I only knew, watching her, that something in that phone call was terribly, deeply wrong, and that the wrongness was not coming from her.

Chapter 4 — Oslo

I started visiting Edith’s room.

Not to bathe her — I never once mentioned the bath.

Just to sit with her.

I brought her hot coffee, the dark roast she preferred.

I brought her the newspaper, and fresh crossword puzzles, and I let her show off.

“Capital of Norway, four letters,” I asked her one morning, pretending I didn’t know.