The room is lit dimly and there is the anticipation of going out—dad’s showered, mom’s putting on make-up, lights are on in bathrooms and closets. I am the babysitter coming over. I tuck my feet under rough-edged bedspread for non-comforting warmth as I dig into homework, reading, lists I’ve avoided, try to cling to their company. I flip through pages but keep coming back to the same one.