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evicted from her fifth-floor East Village walk-up she’d begged Rune to take her and her daughter in. Claire had said, “Come on. Just a day or two. It’ll be fun. Like a pajama party.”
    That had been six weeks ago—and what had followed had been like no pajama party Rune had ever been to.
    That morning, before Rune went to work, Claire had told her that she’d gotten a new job and promised that she and Courtney would be gone by dinnertime.
    Now, Claire stood up and shook her head in disgust. “What it is, that guy, he backed out. Some effing people!”
    Rune didn’t exactly remember who “that guy” was or what he was backing out of. But Rune was now even madder at him than Claire was. She’s gotta go…. Talk now or later? Now, she decided. But her courage broke. Shit. She dropped her leopard-skin bag on the purple shag kidney-shaped scrap of carpet that she’d found on the street then bent down and kissed the three-year-old’s forehead.
    Courtney stopped crying. “Rune,” she said. “Story. Read me a story?” She was dressed in blue jeans and a dirty yellow pullover.
    “Later, honey, it’s time for dinner,” Rune said, crouching down and smoothing the girl’s curly dark hair. “This hair is like totally audacious.” She stood up and walked into the galley of the houseboat. As she poured Grape-Nuts into a large bowl and added chocolate chips and cashews she shouted to Claire, “Her hair, I was saying. What it is is all that garbage we use. We dye it and we mousse it and we perm it. I’ll bet if you never touch your hair it’d be as nice as that forever.”
    Claire said sourly, “Well, sure, but that would like be
so
boring.”
    Rune came back into the living room, eating the cereal and drinking a Molson Golden. “You eaten?”
    “We ate Chinese.”
    “Courtney too? Is that good for her?”
    Claire said, “Are you kidding? There are a billion people in China and whatta you think they grew up on?”
    “I don’t know—”
    “You’re
eating that crap?” Claire glanced at the cereal.
    “I’m not a three-year-old. Don’t you watch commercials? She’s supposed to be eating that gross stuff that comes in jars. You know, like pureed carrots and spinach.”
    “Rune,” Claire said, “she’s not an infant. She’s got teeth.”
    “I like spinch,” Courtney said.
    Rune said, “I was you, I’d get that book. Spock.”
    “The guy on the old
Star Trek?”
Claire asked.
    “Different Spock.”
    Claire said, “The Vulcan nerve pinch. That’s what I’d like to learn. Put ‘em right to sleep.”
    “What’s a Vulcan?” Courtney asked. Then she disappeared into the bedroom without waiting for an answer. She returned a few minutes later, pulling a stuffed dragon by the tail.
    Rune made the dragon dance, then hugged Courtney. She asked the little girl, “What’s her name? Do you remember?”
    “Persephy.”
    “Very good. Persephone. And who was Persephone?”
    Courtney held up the dragon.
    “No, I mean in real life?”
    Claire said, “Real life?”
    “She was a goddess,” Courtney answered. “She was Zeus’s little girl.”
    Claire said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea you’re teaching her that stuff like it’s true.”
    “What isn’t true about it?”
    “About the gods and goddesses and fairies and all that shit.”
    “Shit,” said Courtney.
    Rune said to Claire, “You’re saying it’s not true?”
    “You believe in Roman goddesses?”
    “Persephone was Greek. I’m not saying I believe and I’m not saying I don’t.”
    “I want her to grow up to be a highly grounded person,” Claire said.
    “Oh, get real,” Rune said. “Your goal in life is to get to every club in downtown Manhattan and never pay for a drink yourself.
That’s
reality?”
    “I want her to be an adult.”
    Rune whispered, “She’s three years old. She’ll grow up fast enough.”
    Claire cocked an eyebrow at Rune. “Some people I know have resisted adulthood totally successfully.”