tooth mug, measured out instant coffee. I could hear the long sad chorus of three sets of feet climbing the intricate stairs. I arranged myself on the bed. But then it seemed to me Rennel would probably sit on the bed, and I didn’t want to be lined up with him. And Carlotta should definitely be the one to sit on the chaise. I stood up and waited just outside the range of the door until I heard their feet on my landing. Then I stepped out and saw them.

Carlotta was first. She moved fast. I thought for a second that she was going to hit me, but she grabbed my face in her two hands and looked at me. I tried to put some feeling into my eyes for her. She was pale and thin. Her hair had been cut roughly, ear-length, as though she’d sawed at each braid with a knife. At first I thought her cheeks were painted, but the lines were four thin scabs, two on each side. The cuts started under her eyes and ran down toward her jaws. It gave her a formal, symmetrical look.

Her eyes pored over my face, examining me, anxious. Like she was looking for something in particular. I tried to put warmth into my eyes. I could see Rennel beyond her face, and Sam. His face was hollow, sunken in around his eyes and cheeks.

Carlotta dropped her eyes and hands and turned away. Then Sam came up to me with the same searching look in his dark eyes. I put my arm around his neck and laid my face against his collarbone. The fuzz of his beard surprised me. He pulled away.

“Did you know?”

“Only that it’s dead. Sit down.”

Carlotta’s weight hardly dented the chaise. She lay nearly flat, staring at the ceiling sloping close to her. Sam sat straight in the chair with his hands on his knees, not looking at her. Rennel looked uncomfortable on the bed and I cast about for a place, and ended up crouched against the wall. The water began to boil. I bustled with my back to them. Pulled my sweater sleeves down to act as pot holders, turned off the gas, tilted the can gingerly over the cups, watched the black water rise to the rims.

“So,” I said as I passed out the cups. “What happened?”

Carlotta’s eyes narrowed. Sam blinked and smiled softly.

“It’s been strange.”