She said, in the morning, “This doesn’t change anything.”

And I said, “I know.”

And it did not change anything, and eleven weeks later she was standing on my mother’s porch.

Part Six: Coffee

My mother made coffee at eleven-forty at night on the ninth of November 2021 and it took her about nine minutes, because she was doing it slowly on purpose, and I sat at her kitchen table and let her.

Then she sat down and she said, “There were two.”

Not I don’t know what you mean. Not a denial.

She had used the nine minutes to decide, and what she had decided was to give me a number.

“Two what.”

“Two things.”