“Well, that’s the other thing,” Cali says. “You didn’t really stick around for the whole story.”

Cali fills me in. I’d known about Gemma’s psychotic break, but what she’d been too ashamed to share was that, in a moment of the excruciating paranoia that had characterized her episodes, she’d packed her girls into the car and ended up nearly driving over a cliff with them. She’d come to with her children screaming from the backseat and the car teetering on the precipice of oblivion. Leaving London hadn’t been self-indulgence; she’d been protecting them.

“And no one knew this?” I ask, feeling a pang of guilt. I’d conflated Gemma with my sister, but she was nothing like her. If only my sister had removed herself from her child.

“Edward knew most of it.”

“Well, I feel like an asshole now.”

“Nah. None of us had the full story. She’ll understand.”

We’re quiet for a moment as we stroll among the crypts. The Recoleta Cemetery is eerie but peaceful too.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You and Edward?”

“Eh.” Cali smiles. “We made out a couple of times. Nothing major. I find him kind of sexy, to be honest, even though he’d make a terrible boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I suppose he would.”

“Better as a friend. And actually, speaking of Edward, I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’m leaving Buenos Aires.”

My heart drops through my stomach. The idea of being here without Cali is unfathomable, especially if I decide to stay.

“Are you going home?”

“Actually, I’m moving to Paris.”

“Paris! Wow. Okay. Wait, what does Edward have to do with this? You said ‘speaking of Edward.’ ”

“Oh, well, Edward knows one of the major donors to the Philharmonie de Paris. I know, la-di-da.”

“Of course he does.”

“Right? But, he said he can get me an audition, and I might as well take him up on it. I miss the cello too much, and I really can’t go back to New York. Maybe someday. But I’ve loved living abroad, I’m not ready to be done with the adventure. It’s been the silver lining of this whole thing. I probably never would have done it otherwise.”

“Do you speak any French?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ll learn. I’m good with languages.”

“You are. When do you leave?”

“Friday.”

“Wow, Jesus that’s fast. That’s great, Cali. I mean it sucks, I’ll miss you. But I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, babe.”

We stroll along one of the corridors of the cemetery. The skies are clouding a bit above us, and the shadows give even the most sparkling white tombs a sinister feel.