Elaine and Charlie had two married daughters, who lived nearby, one in Newton, the other in Brookline; and my nieces, their husbands, and their children met us in Boston for seafood at McCormick & Schmick’s. My sister’s family was a raucous bunch, and the dinner would’ve been quite a party except that Charlie’s light blue eyes were so full of pain. My brother-in-law, a former Boston College point guard, who had retained some of his boyish handsomeness and all of his curly, silver-blond hair, was close to Alex. In one of my son’s nascent acts of rebellion, he’d spurned my favorite team, the Knicks, in favor of the Celtics, and because Charlie had season tickets to the Celts and his daughters weren’t interested in basketball, I’d send Alex up to Belmont four or five times a year to go to the games with his uncle, a tradition that had been rekindled once Alex had come back East from Berkeley. Charlie didn’t mention Alex, but as soon as the maître d’ seated us, he draped his arm over me and said, “Elaine’s driving home,” and then he ordered us the first of too many vodka martinis.

OVER THE next three days, Elaine led us on a forced march through the cultural and historical delights of Boston, with side excursions to fortify ourselves at pubs and chowder houses, and to take advantage of the postholiday sales in stores whose opulence would have shamed the Puritan founders of the city. While shopping on the second afternoon, Glenna and I caught a break. Elaine went into Ralph Lauren with Charlie to look at suits, which gave us a chance to enjoy Newbury Street at a more humane pace.

Glenna said, “I like your sister and her family.”

“They’re a lot of fun.”

Glenna took my arm. “I like this, too. Just being with you. It feels almost normal.”

“Normal?”

“Like we’re—a couple?”

I smiled at her. She had a point, though I was unclear how I felt about it. I was constantly worried about Alex, but pondering what might lie ahead for Glenna and me was no comfort. Why would it be different this time? Because I had enough money? Because Glenna was a doctor? Because most of the decisions about how to live our lives had already been made? For so long, I was sure that the reason our relationship had ended was a matter of faulty timing—a collision of reality and dreams. I was less sure now and seemed incapable of conjuring up a picture of our future together. All I knew was that even if I didn’t lose Alex, I couldn’t bear to lose Glenna again.

“Gordie! Glenna!”

We turned around. Elaine was standing outside of Ralph Lauren with Charlie, waving for us to head back down the street.

I said, “My sister’s very energetic.”

“She’s trying to distract you.”

“She did the same thing when I came to see her after we broke up. Only now she has more money and refuses to let me pay for dinner.”