“Is that what you think now?”

I was vibrating with rage and bewildered by my ability to hold on to anger and pain. “You bet.”

“And what were you thinking back then? That Robin wouldn’t tell me my boyfriend made it with her? And that what? I’d stay with you anyway?”

“I didn’t think you cared enough for it to bother you.”

“That was your problem, wasn’t it? And guess when Robin filled me in? At her wedding. Right after the ceremony. Made me buy a ridiculous lime-chiffon, fairy-godmother, maid-of-honor dress and then took me over by an ice statue of David pissing whiskey sours into a punch bowl.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what? That Robin waited so long to tell me?”

“I—”

“You know what she said, Gordon? That she was just bringing some reality to the situation. That I didn’t really want to be with you. That it was better if we found out sooner rather than later.”

“Was Robin wrong?” I asked.

“I was having a hard time. With our relationship, with Palmer’s clinic, with myself. And so you and my friend decide to help me out by—”

“Glenna, I’m—”

“Can we stop talking about it now? Can’t it be over with now?”

“We can stop talking about it,” I said.

Kneeling down, Glenna took an album from the cubby below the turntable—the Beatles’ Revolver. Old album. Long-ago album. “Gordo, go get your bourbon. I’ll put some music on.”

I was a block past the liquor store when I spotted Hildegard at the curb. She was outlined in the aura of a streetlamp and scanning Eighth Avenue for a cab. She must have seen me out of the corner of her eye, for as I approached, she spun around and stepped boldly in front of me, saying, “You must explain why does my Glenna hurt people like this? It is not something I can very much understand.”

“Me either. But I don’t think she means to.”

I had to steady the Bic in her hand for her to fire up a Marlboro. She offered me a cigarette. I could almost feel the soothing blast of the smoke in my lungs, but my willpower held, and I told her that I’d quit.

“This is very smart.” She took a deep drag off the Marlboro and exhaled a stream of smoke. “You being so smart. What shall we do about our Glenna?”

“We could have a duel.”

“A silliness for men only.” Hildegard smiled at me, a pained smile, both hopeful and resigned.

Earlier that evening, as I rode the elevator down to meet Glenna, I’d thought of nothing but holding her again. Now, with her waiting for me in her apartment, ready to climb into bed, all I could think about was how much I wanted her to love me, not for a night but forever. That wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever.

I said, “Go home, Hildi. Maybe things’ll work out.”

“Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced, and I couldn’t blame her.