About ten minutes before curtain, two men came in and sat down in front of me, one a handsome Southeast Asian man in a thick wool sweater I immediately wanted to steal, the other a white man in a brightly patterned green shirt. They flipped through their programs excitedly, looked around the theater. The white man had sandy hair and a kind of jumbled, cubist nose that looked like it had been broken many times, and now gave his face character and warmth.

“Are we meeting him after?” said the man with the gorgeous sweater.

“I hope so,” said the other. He spoke with a British accent.

His shirt—which I had taken for an abstract design—was actually frogs, their bodies stretched out end to end.

Before I even knew what I was doing—before I could think it through, and I tried to think things through these days—I’d tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t seem upset that I’d bothered him; on the contrary, he looked a little amused.

“I’m sorry, but are you Andrew’s uncle?” I said.

“I am,” he said. He turned to get a better look at me and smiled. His eyes were a sort of piercing green blue of the Lovesick Falls spring, and they gave the whole of him a magical quality, like maybe I was talking to an apparition—a sprite, or a faerie, spelled the British way, like Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, which I’d just had to read. In that way, he reminded me of Ros.

“I’m Celia,” I said. “Gilbert. I um—I stayed in your cabin a couple summers ago. I’m the one—the one who—well. I broke your window. Sir.”

“Oh, Celia, yes!” he said, and turned excitedly to his husband. “Vish—Vish—this is the girl who broke the window at the Playhouse!”

Vish seemed nowhere near as charmed by this revelation as Henry did.

“I’m still so sorry,” I said.

Henry waved a hand at me.

“Please. It’s been grand, actually. It’s a little bigger. Better insulation. A shower that actually works. All sorts of room.”

“I loved it there,” I said. “Even… before.”

“It’s a special place,” Henry said. “You’ll have to come see it.”

“Board up the windows first,” quipped Vish, mostly to Henry. “And hide the plants.”

“I’m so glad you and Andrew have each other in this city. It’s a big place to know no one. There was a third of you, wasn’t there?”

He looked around, as though they might be in the theater. Sometimes I caught myself doing the same thing: searching for them out of the corner of my eye.

“Ros,” I said. “They’re still in Lovesick, actually.”