Thousands of phone calls, almost all long distance; conversations with Marion are the beads woven through the events of Rose’s life. Schools, jobs, men, mistakes, mundane days and glorious nights: With Marion all the memories are there in grand disorder.

Never has there been a world where Rose was and Marion wasn’t. How could Rose have forgotten Marion, her older sister and oldest friend? Even without Harley and cats, she is not alone. She has family. Rose can almost feel her blood getting thicker than water.

She laughs and yells, “Marion!”

None of the personal emails is more recent than six weeks. That must be about the time Rose was incarcerated. No wonder there are so few. Marion would have informed Rose’s close friends that she was non compos mentis.

Rose has to hold her right wrist with her left hand to steady her hand enough to open the most recent of the old emails from Marion.

“You’re not answering your phone or email. I’m calling whatsisname.”

Flynn, Rose guesses. Marion called Flynn because Rose stopped communicating.

Scrolling down, she opens another from three weeks prior.

“You were weird on the phone last night. Are you seeing anybody? I know shrinks aren’t the be-all and end-all, but I think you should find one. Sooner rather than later.”

A week after that: “Call me. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

The next one, flagged, is from Nancy, Harley’s ex.

“Stella and Daniel have issues they need to work on. Your so-called grief is bad for them at this time. Flynn’s gone and you are leaning so hard on Melanie they are all coming to hate you. I don’t like to be the one to have to tell you this but the entire family is absolutely vilifying you. I’m telling you this for your own good. You should stay away for MANY MONTHS.”

“Holy smoke,” Rose breathes. Nancy and Stella had email wars for a few years. Though Rose was not the Other Woman—or even the next woman—early in her and Harley’s marriage, Nancy did send a few email bombs, but nothing like this. The vitriol boiling behind the words would scarify the insides of anyone holding on to it. Or char the skin off anyone who tried to grab it. It speaks of suffering so deep as to be a pathology. Rose hits DELETE.

She opens the SENT folder. Over a three-week period she sent Marion eleven emails. Rose opens them in order. They start with “I cannot get my mind around the fact that Harley is gone.” And end with “I cants seem to kep it tgether/” Taken as a whole, they and Marion’s replies create a picture of the decline and fall of Rose Dennis’s sanity.

Rose pulls the charger cord from the iPad and plugs it into the phone.

CHAPTER 9