We ate lunch at a McDonald’s, which showed we were at the bottom of our spirits. Our parents had fed us from the fast-food place so often when we were little that we could hardly bear the smell of one now. When my mother had been married to my father, and we’d had the nice home in Memphis, we had a maid I’d been fond of. Her name was Marilyn Coachman. She was a stern black woman, you didn’t back talk her, and when she told you to do something, you did it. The minute she’d realized my mother was using drugs, Marilyn quit. I wondered where Marilyn was now.

I looked down at the French fries in their grease-marked cardboard sleeve and shoved them away. She was a great cook.

“We need vegetables,” I said.

Tolliver said, “Potatoes are a vegetable. And ketchup is made from tomatoes. I know technically they’re a fruit, but I always think of them as vegetables.”

“Very funny. I mean it. You know I have to avoid this shit. We need a place where we can live. I’ll learn to cook.”

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“You want to buy a house.”

“We’ve talked about it before.”

“But I didn’t . . . You were serious, huh?”

“Yes.” I was deeply hurt. “I guess you weren’t.”

He put down his Big Mac. He wiped his fingers on the paper napkin. A very young mother went by, carrying one child on her hip. The other hand held a tray full of food and drinks. A boy, maybe five, followed close on her heels. She put the tray down on a nearby table and began getting the children into their places and sorting out the food. She looked harried. Her bra strap kept falling down her arm; both her arms were bare. She was wearing a sleeveless tank top despite the chilly day.

Tolliver was giving me all his attention, now. “You’re still thinking Dallas?”

“Or thereabouts. We could find a nice small house, maybe in Longview or even closer to Dallas, to the north. That’d be more central than the Atlanta area, which was the other place we’d discussed.”

His dark eyes searched mine. “Dallas is close to Mariella and Grace.”

“Maybe they won’t always feel the same.”

“Maybe they will. There’s no point banging our heads against that wall.”

“Someday they’ll change.”