And then they didn’t talk anymore.

They just thought.

And eventually Michelle turned left onto the Road to Nowhere.

And they passed the observatory at Skyview Park.

And then East’s house.

And then St. Mary’s.

And then Ma Dudley’s.

And then the Moose Paddy.

And Echo Lake.

And, at about 8 p.m., they pulled into Aunt Belinda’s driveway.

And Michelle figured Justin would get out of the car. And they’d never see each other again. Which is exactly what had happened the last time they saw each other, on the night they graduated. Michelle had come over to say goodbye. And they went tooling around one last time. And Michelle told Justin that she didn’t know what she was going to do without him—and that she loved him. And Justin told her to take him home. And she did. And Justin got out of the car and went in his house. And Michelle never saw him—or even heard from him again. Until the Friday night when all the extraordinary things did or didn’t happen.

But this time, Justin didn’t get out of the car.

He just sat there.

And Michelle thought he was going to say something.

But he didn’t.

So Michelle said something.

“You know, you’re just like everybody else,” she scolded. “You wanna think you’re not. But you are.”

If only she knew how untrue that was.

“’Cause everybody else is gonna tell me I should be sad about this. Like you just did.”

“I didn’t say that you should be sad about it,” muttered Justin.

“You said, ‘Don’t you have things you wanna do with your life?’ Which doesn’t make me think you’re too happy about it. But I am. I’m happy I’m gonna have a baby.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

And then Michelle said, “And, you know, just because you’re sad doesn’t mean everybody else has to be, you know. And just because you don’t need love doesn’t mean other people don’t.”

Justin didn’t say anything and just listened. And stared straight ahead of him. For a while.

And then finally said, “I don’t know if … I can be a godfather.”

“Sure you can!”

And then Michelle felt like Justin was crying even though he didn’t look like it.

“No. I can’t. I have too much I gotta figure out.”

“Who doesn’t?” retorted Michelle.

“No—I have more. To figure out. ’Cause…” And he emitted a deep, single, heaving, moaning sob that sounded like a couple of decades of untold pain.

“Hey—what’s wrong?” asked Michelle. The sound Justin had made seemed like it came from a place inside him that was farther away than the outer reaches of the universe. And he almost started crying—but didn’t. And pulled himself together. And became his stoic self again. And calmly said, “I don’t think I’m a him.”

“Huh?” Michelle had heard Justin. But didn’t quite understand what he had said.

“I don’t think I’m a—”

“Oh,” interrupted Michelle, understanding what Justin was saying.

“—him,” he finished.