Afterward, back on the shore, they found the shaker and sat in the sand. The stars swirled lightly overhead. She pointed out Cassiopeia. She told him that birds could navigate by certain constellations, that the young learned “sky maps” by watching stars rotate around the North Pole. He told her about the stars over Kurdistan, the brightest he’d ever seen. She took a sip from the tumbler. The ice had melted, and the drink tasted pretty awful by now.

I think I need some water, Ana said.

No more, Pars pleaded.

Fresh water, she said. A drink.

She stood and brushed sand off her elbows and held a hand out to him.

They wandered back up the steps. The dog followed them to her cottage and lay down outside on the deck. Ana found a towel. There was sand inside her jeans. Pars was hesitant to enter.

I don’t want to ruin the carpet, he said.

Oh, come on, it’s just sand.

When he went to reach for the lamp, she shouted: Don’t!

Sorry.

I can’t take the lights.

Okay, he said. No lights.

Thank you.

She left her sandals by the door and poured two large glasses of water and handed him one and they drank.

She felt light-headed from the gin, the late hour, the salt water. The sand was cold on her feet. She took the clip from the back of her head and shook her hair loose.

I’ll be right back, she announced. There’re some crackers or something in the cabinet, if you want.

I’m fine, Pars said.

She went into the bathroom and changed out of her jeans into the only other thing she’d brought, a long print dress.

When she came back out, Pars was sitting on the edge of the couch. She settled beside him. They didn’t speak for a long time. Pars finally put down his glass and sighed.

I should go, he said. It’s late.

Without thinking, Ana lifted her hand to the left side of his neck and pressed her fingers into the tight tendon she’d seen earlier.

What’s this? she asked.

I don’t know. He groaned. It’s very painful.

No kidding.

She pressed into the tissue, and he let out a little yelp.

Relax, she whispered.

He turned away and closed his eyes. She closed hers too. Russell had good hands. He’d taught her about the muscles, each one labeled with its own Latin.

She ran her thumb down Pars’s jugular.

God that hurts, he moaned.

It’s the Terrible Triangle, she explained—all this vascular stuff.

She pressed her thumb into the hollow above his collarbone.

How do you know this? he murmured.

Anatomy classes, she said.

Right.

Shhh, she whispered.

He grunted, removed his glasses, and closed his eyes.

The deck door lay open. The sea breeze nosed inside. Ana could hear chimes somewhere in the night.