And, as she walked, she wondered if she’d ever get to listen to those songs again. Because she probably wouldn’t be going over to Pete’s anymore, now that they weren’t together.

And she wondered how they had gone so quickly from being together to being so far apart.

And then she stopped wondering, because she knew why.

It was because of Pete—and his stupid theory on what it means to be close. Why the heck did he have to say that she wasn’t really close to him—and that she was actually about as far away from him as she could possibly be—when she was leaning right up against him?

She was confounded.

And hurt.

And when people get confounded and hurt, their faces look like what Ginette’s face looked like as she made her way home on the Road to Nowhere.

It was 8 p.m. when Ginette reached Ma Dudley’s, an old farmhouse that was about a quarter of a mile down—and across—the road from St. Mary’s. Ma and her husband of fifty-seven years, Sunny, had converted the farmhouse into a boardinghouse decades ago, and they rented seven rooms for daily, weekly, or monthly rates.

As Ginette walked past the boardinghouse, she saw Ma and Sunny dancing together in the living room through the big picture window. And she couldn’t help but stop and watch them as they swayed back and forth in a warm yellow light to some music that seemed like it was bouncy—but gentle.

Marvalyn LaJoy was watching the old couple, too, from inside. She had just come downstairs from her room on the third floor and was on her way to the laundry room in the basement to switch her clothes from the washers to the dryers. And, as she passed the living room, she saw Ma and Sunny dancing to some gentle old-time big-band music.

And she stopped and watched the sweet sight.

And she wished that she and her boyfriend, Eric, danced together like Ma and Sunny.

But they didn’t.

And when Ma and Sunny kissed, she tried to look away, because it’s creepy to watch people kiss when they think they’re alone.

But she couldn’t look away. And she wondered if she and Eric would kiss like that when they were old.

They hadn’t kissed like that in a while.

Maybe they would again someday—when their circumstances improved.

“Oh!” Sunny had caught sight of Marvalyn standing in the doorway and was surprised to learn that what he thought was a private moment wasn’t actually private.

“Hi, Mr. Dudley!” Marvalyn smiled, embarrassed that she had been caught staring.

“Huh? Oh!” said Ma simultaneously, turning and seeing Marvalyn and pulling away from her husband.

“Sorry!” chirped Marvalyn. “Hi, Ma! Sorry!”

“Hi, Marvalyn,” Ma mumbled coldly. She was not very happy that such a tender moment had been observed—and interrupted.

“Didn’t see you there!” Sunny said, smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah—sorry—I was just—I’ve got some laundry in, and I’ve gotta check on it. You two look so good together, dancin’!”