We stopped at a buvette for lunch, one of those little places by the lake where the boats are all arranged in front, tied to the dock like swans with ropes around their necks. We ordered tall glasses of fresh orange juice with ginger and E went to go play in the grass, though really she just twisted the leaves off some bushes and whispered to her giraffe. Really mostly she just looked at me. I tried to smile in the right way but it was so unclear what she had seen in the fire that I was unsure how to act around her. I waved and M waved too.

We have to give her time, M said and I said yes, that was it. The juice was fresh and bright and every bit as good as it should have been. We ate egg and cucumber sandwiches that were made by the smiling bearded man who worked behind the counter. The sun felt like a gift on our shoulders. B tried a bit of egg, just a tiny smush. He smiled when it touched his lips. It was the first time that he’d had it, egg, and I thought that yes, of course, this is happiness, day after day of smushed eggs. Mornings and afternoons with all of us inside it. Juice and sandwiches. I want you to see that I wanted them all so badly, all those perfect days.

I left B with M and walked back to the counter and ordered espressos, two doubles. When they came to our table they were perfect. I smiled and M did too and our eyes got tangled up together and I saw ourselves when we used to drink stale diner coffee with so much sugar in it that it stung our tongues. How once we drove all night to get to one particular beach by sunrise. How we got to the beach just in time but fell asleep, nestling in the dirt beside the parking lot, holding hands. How we missed it all, and, of course, didn’t miss a thing. I’m telling you this because I want you to see me there, sleeping by the car as the sun comes up. I want you to see me cooking salmon that was pink inside like kisses. I want you to understand that. I’m asking you to.

We said thank you to the man and drank the espressos which were excellent and exactly what we needed. We could have been anywhere, there beside a lake, coffee cups empty but still warm in our hands. M reached over the table and took my hand and yes, afternoons could happen this way. I could see it. For another hundred years. Dark coffee, white boats, blue lake. The sun would shine on our shoulders if we let it, it really would. If I believed this enough it would be true.

The new house will be perfect, M said. You will love it. You can see the boats on the lake from our bedroom.