She could defend a sister fiercely and then have no words left for explaining what she herself needed.

They were triplets.

They were not one child repeated three times.

Learning that mattered more than learning to buy matching clothes.

Maya knew Elena largely through the spaces others left in conversation.

At eight, she asked whether her mother would know her voice if she telephoned.

I had been putting plates away.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”