Chapter Eleven

“This, ” Chloe said as another bubble rose up and popped in her face, “is disgusting. ”

“Stop, ” I told her. “He can hear you, you know. ”

She sighed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. It was hot, and the black asphalt of the driveway made things seem positively steamy. Monkey, however, sitting between us in a plastic baby pool up to his haunches in cold water, was totally content.

“Get his front feet, ” I said to Chloe, squeezing more shampoo into my hand and lathering it up. “They’re really dirty. ”

“All of him is dirty, ” she grumbled as Monkey stood up and shook again, sending soap suds and dirty water over both of us in a wave. “And have you looked at these nails? They’re longer than Talinga’s, for God’s sake. ”

Monkey stood up suddenly, barking, having spied a cat working its way through a row of hedges on the edge of Chloe’s yard. “Down boy, ” Chloe said. “Hello? Sit, Monkey. Sit. ”

Monkey shook again, dousing us both, and I pushed down on his butt. He sat with a splash, his tail flopping over the side. “Good boy, ” I said, even though he was already trying to stand up again.

“You know, if my mother were to show up now I’d be homeless, ” Chloe said, spraying Monkey’s chest with the hose. “Just the sight of this mangy beast within spitting distance of her prized Blue Category Chem Special would give her an aneurysm. ”

“Blue Category What? ”

“It’s a kind of grass, ” she explained.

“Oh. ”

Chloe had first given me a flat‑ out no when she opened the door to see me on her front porch, shampoo and dog in hand, before I’d even begun my hard sell. But after a few minutes of wheedling, plus a promise to buy her dinner and whatever else she wanted to do that night, she’d relented, and even seemed to warm to Monkey a bit, petting him cautiously as I got the baby pool‑ a Wal‑ Mart bargain at a mere nine bucks‑ out of my car. I’d planned to wash the dog at my house, but Chris had co‑ opted our hose to rig up an elaborate watering system for the lizards, which left me with few options.

“I still can’t believe how low you’ve stooped, ” she said now as I finished the final rinse, then let Monkey leap from the pool and do a series of full‑ body shakes up and down the driveway. “This is total girlfriend behavior. ”

“No, ” I said, steering Monkey away from the grass before Chloe had a chance to freak out. “This is a humanitarian act. He was miserable. ”

Which was true. Plus, I’d been spending a fair amount of time with Monkey lately, and okay, there was a certain odor to him. And if all it took to fix things was a five‑ dollar bottle of dog shampoo, some nail clippers, and a quick trim, what was the harm in taking action? It wasn’t for me, anyway. It was for Monkey.

“I thought you weren’t getting attached, ” she said as I pulled the clippers out of my pocket and sat the dog down again.

“I’m not, ” I told her. “It’s just for the summer. I told you that. ”

“I’m not talking about Dexter. ” She nodded at Monkey, who was now trying to lick my face. He stank of citrus now: all they’d had left was an orangey citrus scent. But we’d trimmed the hair over his eyes and around his feet, which made him look five years younger. It was true what Lola said: a good haircut changed everything. “This is an additional level of commitment. And responsibility. It’s going to make things complicated. ”

“Chloe, he’s a dog, not a five‑ year‑ old with an abandonment complex. ”

“Still. ” She squatted down beside me, watching as I finished up one paw and switched to the other. “And anyway, what happened to our wild and carefree summer? Once you dumped Jonathan I thought we’d just date our way to August. No worries. Remember? ”

“I’m not worried, ” I said.

“Not now, ” she said darkly.

“Not ever, ” I told her. I stood up. “There. He’s done. ”

We stood back and surveyed our work. “A vast improvement, ” she said.

“You think? ”

“Anything would have been, ” she said, shrugging. But then she bent down and petted him, running her hand over the top of his head as I spread a few towels across the backseat of my car. I liked Monkey, sure, but that didn’t necessarily mean I was up for picking dog hair out of my upholstery for the next few weeks.

“Come on, Monk, ” I called out, and he sprang up, trotting down the driveway. He just hopped in, then promptly stuck his head out the back window, sniffing the air. “Thanks for the help, Chloe. ”

As I slid into the front seat, the leather hot under my legs, she stood and watched me, her hands on her hips. “You know, ” she said, “it’s not too late. If you go ahead and break up with him now you’d still have a good month’s worth of quality single‑ girl time before you leave for school. ”

I stuck my key in the ignition. “I’ll keep that in mind, ” I said.

“See you around five‑ thirty? ”

“Yeah, ” I told her. “I’ll pick you up. ”

She nodded, then stood there, one hand shielding her eyes as I backed out into the street. Of course it would be that cut‑ and‑ dried for her, how I could end things with Dexter. It was the way we’d always operated. Chloe was, after all, my twin in all things concerning boys and relationships. Now, I was throwing her a curve, veering off in a way she couldn’t understand. I knew how she felt. Ever since I’d met Dexter, things weren’t making much sense to me either.

The collage was on the wall in the kitchen of the yellow house, right over the sofa. It started innocently enough, with just a couple of snapshots tacked up; at first glance, I’d assumed they were of the guys’ friends. But upon closer inspection, I’d realized that the pictures, like the ones Dexter had given me weeks earlier, were of customers of Flash Camera.

Dexter and Lucas had both been hired there to run the photo machine, which basically consisted of sitting on a stool and peering through a little hole at the images, marking them and adjusting them, if possible, for optimum color and brightness. This wasn’t rocket science, but it did involve a bit of skill, a good eye, and most of all an attention span that could focus on one, sometimes monotonous activity for an hour or two at a time. This meant, pretty much, that Dexter was out. After Dexter had ruined an entire set of once‑ in‑ a‑ lifetime Hawaiian vacation pictures and twenty disposable wedding cameras, the owner of Flash Camera gently suggested that he might be happier using his strong customer service skills by taking a counter position. And because he was so charming, she’d kept him on at a technician’s salary, which Lucas was always quick to bitch about when given the chance.

“My job involves so much more responsibility, ” he’d sniff every payday, snatching up his check. “All you have to do is basic math and be able to alphabetize. ”

“Ah, ” Dexter always said, smartly adjusting his name tag in a model employee fashion, “but I alphabetize very, very well. ”

Actually, he didn’t. He was constantly losing people’s pictures, mostly because he’d get distracted and stick the R s in with the B s, or sometimes glance at the labels wrong and put them under people’s first names. If he worked for me, I wouldn’t have trusted him with anything more complicated than sharpening pencils, and even that only when supervised.

So while Ted, working at Mayor’s Market, could score some bruised but edible produce, and John Miller was jacked up on coffee constantly from his job at Jump Java, Dexter and Lucas were left with little to contribute. That is, until they started making doubles of the pictures that intrigued them.

They were boys, so of course it started with a set of dirty pictures. Not X‑ rated, exactly: the first one on the wall that I saw was of a woman in her bra and panties, posing in front of a fireplace. She wasn’t exactly pretty, however, and it didn’t help that right in the back of the shot, clearly visible, was a huge bag of cat litter with the words KITTY KLEAN! splashed across the front of it, which took away from that exotic, Playboy ‑ esque quality that I assumed she and whoever took the picture had been going for.

As the weeks passed, more and more pictures were added to the collage. There were vacation snapshots, a family posing en masse in front of the Washington Monument, everyone smiling except for one daughter who was scowling darkly, her middle finger clearly displayed. A few more nudie shots, including one of a very fat man spread out in black underwear across a leopard‑ skin bedspread. All of these people had no idea that in a little yellow house off Merchant Drive their personal memories were being slapped up on the wall and showcased as art for strangers.

The day I washed Monkey, Chloe and I brought him back about six, and Dexter was already home, sitting in the living room watching PBS and eating tangerines. Apparently they were on special at Mayor’s Market, and Ted was getting a discount. They came about twenty‑ five to a case and, like Don’s Ensures at home, were everywhere.

“Okay, ” I said, pushing open the screen door and holding Monkey back by the collar. “Behold. ”

I let him go, and he skittered across the floor, tail wagging madly, to leap on the couch, knocking a stack of magazines to the floor. “Oh, man, look at you, ” Dexter said, scratching Monkey behind his ears. “He smells different, ” he said. “Like you washed him in Orange Crush. ”

“That’s the shampoo, ” Chloe said, flopping into the plastic lawn chair next to the coffee table. “It’ll stop stinking in, oh, about a week. ”

Dexter glanced at me and I shook my head to show him she was kidding. Monkey hopped off the couch and went into the kitchen, where we heard him gulping down what sounded like about a gallon of water without stopping.

“Well, ” Dexter said, pulling me into his lap, “those makeovers sure make a man thirsty. ”

The screen door opened and John Miller walked in, tossing the van keys onto a speaker by the door. Then he walked to the middle of the room, held up his hands to stop all conversation, and said, very simply, “I have news. ”

We all looked at him. Then the door opened again, and Ted came in, still wearing his Mayor’s Market green smock, and carrying two boxes of tangerines.

“Oh, God, ” Dexter said, “ please no more tangerines. ”

“I have news, ” Ted announced, ignoring this. “Big news. Where’s Lucas? ”

“Work, ” Dexter said.

“I have news too, ” John Miller said to Ted. “And I was here first, so‑ ”

“This is important news, ” Ted replied, waving him off. “Okay, so‑ ”

“Wait just a second! ” John Miller shook his head, his face incredulous. He had been born indignant, always convinced that he was somehow being wronged. “Why do you always do that? You know, my news could be important too. ”

It was quiet as Ted and Dexter exchanged a skeptical look, not unnoticed by John Miller, who sighed loudly, shaking his head.

“Maybe, ” Dexter said finally, holding up his hands, “we should just take a moment to really think about the fact that we’ve gone a long time with no big news at all, and now here, simultaneously, we have two big newses all at once. ”

“Newses? ” Chloe said.

“The point is, ” Dexter went on smoothly, “it’s really impressive. ”

“The point is, ” Ted said loudly, “I met this A and R chick today from Rubber Records and she’s coming to hear us tonight. ”

Silence. Except for Monkey walking in, dripping water from his mouth, his newly clipped nails tippy‑ tapping very quietly on the floor.

“Does anyone smell oranges? ” Ted asked, sniffing.

“That, ” John Miller said darkly, glaring at him, “was totally unfair. ”

“A and R? ” Chloe said. “What’s that? ”

“Artists and Repertoire, ” Ted explained, taking off his smock and balling it up in one hand, then stuffing it into his back pocket. “It means if she likes us she might offer us a deal. ”

“I had news, ” John Miller grumbled, but it was over. He knew he’d been beaten. “Big news. ”

“How serious is this? ” Dexter asked Ted, leaning forward. “Just‑ making‑ conversation‑ I’ll‑ show‑ up‑ to‑ see‑ you, or definitely‑ I‑ have‑ pull‑ at‑ the‑ label‑ I’ll‑ come‑ see‑ you? ”

Ted reached into his pocket. “She gave me a card. She’s got a meeting tonight, but when I said we usually started the second set by ten‑ thirty she said she’d make it by then, no problem. ”

Dexter slid me off his lap, then stood up, and Ted handed him the card. He squinted at it for a good while, then handed it back. “Okay, ” he said. “Find Lucas. We have to talk about this. ”

“You know this could be nothing, ” John Miller said, still smarting a bit. “It could be a bunch of smoke up your ass. ”

“And it probably is, ” Ted replied. “But it also could be that she likes us and we get a meeting and before the summer’s out we’re in a bigger place, bigger venue, bigger town. It happened to Spinnerbait. ”

“Hate Spinnerbait, ” John Miller said, and they all three nodded, as if this was clear fact.

“Spinnerbait has a deal, though, ” Dexter added. “And a record. ”

“Spinnerbait? ” I said.

“They were this band that started playing the bars near Williamsburg when we did, ” Dexter said to me. “Total assholes. Frat rats. But they had this really good guitar player‑ ”

“He wasn’t that good, ” Ted said indignantly. “Totally overrated. ”

“‑ and their original stuff was tight. They got signed last year. ” Dexter sighed, then looked up at the ceiling. “We hate Spinnerbait. ”

“Hate Spinnerbait, ” John Miller repeated, and Ted nodded.

“Okay, get ahold of Lucas, ” Dexter said, slapping his hands together. “Emergency session. Band meeting! ”

“Band meeting! ” Ted yelled, as if everyone who was in the band and could feasibly hear it wasn’t within a two‑ foot radius. “I’m gonna go scrub up and we reconnoiter in the kitchen, twenty minutes. ”

Dexter grabbed the cordless phone off the top of the TV, jabbed in some numbers, and then left the room with it pressed against his ear. I could hear him ask for Lucas, then say, “Guess what Ted scored at work today? ” Then a pause, as Lucas offered a theory. “No, not tangerines…”

John Miller sat down on the couch, crossing one leg over another and leaning back so that his head hit the wall behind him with a thunk. Chloe looked at me, raising her eyebrows, then shook a cigarette out of her pack and lit it, dropping the spent match in an ashtray already overflowing with tangerine peels.

“Okay, I’ll bite, ” I said finally. “What’s your news? ”

“No, now it’s completely anticlimactic, ” he grumbled. He still looked so much like a little kid to me, all red haired and freckled, like a grade schooler you might see on TV in a peanut butter commercial. It didn’t help that he was pouting.

“Suit yourself, ” I said, and picked up the remote, turning the TV on. It wasn’t like I was about to beg him or anything.

“My news was, ” he said slowly, lifting his head off the wall, “that she agreed to come to Bendo tonight. ”

“She did. ”

“Yes. Finally. I’ve only been asking her for weeks. ” He reached up and scratched his ear. “And it was a very big deal because I was beginning to think I was going to make no progress at all with her. ”

I said to Chloe, “John Miller is in love with his boss. ”

Chloe exhaled loudly. “At Jump Java? ”

John Miller sighed again. “She’s not really my boss, ” he told us. “She’s more of a coworker. A friend, really. ”

Chloe looked at me. “This is Scarlett Thomas? ”

I nodded, but John Miller’s eyes shot open. “You know her? ”

“I guess, ” Chloe said, shrugging. “Remy knows her better, though. She and Chris go way back, right? ”

I swallowed, concentrating on flipping the channels on the TV. I’d known about John Miller’s infatuation with Scarlett back when it was just curious interest, then watched‑ along with the rest of the employees at various Mayor’s Village businesses‑ as it progressed to puppy‑ dog‑ esque devotion before finally reaching the ridiculous level of romantic pining that was its current state. Scarlett was the manager of Jump Java, and she’d only hired John Miller because of Lola, who she still owed a favor to for her last cut and color. And while I’d listened to John Miller sing her praises, I’d managed to keep it quiet that I knew her more than just in passing. Until now.

I could feel John Miller looking at me, even as I pretended to be completely engrossed in a news story about structural problems with the new county dam. He said, “Remy? You know Scarlett? ”

“My brother dated her, ” I said, in what I hoped was a no‑ big‑ deal kind of voice. “It was ages ago. ”

He reached over and took the remote, hitting the mute button. The dam remained on the screen, holding water back just fine, it seemed to me. “Tell me, ” he said. “Now. ”

I looked at him.

“I mean, ” he said quickly, “can you tell me? Anything? ”

Across the room, Chloe laughed. I shrugged and said, “My brother dated her toward the end of their senior year. It wasn’t serious. Chris was still in his pothead thing, and Scarlett was way too smart to put up with it. Plus she already had Grace, then. ”

He nodded. Grace was Scarlett’s daughter, who was three now. She’d been born when Scarlett was a junior, causing a minor neighborhood scandal. But Scarlett had stayed in school, finishing during a summer session the credits she’d missed, and now was taking classes part‑ time at the university while managing Jump Java and, apparently, putting up with the besotted John Miller passing longing glances over the muffins about twenty hours a week.

“Isn’t Scarlett a little out of your league? ” Chloe asked him, not unkindly. “I mean, she’s got a kid. ”

“I am wonderful with children, ” he said indignantly. “Grace loves me. ”

“Grace loves everybody, ” I told him. Just like Monkey, I thought. Kids and dogs. It’s just too easy.

“No, ” he said, “she especially likes me. ”

Dexter stuck his head through the doorway and pointed a finger at John Miller. “Band meeting! ” he said.

“Band meeting, ” John Miller repeated, standing up. Then he looked at me and said, “A little help tonight would be greatly appreciated, Remy. A good word, maybe? ”

“I can’t promise anything, ” I said. “But I’ll see what I can do. ”

He seemed happier, hearing this, as he headed into the kitchen. I got up and grabbed my purse, finding my keys. “Let’s go, ” I said to Chloe. “Band meeting and all. ”

She nodded, stuffing her smokes in her pocket and walking to the front door, pushing it open. “I’ll call Lissa from the car. See if she wants to meet us at the Spot. ”

“Sounds good. ”

As the screen door slammed behind her, Dexter walked over to me. “This is big, ” he said, smiling. “I mean, maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’ll be a crushing disappointment. ”

“That’s the right attitude. ”

“Or maybe, ” he went on, pulling his hands through his hair the way he always did when just barely able to contain himself, “it’s the beginning of something. You know, when Spinnerbait got that meeting with the label, they immediately got an in to the bigger clubs. We could be in Richmond, or D. C., easy. It could happen. ”

He was just standing there, grinning, and I made myself smile back. Of course this was good news. Wasn’t it me who wanted everything to be transitory, anyway? It was the best‑ case scenario, really, for him to get some great chance and ride off in the dirty white van into the sunset, tailpipe dragging. In time he’d just be some story I’d tell, about the crazy musician I’d spent the last days of my senior summer with, just the way Scarlett Thomas was only a footnote now to Chris. They had these stupid songs about potatoes, I could hear myself telling someone. A whole opus.

Yes, definitely. It was best this way.

Dexter leaned down and kissed my forehead, then looked at me closely, cocking his head to the side. “You okay? You look weird. ”

“Thanks, ” I said. “God. ”

“No, I mean, you just seem‑ ”

“Band meeting! ” Ted yelled from the kitchen. “We’re recon noitering right now! ”

Dexter glanced toward the doorway, then back at me.

“Go, ” I said, pressing my palms to his chest and pushing him backward, gently. “Band meeting. ”

He smiled, and for a second I felt a tug, some alien feeling that made me, for an instant, want to pull him back within arm’s length. But by then he was already walking backward, toward the kitchen, where the voices of his band mates were now building as they made their plans.

“I’ll see you at Bendo around nine, ” he said. “Right? ”

I nodded, cool as ever, and he turned the corner, leaving me standing there. Watching him go. What a weird feeling that was. I decided I didn’t like it. Not at all.

By ten‑ thirty, as Truth Squad’s second set was about to get under way, the A & R chick still hadn’t shown up. The natives were getting restless.

“I say we just go on and forget about her, ” Lucas said, spitting some ice back into his cup of ginger ale. “All this worrying is making us suck anyway. Ted was off key the whole last set. ”

Ted, sitting next to me and carving lines into the table, glared at him darkly. “I, ” he said, “am the only reason she’s coming. So get off my fucking back. ”

“Now, now. ” Dexter tugged at his collar, something he’d been doing all night long: it was completely stretched out of shape, hanging lopsided. “We need to go up there and do the best job we can. A lot is riding on this. ”

“No pressure, though, ” Lucas grumbled.

“Where the hell is John Miller? ” Ted said, pushing up from the table and craning his neck around the room. “Isn’t this a band meeting? ”

“It’s impromptu, ” Dexter told him, tugging at his collar again. “Plus he’s over there with what’s‑ her‑ name. The coffee boss. ”

We all looked at once. Sure enough, at a booth by the stage, John Miller was sitting with Scarlett. He had his drumsticks on the table and was talking animatedly, using his hands. Scarlett was drinking a beer and listening, a polite smile on her face. Every once in a while she’d glance around the room, as if she’d expected this to be more of a group thing and was wondering where everyone else was.

“Pathetic, ” Ted said. “Totally blowing us and the band’s future off for a chick. That’s Yoko Ono behavior, man. ”

“Leave him alone, ” Dexter said. “Okay, so I’m thinking we should start with ‘Potato Song Two, ’ then do the kumquat version, and then…”

I tuned them out, drawing my finger through the circle of water under my beer. Off to my left, I could see Chloe, Lissa, and Jess talking to a group of guys at the bar. At the Spot earlier, Chloe had decided they all needed to “get back out there” and make the most of the “summer single‑ girl thing, ” appointing herself ringleader for the effort. So far there had been progress: she was sitting on a barstool next to a blond guy with surfer looks. Lissa was talking to two guys, one really cute, who was still scop ing the room as if in search of an upgrade (bad sign), and one not‑ so‑ cute‑ but‑ decent who seemed interested and not completely offended that he was most likely an also‑ ran. And then there was Jess, trapped by the beer taps by a short, wiry guy who was talking so excitedly that she kept having to lean back, which could only have meant he was spitting out more than words.

“… decided that we’d do no covers. That was the entire upshot of yesterday’s meeting, ” Dexter said.

“I’m just saying that if the potato songs don’t go over well we need a backup plan, ” Lucas argued. “What if she hates potatoes? What if she thinks the songs are, you know, infantile, frat‑ party crap? ”

There was a moment of astonished silence as Dexter and Ted absorbed this. Then Ted said, “So that’s what you think? ”

“No, ” Lucas said quickly, glancing at Dexter, who was now tugging his collar hard enough that I had to reach up and unlatch his fingers, bringing down his hand. He hardly noticed. Lucas said, “I’m just saying we don’t want to come across as derivative. ”

“And doing covers isn’t derivative? ” Dexter said.

“Covers will get the crowd going and show our range, ” Lucas told him. “Look, I’ve been in a lot of bands‑ ”

“Oh, God, ” Ted said, throwing up his hands dramatically. “Here we go. Educate us, oh wise one. ”

“‑ and I know from experience that these reps like a tight set that gets the crowd going and showcases our potential as a band. Which means a mix of our own stuff and songs that we cover, yeah, but with our own take on them. It’s not like we do ‘I’ve Got You Babe’ just the way Sonny and Cher do. We give it a twist. ”

“We are not doing a Sonny and Cher song here tonight! ” Ted yelled. “No way, man. I am not going to be the G Flats for this chick. That’s wedding crap. Forget it. ”

“It was just an example, ” Lucas said flatly. “We can do another song. Calm down, would you? ”

“Hey, ” Robert, the owner of Bendo, yelled from behind the bar, “you guys planning on actually working tonight? ”

“Let’s go, ” Ted said, standing up and finishing his beer.

“Did we even decide anything? ” Lucas asked, but Ted ignored him as they made their way to the stage.

Dexter sighed, running his fingers through his hair. I’d never seen him like this, so on edge. “God, ” he said softly, shaking his head. “This is so freaking stressful. ”

“Stop thinking about it, ” I told him. “Just go up there and play the way you always do. Thinking about it is throwing you off. ”

“We sounded like shit, didn’t we? ”

“No, ” I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. But Ted had been off‑ key, John Miller was showboating outrageously‑ tossing drumsticks in the air, missing them‑ and Dexter had mangled the words to “Potato Song Three, ” a song that I knew he could, literally, sing in his sleep. “But you sounded unsure of yourself. Wobbly. And you’re not. You’ve done this a million times. ”

“A million times. ” He still didn’t sound convinced, however.

“It’s like riding a bike, ” I told him. “If you actually think about it too much, you realize how complicated a concept it actually is. You have to just hop on and go, and not worry about the mechanics. Let it run itself. ”

“You, ” he said, kissing my cheek, “are so right. How can you always be so right? ”

“It’s a curse, ” I said, shrugging. He squeezed my leg and slid out of the booth, still tugging at his collar, and I watched him weave through the crowd, stopping to flick John Miller, who was still chatting up Scarlett, on the head as he passed. Ted put on his guitar, played a few random chords, and then he, Lucas, and Dexter exchanged glances and head nods, setting the game plan.

The first song was a bit unsteady. But then, the next was better. I could see Dexter relaxing, easing into it, and by the third song, when I saw the A & R chick come in, they sounded tighter than they had all evening. I recognized her immediately. First, she was a little old for Bendo, which catered to a college and younger crowd, and second, she was dressed entirely too fashionably for this small town: black pants, silky shirt, small black glasses just nerdy enough to be cool. Her hair was long and pulled back loosely at the base of her neck, and when she walked up to the bar for a drink, every one of the guys chatting up my girlfriends stopped to stare at her. By the time the song wound down, the crowd on the floor was thickening, and I saw Ted glance at the bar, see her, and then say something, quietly, to Dexter.

After the applause and hooting died down, Dexter tugged at his shirt collar and said, “Okay, we’re going to do a little number for you now called ‘The Potato Song. ’ ”

The crowd cheered: they’d been playing Bendo long enough now that “The Potato Song, ” and its many incarnations, was known. Ted started the opening bridge, John Miller picked up his sticks, and they launched into it.

I kept my eyes on the girl at the bar. She was listening, beer in hand, taking a sip now and then. She smiled at the line about the vegan princess, and again when the crowd chimed in and yelled, “sweet potato! ” And when it was over, she clapped enthusiastically, not just politely. A good sign.

Feeling confident, they continued with another “Potato Song. ” But this one wasn’t quite so strong, and the crowd didn’t know it as well. They gave it a good shot, the best they could, but it sounded flat, and at one point John Miller, who’d only recently learned the new part, screwed up and lost the beat for a second. I saw Dexter flinch at this, then tug his collar. Ted was looking everywhere but at the bar. They launched right into another original song, one not even about potatoes, but it too sounded off, and they cut it short after two verses, ditching the third.

By now the A & R girl seemed distracted, almost bored, looking around the club and then‑ very bad sign‑ at her watch. Ted leaned over and said something to Dexter, who shook his head quickly. But then Lucas stepped forward, nodding, and Ted said something else, and Dexter finally shrugged and turned back to the microphone. John Miller tapped out a beat, Ted picked it up, and they launched full force into an old Thin Lizzy song. And suddenly the crowd was right with them again, pressing up closer. And after the first verse, the A & R chick ordered another beer.

When the song was over, Ted spoke to Dexter, who hesitated. Then Ted said something else, and Dexter made a face, shaking his head.

Just do it, I thought to myself. Another cover won’t kill you.

Dexter looked at Lucas, who nodded, and I relaxed. Then the first chords began. They sounded so familiar, somehow, as if I knew them in a different incarnation. I listened for a second, and the realization grew stronger, as if it was just at the tip of my mind, close enough to touch. And then, I got it.

“This lullaby, ” Dexter sang, “is only a few words…”

Oh, my God, I thought.

“A simple run of chords…”

It sounded more retro and lounge‑ singer‑ esque, the maudlin aspect that had made it a wedding and lite FM favorite now twisted into something else, something self‑ mocking, as if it was winking at its own seriousness. I felt a drop in my stomach: he knew how I felt about this. He knew. And still, he kept singing.

“Quiet here in this spare room, but you can hear it, hear it…”

The crowd was loving it, cheering, some girls along the back row singing along, hands on their hearts, like washed‑ up divas on the Labor Day telethon.

I looked over at the bar, where Chloe was staring right at me, but she didn’t have a smug look, instead something even worse. It might have been pity, but I turned my head away before I could know for sure. And a few seats down from her, the A & R chick was swaying, smiling. She loved it.

I got up from the booth. All around me the crowd was singing along to the song, one they’d heard all their lives too, but never quite in the context that I had. To them it was just old and sappy enough now to be nostalgic, a song their parents might have listened to. It was probably played at their bar mitzvahs or sisters’ weddings, trotted out about the same time as “Daddy’s Little Girl” and “Butterfly Kisses. ” But it was working. The appeal was obvious, the energy coming through the crowd so strongly, the kind of response that Ted, in a million potato dreams, wouldn’t even have hoped for.

“I will let you down, ” Dexter sang as I pushed my way toward the bar. “But this lullaby plays on…”

I went to the bathroom, where for once there was no line, and shut myself into a stall. Then I sat down, pulled my hands through my hair, and told myself to calm down. It meant nothing, this song. All my life I’d let other people put so much weight to it, until it was heavy enough to drown me, but it was just music. But even there, locked in the stall, I could still hear it going, those notes I’d known by heart for as long as I could remember, now twisted and different, with another man I hardly knew who had some claim to me, however small, singing the words.

What had my mother always said when we listened to it on the one scratchy album she owned of my dad, back when we still had a record player? His gift to you, she’d tell me, idly brushing my hair back from my forehead with a dreamy expression, as if someday I’d truly understand how important this was. By then, she had already forgotten the bad times with my father, the ones I heard secondhand: how they were dirt‑ poor, how he’d hardly spent any time with Chris when he was a baby, and only married her‑ not even legally, it turned out‑ in a last‑ ditch attempt to save a relationship already beyond repair. What a legacy. What a gift. It was like a parting prize in a game show where I’d lost big, a handful of Rice‑ A‑ Roni and some cheap luggage thrust upon me as I left, little consolation.

The final note sounded: the drum cymbals hummed. Then, huge applause, cheering. It was over.

Okay then. I walked out of the bathroom and headed straight to the bar, where Chloe was sitting on a stool with a bored expression. Truth Squad was still going, playing a medley of camp songs‑ played Led Zeppelin style, with crashing guitars and a lot of whooping‑ that I recognized as being a set‑ ender. The guy Chloe had been talking to was gone, Lissa was still talking to the not‑ cute‑ but‑ decent one, and Jess, I assumed, had used one of her regular excuses and was either “at the pay phone” or “getting something from the car. ”

“What happened to the surfer boy? ” I asked Chloe as she scooted over, making room for me on her stool.

“Girlfriend, ” she said, nodding to a booth off on our left, where the guy was now nuzzling a redheaded girl with a pierced eyebrow.

I nodded as Ted did a few windmill guitar moves, John Miller going all out on a drum solo, his face almost as red as his hair. I wondered if Scarlett was impressed, but she’d left the booth where she’d been sitting, so I couldn’t know for sure.

“Interesting song choice earlier, didn’t you think? ” Chloe asked me, pushing off the floor with her foot so that we twisted slightly in the stool, to one side and then back again. “Couldn’t help but feel that I had heard it somewhere before. ”

I didn’t say anything, instead just watching as John Miller continued to battle his drum set while the crowd clapped along.

“Of all the things he should know, ” she went on, “that you hate that song is a freaking given. I mean, God. It’s basic. ”

“Chloe, ” I said softly, “shut up, okay? ”

I could feel her looking at me, slightly wide‑ eyed, before going back to stirring her drink with her finger. Now there was only one person between me and the A & R chick, who was jotting something down with a pencil she’d borrowed from the bartender, who was watching her write with great interest while ignoring a whole slew of people waving money for beers.

“We’re Truth Squad! ” Dexter yelled, “and we’re here every Tuesday. Thank you and good night! ”

The canned dance music came on, everyone pushed toward the bar, and I watched as Dexter hopped off the stage, conferred with Ted for a second, and they both began heading toward us, Lucas in tow. John Miller was already making a beeline for Scarlett, who I now saw standing by the door, as if trying to ease herself out gradually.

The A & R chick was already holding out her hand to Dexter as they came up. “Arianna Moss, ” she said, and Dexter pumped her hand a bit too eagerly. “Great set. ”

“Thanks, ” he replied, and she kept smiling at him. I glanced across the room, looking toward the door, wondering where Jess was.

Ted, pressing closer, added, “The acoustics in here are terrible. We’d sound much better with decent equipment, and the crowd kind of sucks. ”

Dexter shot him a you‑ aren’t‑ helping kind of look. “We’d love to hear what you think, ” he said to her. “Can I buy you a beer? ”

She glanced at her watch. “Sure. Let me just make a call first. ”

As she walked away, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket, Dexter saw me, waved, and mouthed that he’d be just a minute. I shrugged, and he started to move toward me, but Ted pulled him back.

“What the hell are you doing? ” he demanded. “She’s here to talk to all of us, Dexter, not just you. ”

“He said we wanted to hear what she thinks, ” Lucas told him. “Calm down. ”

“He’s buying her a beer! ” Ted said.

“That’s called public relations, ” Dexter told him, glancing back in my direction. But now Arianna Moss was already coming back, tucking her phone in her pocket.

“And what was up with that song? ” Ted shook his head, incredulous. “Sonny and Cher would have been better. God, anything would have been better. We might as well have had on leisure suits and been playing dinner theater with that crappy song. ”

“She loved it, ” Dexter said, trying to catch my eye, but I let a burly guy wearing a baseball cap step into my line of vision.

“She did, ” Lucas agreed. “Plus it got us out of the bottomless pit into which ‘The Potato Song’ had flung us. ”

“‘The Potato Song, ’” Ted huffed, “was doing just fine. If John Miller had bothered to make it to the last band practice on time‑ ”

“Oh, it’s always somebody else, isn’t it? ” Lucas snapped.

“Shut up, you guys, ” Dexter said under his breath.

“Ready to talk? ” Arianna Moss asked as she walked up. She asked Dexter. I noticed, and so did Ted. But only he, of course, was truly bothered.

“Sure, ” Dexter said. “Over here okay? ”

“Sounds good. ”

They started walking and I turned my back again, waving down the bartender for a beer as they passed. By the time I’d paid they were sitting in a booth by the door, she and Dexter on one side, Lucas and Ted on the other. She was talking: they were all listening.

Jess appeared next to my elbow. “Is it time to go yet? ” she asked me.

“Where have you been? ” Chloe said.

“I had to get something from the car, ” Jess said flatly.

“Remy, hey, there you are. ” John Miller popped up beside me. “You seen Scarlett? ”

“She was over by the door last I saw her. ”

He jerked his head around, eyes scanning the wall. Then he started waving his arms. “Scarlett! Over here! ”

Scarlett looked up, saw us, and smiled in a way that made me think I’d been right on in assuming she’d been hoping to leave in‑ conspicuously. But John Miller was waving her over, oblivious, so she had no choice but to work her way through the crowd to us.

“You were great, ” she said to John Miller, who beamed. “Really good. ”

“We’re usually a lot tighter, ” John Miller told her with a bit of a swagger, “but Ted was off tonight. He was late for the last practice, didn’t know the new arrangements. ”

Scarlett nodded and glanced around her. The crowd at the bar was thickening, now about three deep, and people kept jostling us.

Lucas came up behind John Miller and managed to flick him on the back of the head while balancing two beers. “Hey, in case you, you know, have a minute, we’re talking to this A & R woman over here and she’s probably getting us a great gig in D. C. if, you know, you care in the least. ”

John Miller rubbed the back of his head. “D. C.? Really? ”

“That big theater, the one where we saw Spinnerbait that time. ” Lucas grimaced. “Hate Spinnerbait, though. ”

“Hate Spinnerbait, ” John Miller agreed, taking one of the beers. “That’s a band, ” he explained to Scarlett.

“Ah, ” she said.

“Come on, ” Lucas said. “She needs to talk to all of us. This could be big, man. ”

“I’ll be back in a minute, ” John Miller said to Scarlett, squeezing her arm. “This is just, you know, official band business. Management decisions and all that. ”

“Right, ” Scarlett said as he followed Lucas over to the booth, where Ted made room for both of them. I could see Dexter sitting in the corner, against the wall, folding a matchbook and listening intently as Arianna Moss spoke.

“Poor you, ” Chloe said to Scarlett. “He’s obsessed. ”

“He’s very nice, ” Scarlett said.

“He’s pathetic. ” Chloe hopped off the barstool. “I’m going to the bathroom. You coming? ”

I shook my head. She bumped a couple of guys aside and disappeared into the crowd. As the bodies around us shifted I could catch the occasional glance of Dexter. He looked like he was explaining something while Arianna Moss nodded her head, taking a sip of her beer. Ted and Lucas were talking, and John Miller seemed totally distracted, glancing over at us every few seconds to make sure Scarlett hadn’t made a break for it.

“John Miller’s very nice, ” I said, feeling obligated to do so just because he kept looking at me.

“He is, ” Scarlett agreed. “A little young for me, though. I’m not sure he’s really parent material, if you know what I mean. ”

I wanted to tell her that this, at least in my experience, wasn’t as big of a factor in a relationship as you’d think, but decided against it.

“So how long have you been dating Dexter? ” she asked me.

“Not long. ” I glanced over again at the booth. Dexter was waving his hands around while Arianna Moss laughed, lighting a cigarette. You would have thought they were on a date. If you didn’t know better.

“He seems really great, ” she said. “Sweet. And funny. ”

I nodded. “Yeah. He is. ”

Ted suddenly appeared next to me, bursting through a crowd of large girls in tight shirts who seemed to be celebrating a bach elorette: one of them was wearing a veil, the rest Barbie hats. “Two beers! ” he shouted at the bartender in his typical vexed way, then stood there and seethed for a second before noticing us.

“How’s it going? ” I asked him.

He glared back at the booth. “Fine. Dexter will probably be in her pants within the hour, not that it’s gonna help the band any. ”

Scarlett looked at me, raising her eyebrows. I said, “Really. ”

“Well, ” he shrugged, as if only now realizing that maybe I wasn’t the best person to say this to. Not that it stopped him: this was Ted, after all. “It’s just how he is, you know. He hooks up, things end badly, and we’re out a gig, or a place to live, or a hundred bucks in grocery money. He always does this. ”

Now, standing there, I felt so stupid I was sure it showed on my face, if that was possible. I picked up Chloe’s drink‑ now all ice‑ and took a gulp from it, just to do something.

“The point is, ” he growled as the beers were dropped in front of him, “if we’re going to work as a group, we have to think as a group. Period. ”

And then he was gone, bumping the girls behind us hard enough to trigger a wave of curse words and lewd gestures. I was stuck there with Scarlett, looking like Band Floozy Number Five.

“Well, ” Scarlett said uneasily. “I’m sure he didn’t really mean that. ”

I hated that she felt sorry for me. It was even worse than feeling sorry for myself, but not by much. I turned my back to the booth‑ damned if I cared what happened over there now‑ and sat back on the stool, crossing my legs. “Whatever, ” I told her. “It’s not like I don’t know the deal about Dexter. ”

“Oh. Really? ”

I picked up Chloe’s straw, twisting it between my fingers. “Just between you and me, ” I said, “it’s kind of why I picked him in the first place. I mean, I’m off to school in the fall. I can’t have any big commitments. That’s why it’s perfect, you know. A set ending. No complications. ”

“Right, ” she said, steadying herself as a stray elbow bumped her from behind.

“I mean, God. All relationships should be this easy, you know? Find a cute guy in June, have fun till August, leave scot‑ free in September. ” This was so easy to say, I realized, that it had to be the truth. Wasn’t this always what I’d said about Jonathan, and any other of my seasonal boyfriends? Of course this wasn’t different.

She nodded, but something in her face told me she wasn’t the kind of girl to believe this, much less do it herself. But then again, she had a kid. It was different when other people were at stake. I mean, in normal families.

“Yep, ” I said, “just a summer boyfriend. No worries. No entanglements. Just the way I like it. I mean, it’s not like Dexter’s husband material or anything. He can’t even keep his shoes tied. ”

I laughed again. God, this was so true. So true. What had I been thinking?

We stood there for a second, in a silence that was not exactly awkward but not altogether comfortable either.

She looked at her watch, then behind me, into the crowd. She seemed surprised for a second, and I figured John Miller must have given her another one of his hold‑ on‑ honey‑ I’m‑ almost‑ done‑ here waves. “Look, ” she said, “I really have to go, or my sitter’s going to kill me. Can you tell John Miller I’ll see him tomorrow? ”

“Sure, ” I told her. “No problem. ”

“Thanks, Remy. Take care, okay? ”

“You too. ”

I watched her walk to the door, then cut out quickly just as John Miller turned his head, looking over at us again. Too late, I thought. I scared her off. Big, bad Remy, cold bitch, was back.

“Now, ” Jess said, appearing next to me, “it has got to be time to go. ”

“I’m in, ” Chloe said, plopping down beside me. “No decent prospects here. ”

“Lissa’s doing okay, ” Jess told her.

Chloe bent forward, peering down the bar. “That’s the first guy that spoke to her when she got here, so yes, we should go. If we don’t she’ll be engaged to him by last call. Lissa! ”

Lissa jumped. “Yes? ”

“We’re going! ” Chloe slid off the stool, pulling me with her. “There’s got to be something better to do tonight. Got to be. ”

“You guys, ” Lissa said as she came up, fluffing her hair, “I’m talking to somebody. ”

“He’s subpar, ” Chloe told her, glancing at him again. He waved and smiled, poor guy. “You can do better. ”

“But he’s nice, ” Lissa protested. “I’ve been talking to him all night. ”

“Exactly, ” Jess said. “You need a variety of guys, not just one. Right, Remy? ”

“Right, ” I agreed. “Let’s go already. ”

We were almost to the door when I saw Jonathan. He was standing by the jukebox, talking to the bouncer. I’d seen him from a distance a few times since we’d broken up, but this was the first official drive‑ by, so I slowed down.

“Hey Remy, ” he said as we passed, reaching out, in typical fashion, to brush my arm. Normally I would have sidestepped, out of range, but this time I didn’t. He didn’t look much different, his hair a bit shorter, his skin tan. Typical summer changes, all easily undone by September. “How’ve you been? ”

“Good, ” I said as Chloe and Lissa walked past me, out the door. Jess I could feel hovering closer by, as if I needed reminding not to waste too much breath here. “How about you? ”

“Freaking great, ” he said, smiling big, and I wondered what I’d ever seen in him, with his slick looks and touchy‑ feely ways. Talk about subpar. I’d been bottom fishing and hadn’t even known it. Not that Dexter was much of an improvement, apparently.

“Oh, Jonathan, ” I said, smiling at him and moving just a bit closer as two girls passed behind me. “You always were so modest. ”

He shrugged, touching my arm again. “I was always great too. Right? ”

“I wouldn’t say that, ” I told him, but I kept smiling. “I gotta go. ”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, ” he called after me, too loudly. “Where you gonna be later? You going to that party in the Arbors? ”

I reached over my head with my hand and waggled my fingers, then walked out into the thick, humid night air. Lissa had already pulled her car around, and she and Chloe were waiting, engine idling, as Jess and I came down the stairs.

“Classy, ” she said to me as we slid into the backseat.

“I was just talking, ” I told her, but she only turned her head, rolling down her window, and didn’t say anything.

Lissa put the car in gear and we were off. I knew Dexter would wonder where I’d gone, just like he’d probably wonder who I’d been talking to and, whoever he was, why I’d been smiling at him that way. Boys were so easy to play. And if nothing else, I gave as good as I got. He could cozy up with some chick all he wanted, but I’d be damned if I’d sit and wait while he did it.

“Where we going? ” Lissa asked, turning her head and glancing back at me.

“The Arbors, ” I said. “There’s a party there. ”

“Now we’re talking, ” Chloe said. She reached forward and cranked up the radio. And just like that, it could have been old times: the four of us, on the prowl. Earlier I’d been the odd girl out, Miss Committed, having to warm the bench while they set out into the game. But no more. And there was still so much of summer left.

We were almost out of the parking lot when I heard it. A voice, yelling after us. Chloe turned down the radio as I twisted in my seat, already wondering what I’d say when Dexter asked why I was leaving, what was the deal, how exactly I could refute that automatic assumption that this was just jealous girlfriend behavior. Which it wasn’t. Not at all.

The voice yelled again, just as I peered through the back window. But it wasn’t Dexter. It was the guy Lissa had been talking to. He called her name, looking confused as we pulled out into traffic and drove away.

It was after one when Lissa dropped me off at the end of my driveway. I took off my shoes and started across the grass, taking a sip of the Diet Zip I’d gotten on the way home from the party in the Arbors, which had turned out to be a total bust. By the time we’d gotten there the cops had already been and gone, so we’d headed to the Quik Zip to sit on the hood of Lissa’s car, talking and sharing a big bag of buttered popcorn. A good way to end what had been, for the most part, a crap night.

It was nice outside now, though. Warm, the crickets chirping, and the grass cool under my bare feet. There was a sky full of stars, and the whole neighborhood was quiet, except for a dog barking a few yards over and the soft clackety‑ clacking of my mother’s typewriter, drifting out of her study window, where the light, as was the norm lately, was bright and burning.

“Hey! ”

There was someone behind me. I felt my whole body tense, then run hot, as I turned around. My full Diet Zip left my hand before I even realized it, sailing through the air at warp speed toward the head of the person who was standing in the middle of the lawn. It would have hit square on, perfect target, except that he moved at the last second, and it flew past, crashing against the mailbox and bursting open, showering the curb with Diet Coke and ice.

“What is your problem? ” Dexter shouted.

“My problem? ” I snapped. I could feel my heart beating, thunk thunk thunk, in my chest. Who lurks around neighborhoods past midnight, sneaking up on people? “You scared the shit out of me. ”

“No. ” He walked up to me, shoes leaving a trail across the damp grass, until he was right in front of me. “At the club. When you just took off, no explanation? What was that all about, Remy? ”

I had to take a moment to collect myself. And mourn for my Diet Zip, which I had refilled just minutes earlier. “You were busy, ” I said, shrugging. “And I got tired of waiting. ”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at me for a second. “No, ” he said. “That’s not it. ”

I turned my back to him and dug out my keys, shaking them until I found the one that fit the front door. “It’s late, ” I said. “I’m tired. I’m going inside to go to bed. ”

“Was it the song? ” He stepped up even closer to me as I stuffed the key in the lock. “Is that why you freaked out and left? ”

“I did not freak out, ” I said flatly. “I just figured you had your hands full with that girl, and‑ ”

“Oh, God, ” he said. He stepped back, down the steps, and laughed. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous? ”

Okay. Those, as far as I was concerned, were fighting words. I turned around. “I don’t get jealous, ” I told him.

“Oh, right. So you’re not human, then. ”

I shrugged.

“Remy, for God’s sake. All I know is that one minute I’m telling you I’ll be done in a second and the next you just vanish, and the last I see is you talking to some old boyfriend about meeting him later. Which was kind of surprising, considering we’re seeing each other. Or so I thought. ”

There was so much erroneous information in this statement that it honestly took me a second to decide, outline style, what to address first. “You know, ” I said finally, “I waited around, Ted said you were deep in negotiations with this girl, my friends were ready to leave. So I left. ”

“Ted, ” he repeated. “What else did Ted say? ”

“Nothing. ”

He reached up and pulled his hand through his hair, then let his hand drop to his side. “Okay, then. I guess everything’s fine. ”

“Absolutely, ” I said and turned around again, turning the key in the lock.

And then, just as I was about to push the door open, he said, “I heard you, you know. ”

I stopped, pressing my palm against the wood of the door. I could see myself in the small square of glass there, and him reflected behind me. He was kicking at something in the grass with his toe, not looking at me.

“Heard me what? ” I said.

“Talking to Scarlett. ” Now he did look up, but I couldn’t turn around. “I wanted to tell you I’d be done in a minute and to wait, if you could. So I walked over, and I heard you. Talking about us. ”

So that had been what had surprised Scarlett. I reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“It’s nice to know where I stand, I guess, ” he said. “Summer boyfriend and all. Set ending. No worries. A bit surprising, I have to admit. But maybe I should just admire your honesty. ”

“Dexter, ” I said.

“No, it’s okay. My mother did always say I’d make a lousy husband, so it’s good to get a second opinion. Plus I like knowing you don’t see us going anywhere. Takes the guesswork out of it. ”

I turned around and looked at him. “What did you expect? That we’d stay together forever? ”

“Are those the only options? Nothing or forever? ” He lowered his voice. “God, Remy. Is that what you really believe? ”

Maybe, I thought. Maybe it is.

“Look, ” I told him, “honesty is good. I’m going away to college, you’ll be gone by the end of the summer, or maybe, after tonight, even sooner. Ted made it sound like you were leaving tomorrow. ”

“Ted is an idiot! ” he said. “Ted probably also told you I sleep with every girl we meet, didn’t he? ”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t‑ ”

“I knew it, ” he said. “I knew there was some Ted factor involved in this. The Ted curve. What did he say? ”

“It doesn’t matter. ”

He sighed, loudly. “A year ago I got involved with the girl who booked bands for this club in Virginia Beach. It ended badly and‑ ”

I held up my hand, stopping him. “I don’t care, ” I told him. “I don’t. Let’s not do the true confessions thing, okay? Believe me, you don’t want to hear mine. ”

He looked surprised at this, and for a second I realized he didn’t know me at all. Not at all.

“I do, though, ” he said, and his voice was softer now, conciliatory, as if all this was fixable in some way. “That’s the difference. I’m not in this just for a week, or a month, Remy. I don’t work like that. ”

A car drove by, slowing down as it passed. The guy behind the wheel was blatantly staring at us. It took all I had not to flip him the finger, but I resisted.

“What are you afraid of? ” he asked, coming closer. “Is it that bad that you might actually really like me? ”

“I’m not afraid, ” I said. “That’s not it. It’s just simpler this way. ”

“So you’re saying we should just decide now that this summer doesn’t mean anything? Just use each other and then when you go or I go it’s over, see you later? ”

It sounded so bad when he said it that way. “I have worked all my life to get out of here scot‑ free, ” I said. “I can’t take anything else with me. ”

“This doesn’t have to be a burden, ” he said. “Why do you want to make it one? ”

“Because I know how things end, Dexter. ” I lowered my voice. “I’ve seen what commitment leads to, and it isn’t pretty. Going in is the easy part. It’s the endings that suck. ”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? ” he said incredously. “My mother’s had six husbands. I’ve been related to half the country at one time or another. ”

“It’s not a joke. ” I shook my head. “This is how it has to be. I’m sorry. ”

For a minute neither of us said anything. After so many years of only thinking these things, saying them out loud felt so strange, as if now they were officially real. My cold, hard heart exposed, finally, for what it truly was. Fair warning, I thought. I should have told you from the start. I will let you down.

“I know why you’re saying this, ” he said finally, “but you’re missing out. You know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. It’s not overrated. There’s a reason for all those songs. ”

I looked down at my hands. “They’re just songs, Dexter. They don’t mean anything. ”

He walked over and stood right in front of me, taking my hands in his. “You know, we only sang that tonight because we were dying up there. Lucas heard me humming it the other day and got all inspired and came up with that arrangement. They don’t know it has anything to do with you. They just think it’s a good crowd pleaser. ”

“I guess it is, ” I said. “Just not for me. ”

I felt it then. That strange settling feeling that meant the worst part of breaking up was over, and now there were only a few pleasantries to exchange before you were done for good. It was like the finish line coming up over the hill, and knowing that what lies ahead is all within your sight.

“You know, ” he said, rubbing my thumb with his, “it could have gone either way with us. All those marriages and everything. Another day, you’d be the one who believed, and I’d be sending you away. ”

“Maybe, ” I replied. But I couldn’t even imagine believing in love the way he did. Not with the history we shared. You had to be crazy to come out of it and think forever was still possible.

He leaned forward, still holding my hand, and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes as he did so, pressing my toes into the grass. I took in everything about him that I’d grown to like: the smell of him, his narrow hips, the smoothness of his skin against mine. So much in so little time.

“I’ll see you around, ” he said, pulling back from me. “Okay? ”

I nodded. “Okay. ”

He squeezed my hand one last time, then let it drop and started across the grass. His feet left fresh tracks: the ones from earlier were gone, already absorbed, as if nothing had happened up to here.

Once inside I went up to my bedroom and got undressed, pulling on an old pair of boxers and a tank top and crawling under the sheets. I knew this feeling, the 2 A. M. loneliness that I’d practically invented. It was always worse right after a breakup. In those first few hours officially single again the world seems like it expands, suddenly bigger and more vast now that you have to get through it alone.

That was why I’d started listening to the song, in the beginning: it took my mind off things. It was the one constant in my life, however I felt about it, the one thing that had remained a part of me as stepfathers and boyfriends and houses shifted in and out. The recording never changed, the words staying the same, my father’s voice taking the same breaths between lines. But now I couldn’t even do that. It was now stuck in my mind the way Dexter had sung it: mocking and sweet and different, carrying a heavier and stranger weight than it ever had before.

I kept thinking about how he’d kissed my forehead as we said good‑ bye. It had to be the nicest breakup ever. Not that it made it any easier. But still.

I rolled over and pulled the pillow tight under my head, closing my eyes. I tried to distract myself with other songs: the Beatles, my current favorite CD, old 1980s hits from my childhood. But Dexter’s voice kept coming back, slipping easily over the words I knew too well. I fell asleep with it still playing in my mind, and the next thing I knew it was morning.