“Oh, Arthur!” It was a wail, a call to the dead. “Oh! Oh!” She burst into sobs that shook her body. She cried the way children do, a sound like a moan underneath the tears. I tried to put my arm around her, but she resisted. In her mind, I was part of what had killed Arthur. I went to the kitchen and made her some tea. When I returned, she had stopped crying. Her eyes were red; the remnants of her mascara were traced on her cheeks. She needed to talk now; so did I.

“How long were you lovers?” I asked. Despite her tears, I was still angry. I needed to know the details.

“A long time …” Her voice trailed off. “Years.”

“How did it happen? I don’t get it. He was so much older. He was married to another woman. He wasn’t really attractive. That’s the part that’s hardest for me. I thought I knew you.”

“Eric.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “You don’t understand. I loved Arthur. This wasn’t a mistake, something Arthur made me do. I loved him. I’m devastated. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”

I suppose that was the one answer I hadn’t expected. It put me in another place. What was the point of feeling jealous?

As Annie sipped the tea, she explained the story of their love affair, delicately at first, then bluntly. It had begun ten years before, not long after I had left for Beirut and she had moved to Washington. Bowman was the dashing war correspondent back from his adventures. He was already married to Mara; after he met Annie he had wanted to get a divorce but Annie hadn’t let him. She was just starting her career, and she didn’t want to marry anyone. She was a young climber, and he was Mount Everest. “I just wanted to sleep with him,” she said. “That was why it lasted so long. Arthur stopped playing his act when we made love. He was just there, with me.”

“But he was so old,” I said.

“I know. It’s strange. It’s just, he knew things; he taught me things. He already was what you were trying to become. I didn’t threaten him. He just wanted me to be myself. I don’t know. We all want to be adored, and Arthur adored me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, a long time ago?”

“Because it was a secret. Have you ever had a real secret, Eric? Probably not. You’re so normal. The all-American tennis star. You’ve probably never had an awful secret in your life.”

“Yes, I have.” I said it so quietly, I’m not sure she even heard me.