Eleanor died in October. It was a quiet death, in a hospital, in the early morning. David Chen called me, and I sat in the kitchen for a long time after I hung up. My mother found me there. She didn't ask what had happened. She just sat down next to me and waited.
"Eleanor's dead," I said.
"I know."
"You know."
"The hospital called."
I looked at her. We had stopped telling each other everything months ago. Or maybe we had started telling each other everything, and I hadn't noticed. Either way, we knew each other differently now than we had before. We were not the same people who had stood in the foyer of the Bellamy house and watched the suitcase by the door.
"Funeral," I said.
"Wednesday."
"Do you want to go."
My mother looked at me. She looked at me with her quiet eyes. And then
