I eased out of the car and lifted the bag of food. It was damp and smelly in my hands. Angelina wrenched out of Carlotta’s arms and leapt at the liver. Her ragged claws caught in my thighs. I glimpsed down her long throat as her jaws closed on the wet bag. Carlotta reached for the dog’s throat. Her long hands sank in the short fur. She lifted Angelina, legs flying, tail beating against her. The liver fell from the shredded paper. The dust darkened with thin blood. I dove for it. Snatched up the pieces and the split grapes and the spinach. I ran inside the house, clutching the stuff to my chest, and heaved it into the dishes in the sink. I splashed cold water over the dark meat. The dust ran off. The blood thinned and slipped down the drain.

I heard Rennel’s voice asking for Sam. Angelina’s idiotic yap. Carlotta entered with the pan. She stood beside me at the sink, shoved it under the cold water. I could smell her sweat as the pan filled. I slid the meat onto a used plate. Opened the groaning refrigerator. The light was out, but it was cold, and inside were two shriveled oranges and a bottle of ketchup.

“I’m watering the plants.”

I followed her outside. She went to the tomato patch and poured out the water from the pan. There were some green sprouts sticking up.

“Are those tomatoes?”

“They’re all alike, so I think so. When a different kind comes up, I take it out.”

She sat down on the grass, leaned back on her elbows, and looked at the bulge in her dress.

“Aram told me that was a joke about your blighting things.”

I sat down a short distance away and put a blade of grass between my teeth.

She frowned at her body. “But it wasn’t a joke. It was a lie. So you wouldn’t have to help plant. You could have just said you didn’t feel like it. Aram does that all the time. Only he performs his lies instead of telling them. He’ll get out of bed in the morning to make tea. I wake up an hour later with the pot burning on the stove and him listening to records and reading, not paying attention. I always end up getting the tea myself.”

She lurched upright, stood, and grabbed the pan. “I don’t mind making tea. I just mind him lying like that.”

I got up, too.