“Well, I’m … You know, this is not like me at all, but I actually called because of a dream I had last night. I dreamed that Chip had died. And I know of course that you’d call me if anything happened. But it was such a strong dream. He died and then he came over to see me and his father. He was just the same, only he was dead. He wanted to go to his room, he said he’d forgotten something.”

“He’s fine, Mrs. Reardon. He’s sleeping.”

“Is he?”

“I can wake him up if you’d like to talk to him.”

“No, that’s not necessary. But would you mind … Oh Myra, I know this is silly, but would you please just make sure he’s sleeping?”

“Of course. Hold on.”

I go upstairs with a chill centered at the base of my spine and starting a slow climb up. What if she’s right? I open the bedroom door. He lifts his head, blinks sleepily at me. “Hi.”

“Hi. Your mother’s on the phone. Want to talk?”

He picks up the extension, says, “Ma?” and I close the door. Then I go downstairs to hang up the phone. I sit beside it, fussing with my bathrobe tie, telling myself that she’s better off not knowing.

• • •

Late in the afternoon, we are sitting under a tree on the beach, watching Frank play with a black Lab. Their energy seems boundless: for thirty minutes, they’ve been chasing each other in and out of the waves. Occasionally, one or the other will drop down for a few seconds’ rest; then they’re back at it.

The beach is crowded today: mothers watching their children; an older couple sitting in beach chairs, reading the newspaper and sharing coffee from a thermos; lots of young people, coupled or with groups of friends. High overhead, gulls circle lazily, watching for food. I lie back, close my eyes, and listen to the sound of the waves. Chip lies down beside me and takes my hand. “I want you to tell me something,” he says.

“What.”

“I want you to tell me what you’ll do on Saturday morning.”

I open my eyes, turn to look at him. “Nothing. I won’t do anything.”

“I want you to. I want you to think of some way you can be with someone.”

“All right. I will.”

“No, I want you to think of it now. Tell me who it will be.”

I feel my eyes start to fill. “I don’t want to do this. Let’s just be here, okay?”

“Please, Myra. It’s important to me.”