I wondered where he’d come from, pictured those possible cities and towns. Throughout the day, I scanned Clara Day Street for a glimpse of him. A distraction. I imagined running into him on a dark street—maybe in the rain—sharing an umbrella, talking all night. Eventually, unable to part with me, he’d ask me to come back to whatever city he came from: long streets, tall buildings, buses and taxis and brick and bridge. What’s more important than this love? he might say. Only that was the wrong question, because the answer was: the other love, the first love. That’s what’s more important. Family. Brothers. The living and dead. Lucas. Baby B.

What was wrong with me? I was hopeless. I couldn’t even fuck a stranger in my imagination without first thinking about my family obligations.

That night Lucas brought home a bucket of clams, and we prepared them with corn on the cob. Our feasts were simple and transcendent. “Lucas,” I said, looking up, butter and lemon sauce on my fingers. “What would you do if I were to go away someday—I’m just asking hypothetically here.”

“Like on a trip?” he said.

“Yes. A trip.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Same thing I do now, I guess. Plus wait for you to come home.”

“You might be pretty lonely.”

“I’d survive.”

“How would you, I don’t know, shop for food?”

“You could shop before you left.”

“Right but—” I didn’t know what I was hoping he’d say. “What if you got a roommate or something. Someone to stay here—while I was away—to shop, and keep you company.”

Lucas laughed. “I don’t want a roommate, thank you. I’d be fine on my own. It’s not like you’ve never gone away.”

“That was different. Mom was here.”

“If you want to go on a trip, go ahead,” Lucas said, suddenly uneasy.

“I don’t want to go on a trip,” I said. “I told you, it was just hypothetical. You know what I will do, though? Go out for a drink.”

Lucas shrugged. “Fine with me. Have all the drinks you want.”

We cleared the dishes in silence, stacked them in the sink. The night hadn’t gone at all as I’d planned. I had wanted to feel that old sense of connection with Lucas, but now I felt more alone than ever, and maybe Lucas did, too. I left through the kitchen door, headed for the beach. It was already dark, and the slapping of the water was amplified—little crashes over and over. I followed the noise down to the dock. But it was only the rowboat, nudging against the pilings as the water got choppy in the wind.