The kettle reaching a boil, Edith turns the stove off, pouring water over the teabags in the two cups she's set on the counter. There's something almost startlingly ordinary about it, just going through the motions of something she's done all the time while having a conversation like this, but it's calming, too, steadying, something to keep her focused. What she went through before she got here, she can't pretend that it was easy, that it doesn't haunt her still. Neither can she hold it against Thomas, knowing what she knows now and with the way everything turned out.

"Now you have," she says, making her way back over to the couch and placing both cups on the table. "And now you're here, away from her and that old house."