“But here you are.”
“I don’t know how or why.”
“It’s because you aren’t of this world.”
“But I am. I wasn’t born on Mars.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But I’m not heaven-sent, either.”
“What else could you be?”
“I’m a freak, Victoria.”
“Don’t say that.”
“From a carnival freak show.”
“Where we’re from is not what we are.”
“People paid to see the monster—me.”
She bit her lip, shook her head.
“They never wanted their money back. I was every bit as much a monster as advertised.”
“Hush. You’re a beautiful child.”
“And you’re sweet. I will miss you.”
“It’s only true. You’re lovely.”
“The marks pitied me, feared me.”
“No one could.”
“The sight of me sickened others.”
“I’ll never believe that.”
“I was billed as ‘the horror with a pretty face.’”
“Carnival foolishness.”
“For years, you’ve laundered my underthings.”
“They aren’t that different.”
“They are. You haven’t wanted to think about it.”
“Monsters don’t raise the dead.”
“And neither did I. Rafael and Gertie weren’t dead.”
“Raise the dead, heal the dying—it’s the same.”
I rose from my chair, went to her, and held out my right hand, which was as always in a custom-made glove. She got up and took my hand. I led her to a window with a view of the gardens.
