The woman who works in the office points out where Anna and Mildred walked together, where Mildred pulled out a pistol and shot Anna, then herself, because of a man named Jack. Mildred survived, went to the asylum in Waterbury, where she stayed until her family took her away. Anna died, not in the tower where both the women are standing now, but in the field. The woman who does not work in the office asks the woman who does why Anna would be here. "I don't know," says the woman who works in the office. And then, "I don't think she's here." And then, "I don't know why she would be."
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What I cared about at this time—2011, March through June: distraction. Not fixing anything yet, just pushing it all away—it hurt, it burned me. I cried in the shower, loud enough for my housemates to hear, I howled, and it made no difference in my body.
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When I was nine, my mother, grandmother, and I moved into an old Victorian house in a neighborhood full of old Victorian houses.
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