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sharp blade.
    Her hand was on the key in the ignition. Had she started the car? Was it running? Had she locked the door of the house? Oh, for God’s sake. Did she care about the house and whether it was locked? No. She left. Or she tried to leave, but someone had let the terrier out of the house next door and she almost ran over it. She braked just in time, one of those screeching halts that left tire tracks on the street. The dog ran back over the lawn yapping and yapping. The dog was safe. Her daughter was dead. Oh, how was it possible? She hated the little dog, because it was alive and Lisa was dead.
    Roger was speaking to her. His hand was on her arm; she was clutching it with her other hand. Tears were running down her face and she didn’t try to brush them away. She glanced at him to see whether he knew anything was wrong.No, nothing, except the slickness of sweat on his forehead. They were walking along a street, she thought. Yes, that’s what they were doing. A car went past and a plastic bag lifted up languidly in the heat, ballooned into the air, and sank back down. What was he asking her?
    Those two were close, weren’t they? Damian and Lisa.
    Peas in a pod, she said. Same hair, same smooth skin. God, when I look at Damian, I see her. His eyes aren’t the same colour, but it doesn’t matter. I see her hazel eyes looking into mine. For a while, I could hardly stand it.
    Roger stopped, placing his hands on the low stone wall that ran parallel to the sidewalk. I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.
    He wasn’t looking at her; he was looking off to the side, as if there was someone else he was talking to just beyond her shoulder. She didn’t know what to say. She faced the gorge and then realized she’d started crying again.
    A few more blocks and we’ll be at the Whirlpool Bridge, he said. What would you like to do?
    I don’t know.
    What can you see from here? he asked soothingly, as if she were a child.
    The gorge, you mean?
    Yes.
    On the other side of this wall – just weeds and shrubs. Chicory. Sumac. Something with a leaf shaped like a mitten.
    Sassafras.
    And in the gorge there’s a shelf of stone all along the New York side, with trees at the top and trees down below. You wouldn’t think trees would grow there. The river’s a long way down – it’s dark green, but there’s a tint to the green.
    It’s rock flour in the water. The rock’s been grounddown as fine as flour, and that’s what gives it the green colour. It’s from the shale and sandstone that comes –
    How do you know all this?
    I wanted to know, so I found out. Anyway, I can’t see it. It’s there – it’s only a river – but I can’t see it for shit.
    They walked back a different way. Each time she lifted her foot to step forward, guiding him, she thought they could have been bounding, very slowly, across River Road onto Morrison.
    What’s the hardest thing that’s ever happened to you? she asked.
    Marnie leaving, he said. Finding out that Elvis was not going to be like other kids. And my eyes. But when Marnie left I dropped into a black hole. That was the worst.
    You went a little crazy.
    I don’t remember much. I remember crying. But other than that, it was as if I blacked out for days.
    Marnie, mused Ingrid.
    You never liked her.
    I liked her. There was a lot I liked about her – she was tough as nails. But I thought she was taking you for a ride.
    You visited us when you were big as a house. You must have been about six months pregnant with Damian, and Marnie had just found out she was pregnant.
    We had that argument.
    Yes.
    Ingrid remembered how she’d thrown a white plate with a blue flower on it. The plate had crashed against the refrigerator and broken right across the iris, across its graceful leaves. The plate had belonged to her mother, and she’d regretted it afterward. She regretted calling Marnie a low-life, someone who just wanted to use Roger.
    She hadn’t known then how much he loved Marnie until he