“You’re late,” Frida said. Wasn’t that what Anika had said to her, that first morning?
“Sorry. I actually slept last night.”
“You did? How long has it been?”
Instead of answering, Anika set to work lighting the other candles and getting the oven going. She unwound her scarf before the room was warm: a tiny form of penance.
“Did you dream?” Frida asked.
Anika shook her head. “Comatose.”
“Why don’t you ask August to get you some sleeping pills?”
“That stuff scares me. Anyway, I don’t like pharmaceuticals.”
“What about birth control?”
Anika smirked. “You’re not wasting any time this morning.”
“How can I, after what I saw in your room? That child’s drawing.”
Anika stuck another branch into the oven.
“When I was about six years old, my dog, a golden retriever mix, jumped onto the counter to get at a near-empty bag of Cheetos. Remember those? They were chips, sort of. Orange and powdery.”
Frida nodded.
“Well, no one was home, and Bongo got his face caught in the bag of Cheetos, and he couldn’t get out. He suffocated in there.”
“That’s awful,” Frida said. She meant it, but she couldn’t help but smile. “And absurd.”
“Curiosity kills, Frida.”
“So does gluttony, apparently.”
Anika shook her head. “You’re not understanding me.”
“Are you telling me there aren’t any answers here? No Cheetos?”
Anika held up a branch as if she were considering displaying it on a mantel. “It’s been so long since everything happened, I wonder if it means anything anymore.”
“It means something to you. I can tell.”
Anika threw the branch into the fire, which was strong and hot by now. “Let’s get started,” she said. “We’re running late.”
Frida told her she wanted to make bread, nothing fancy, and Anika didn’t offer her opinion, as she usually did.
The bread didn’t take much time to prepare; it was so easy, it was hard to ignore the truth: that their morning baking was just an excuse to share stories. A ruse.
“Okay,” Anika said finally. “I do want to talk about it.”
“Then go ahead,” Frida replied. “I’m a pretty good listener.”
“But you’ve kept the most important thing from me.”
“I have?” Frida said. She had the large bowl of dough in her hand. It was ready to rise, and she held on to it tightly. Anika knew she was pregnant. She must have guessed from Frida’s vomiting. Or maybe she had heard her and Cal whispering in her bedroom. Maybe everyone knew.
“The Millers,” Anika said.
Frida exhaled. Her friend was just as oblivious as ever. “What about them?”
Anika brought her voice to a whisper. “As soon as he heard, August told me they were dead. He would never keep something like that from me.” She paused. “But why? Why did they do it?”
“Anika, I have no idea.”
“Bullshit. Tell me why they killed themselves.”
Frida put down the bowl. In an hour the dough would be ready to knead. After only a few days of working in the kitchen, Frida’s hands and arms were baker-strong again, able to make loaf after loaf of bread for the Land. The body never forgets.
“I swear I don’t know, Anika. It’s haunted me for months.”
“When August told me the news,” Anika said, “I nearly fell down. He had to hold me up.”
“Cal buried them,” she said. “It was horrible.”
“You know what’s horrible? That I thought you’d have something useful to tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“All this time, I hoped you’d be able to shed some light on what happened, give me some solace. Help me understand. We allowed Micah into this place so that he’d protect us, and he let two of our founding members die.”
“They weren’t here anymore to be protected,” Frida said. “Why did they leave?”
Anika didn’t reply.
“What difference would it make if I knew anything?” Frida asked. She grabbed Anika’s wrist. It felt wrong, like putting her hands on a stranger.
“This isn’t a fair exchange,” Anika said.
“No, it isn’t.” Frida didn’t say that it reminded her of marriage, which was never fair, but at least it always changed. You gave and gave and gave, and then, eventually, you found yourself taking. Which was the better side to be on?
Anika hadn’t moved her wrist from Frida’s grasp, and Frida took this as a good sign. “Tell me about the drawing,” she said, her tone almost imperious. She sounded like Anika herself, and Anika obeyed.