Some time passed after the still born baby girl, some time she does not recall. She has vague, cramped images in her mind, but they seem foggy and distant like a dream at 3am, fragmented into glass shards she stays away from. No one has asked her anyway, it is her own insistence that brings them on, her own picking at her useless memory.
Her mother told her that before she was born, she had an older sister who drowned in the lake. Her dead sisters name was given to Rosemary but it was not meant for her, it was pasted on her like an afterthought, more to remember the dead then to honor her birth. It made her feel ashamed, as if she had stolen it, a child thief. Now and then she did not answer when called, did not recognize her name when it was spoken. She had taken on a new name,Cara, only no one else knew. To tell them would be to give it away, have it taken from her and that was not tolerable to her. So while everyone knew her as Rosemary, no one really knew her at all.
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