“Hey, Plum.”

“Hey, you.”

My body flushed warm with relief. “You okay?” I asked.

She let out a tiny hiccup and squeaked, “Not really.” She paused. “Were you asleep? Your voice is all sleepy-deep.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I just sort of dozed off a few minutes ago.”

She started to apologize but I stopped her. “No, no, I’m glad you called.”

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” she admitted, her voice a little muffled, as if she was lying on her side. “I miss you and I hate that we’re fighting.”

I fell back against the pillow, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. I was a dick earlier.”

“You weren’t, though... You were right.”

I nodded behind my hand. I was right, and I knew that, but I could have been gentler. Because Hanna was self-possessed in so many ways, it was easy for me to forget that she was only twenty-five and on the cusp of choosing which prestigious university to join, in a faculty role. Talking to Jensen today helped remind me that Hanna had blown through college in three years, graduate school in another three, and then had a post-doctoral fellowship that was only a year—she was still learning how to manage career choices that many of us didn’t have to worry about until much later.

“So how was the rest of your day?” I asked my wife.

I settled back into bed as she took a deep breath and launched into a detailed description of her interview: what she was asked during her job talk, the meetings with other faculty members afterward, and, later, dinner with the chair of the department at a small but apparently amazing sushi restaurant in San Francisco.

She talked about what they ate, the mild gossip they shared, and the strange small-world coincidences sprinkled throughout the day, which, frankly, were prevalent in research circles.

The entire time she gushed about it, I listened, trying to imagine us there.

I tried to imagine living there.

Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, I could see a transition to the Bay Area. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to move to California. I liked our seasons. I liked our urban cluster. I didn’t want to have to drive everywhere.

I didn’t really want to leave the East Coast, and it wasn’t until this moment that I knew I felt strongly.

Fuck.

“But, I don’t know,” she said, rousing me from my thoughts. “I can’t imagine us here.” She paused and I briefly wondered if I’d accidentally said any of that out loud. “I can’t imagine you here,” she added.