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"Oh, you’re a doctor That explains it My name is Lois Swan I’ht here yesterday afternoon, a woman named Elizabeth Lear Do you know her?"

My heart lurched into my throat "Where is she? What happened?"

"She was taken off an Aht here by a to reach you Are you her physician?"

The nature of the call was becoht," I lied "What’s her condition?"

"I’m afraid that Mrs Lear has passed away"

I didn’t say anything The roo Not just the room, the world

"Hello?"

I made an effort to s "Yes, I’ht her in I was alone with her when she woke up She gave e?"

"I’m sorry, no She was very weak I wasn’t even sure I heard the nuht She died just a few minutes later We tried to reach her husband, but apparently he’s overseas Is there anybody else we should notify?"

I hung up I placed a pillow over an to screairl’s death was plastered on the front pages of the tabloids for several days, and in this manner I learned e Park, Maryland, the daughter of Iranian iineer, her s For six years she had worked at Beckworth and Gri to the rank of associate editor; she and the baby’s father, an actor, were recently divorced Everything about her was ordinary and adhter and doting mother For a time, she had wanted to be a dancer There were many photos of her In one, she was just a child herself, wearing a leotard and perforirl plié

Two days later I received a call fro the news of Liz’s death I did my best to act surprised and discovered that I actually was a little, as if, hearing his broken voice, I were experiencing the loss of her for the first ti stories of the past Fro funny she had done or said; at others, the phone went silent for long intervals in which I heard hi I listened to the spaces in the conversation for any indication that he’d known, or suspected, about the two of us But I detected nothing It was just as Liz had said: his blindness was total He couldn’t even ihtly a had happened tobeyond the chain, displaying their badges Dr Fanning, mind if we have a ith you? None of the stories ood sign, though eventually, I believed, the laould co My penance would be extracted; I would fall to my knees and confess The universe could simply make no sense otherwise

I took a shuttle to Boston for the funeral The cereht of Harvard Yard The church was packed Faues, former students; in her too-short years, Liz had beento be invisible I knewthe mourners was a man whom, beneath his puffy alcoholic’s face, I knew to be Alcott Spence Our eyes h I do not think he remembered who I was

After the burial, the inner circle repaired to the Spee Club for a catered lunch I had told Jonas that I needed to return early and couldn’t make it, but he insisted so ardently that I had little choice There were toasts, re Every second was torture As people were leaving, Jonas pulledI need to talk to you about"

So here it was, I thought The whole h the library and sat on the steps that led down to the courtyard The day was unusually war I believed I would not see Surely I would be living in a cell by then

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and re pull and passed it to me

"Old times," he said

I didn’t kno to respond The conversation was his to steer

"You don’t have to say it I know I fucked up I should have been there That "