“Things seem possible, now,” continued Wallis, back in proper flying position and evidently satisfied with her view, “in the way they didn’t before. He won’t need to run her office. When she’s confirmed to the cabinet, she won’t be up for reelection. That is potentially life-changing.” Wallis rubbed her hands together. “It’s the maneuverings of the universe.”

“Bo has been so generous to invite us to his parents’ house,” I cautioned. I wanted to temper her expectations; I hadn’t forgotten Melinda Darley’s proprietary words in the graveyard weeks ago. “Bo’s mother, by the way, is a former Freedom Rider, lawyer, and current judge on the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals. His father was the first African American to chair the State Board of Education and is currently a professor at The Citadel.”

“Bo is such a gem, I’m not surprised his parents are also amazing,” said Wallis, before putting the buds of her headphones in her ears. “I just downloaded the album of this great Charleston band. Blake told me about them. They’re, like, Southern and rock and soul.”

I wanted to remove the wires from her grasp, the way a parent pries sharp scissors out of a child’s hand, to make sure she heard me. “We have to be on our best behavior.”

“Always.” This, and a smile, was all she gave me.

We had an on-time departure, maybe a little early. There was a hard shudder after takeoff, but I fixed my eyes on the scenery below, begging the plane to right itself, the pill I had taken to work. We flew over the low buildings of Old Town Alexandria, the Wilson Bridge and its tangle of off-ramps, the cherry-red roof of Mount Vernon, and into the clouds. The flight attendant made the rounds at cruising altitude. Would we like to buy a sandwich or a drink? My last paycheck had come last week. It was meager, just covering the few days in the cycle before Miles had put me on leave. Until I was back at work, I would get nothing, which meant no special snacks. “No, thank you,” I told the flight attendant. “But I will take those free pretzels.”

I practiced deep breathing and affirmation mantras. You’re safe. You’re safe. I used Wallis’s jacket as a blanket, and watched the clouds below. Maybe it was the pill, the hum of the plane, or the sounds of pressurized air, but I sank into that place between sleep and wakefulness. I thought—dreamed?—of Atlas in Cricket’s kitchen, his hair beautiful and mussed, his voice deep and assuring, his eyes, blue, fixed on me. Had there been signs of what he’d been hiding about Ari’s return?