Excerpt from Everything Inside by Edwidge Danticat, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I don't want you to think Nana's deserting me, like a lot of children forget their parents here," he said.

"She's here now, Mesye Gaspard," Elsie had said. "That's what counts."

Aside from his daughter, he hated having visitors. He minced no words in telling the people who called him, especially the clients and other accountants he'd worked with for years at his tax-­preparation/multiservice business, that he wanted none of them to see him the way he was.

Mona usually walked to Gaspard's room as soon as she woke up. In order to avoid tiring him, they didn't speak much, but for the better part of the morning, she would either be reading a book or texting on her phone.

Blaise called once more, around one o'clock that afternoon, just as Elsie was preparing a palm-­hearts-­and-­avocado salad that Gaspard had requested. His wife used to prepare it for him, and he wished to share the dish with his daughter, who this time was spending the entire week with him.

"I think they hurt her, Elsie," Blaise was saying. His speech was garbled and slow, as though he'd just woken up from a deep sleep.

"Why do you think that?" Elsie asked. Her thumb accidentally slipped across the blade of the knife she was using to slice the palm hearts. She squeezed the edge of the cut with her teeth, the sweet taste of her own blood lingering on her tongue.

"I don't know," he said, "but I can feel it. You know she won't give in just like that. She'll fight."

The night Olivia and Blaise met, Elsie had taken her to see Blaise's band, Kajou, play at Dédé's Night Club in Little Haiti. The place was owned by Luca Dédé, who, like Blaise, was from the northern Haitian town of Limbé. Luca Dédé, a better-­off childhood friend of Blaise's, had gotten Blaise a visa to tour Haitian clubs around the United States. The gigs had not worked out, and Blaise's career never quite took off, making it necessary for him to work the occasional under-­the-­table job during the day.

That night, Elsie wore a plain white blouse with a modest knee-­length black skirt, as though she were going to an office. Olivia wore a green-­sequined cocktail dress that she'd bought in a thrift shop.

"It was the most soirée thing they had," Olivia said when Elsie met her at the entrance.

Dédé's was not a soirée-­type place but a community watering hole with exposed-­brick walls and old black leather booths surrounding the tables scattered in front of the low stage, which was sometimes also used as a dance floor.

"They didn't have one, but I wanted a red dress for tonight," Olivia added. "I wanted fire. I wanted blood."

"You need a man," Elsie said.

"Correct," Olivia said, tilting forward on five-­inch heels to plant a kiss on Elsie's cheek. It was the first time Olivia had greeted her with a kiss, rather than one of her usual intimate-­feeling touches. They were out to have fun, away from their ordinary cage of sickness and death.

Several men gawked at them that night, including Luca Dédé, who kept stroking the thick ropy strands of his beard as if to calm his nerves. Dédé had just begun graying in one tuft near his forehead, which kept catching Elsie's attention. She also realized that he wore the same thing nearly every time she saw him, a white shirt and khaki shorts.

Minding the bar as usual, Dédé sent winks and drinks their way until it was clear that Olivia had no interest in him. Olivia danced with every man who trotted over to their table and held out a hand to her. Several rum punches later, Olivia got up between sets, and on a dare from Elsie, Olivia went up on the stage, stood next to Blaise, and sang, in a surprisingly pitch-­perfect voice, the Haitian national anthem. Olivia received a standing ovation. The crowd whistled and hooted, and Elsie couldn't help notice that her husband was among those cheering the loudest.

Excerpted from Everything Inside by Edwidge Danticat. Copyright © 2019 by Edwidge Danticat. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.