As they walked, Ayanna was aware that despite the circumstances, she felt lighter. Feeling this way was complicated. Here there was people watching, there were beautiful gardens, the pleasure of noticing a raptor soaring up in the air and of pointing to it and hearing her best friend say, “Well, who does he think he is? Being that majestic at someone else’s funeral.” Simultaneously, there was Ayanna’s irrational fear that her brain was addicted to getting depressed. She was willing to feel disconnected and slow because of how much pleasure she felt on days like this, when everything felt sudden and clear. Days when she was able to think and feel, oh, I’m happy in this moment, which was so monumental and like a gift in contrast to the hours of alienation and exhaustion that preceded them. Ayanna knew intellectually that depression did not work in that particular way but it was hard, even on good days, not to implicitly distrust and blame herself.

Another display was of Mr. Butler’s love of Manchester United. Signed kits he had collected over the years, a replica of the seats he had somehow gotten season tickets for over the years, a picture of him shaking hands with what looked like a mildly bored Wayne Rooney. A note on personalized stationery from Sir Alex Ferguson that seemed impossible to read. Manchester United scarves from the nineties in exquisite condition behind glass.

Ayanna shrugged at it. “Cool.”

Jane pursed her lips. “The man is dead. You don’t have to keep fighting with him about soccer.”

“It’s wild to me that someone could have such pristine taste in art and have such embarrassing taste in football clubs.” Ayanna raised her eyebrows. “People are complex and irrational beings.”

“You are American. Call it ‘soccer.’ ”

They walked away from the display, Jane stopping to stretch a little and then to lean over and murmur to the baby.

“How often do you talk to it?” Ayanna said. “Also, I didn’t mean that in a judgy way.”

“Oh, on and off through the day. It helps me feel less self-conscious. I know it doesn’t really know anything or see anything, but it’s also my kid in there. I already want to tell it what’s going on.”

“That’s sweet,” Ayanna said.

“Are you sure you’re not going to find out the sex?” Ayanna asked after a brief pause.

“It is perfect for right now.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Everyone looks great in blue. Buy some onesies and don’t worry about it.”