Love, friendship, affection—all the old familial, familiar devils reared their heads. A sword dangled somewhere. But before it crept any closer the three of us were walking quickly away from the apartment building, running almost, yes, I was practically jogging as I herded them through the city’s camouflaged exit door and out onto the grass of the open field, toward their vehicles, which they had parked earlier that day near the main house. “But what about—” Brenda puffed as she led the way, having a little trouble trotting gracefully in her business-formal heels. “What about the details, the schedules, all the checklists and—”

“It will be fine! You leave it to me!” I was yelling then. “DID YOU SEND ME COPIES OF ALL THE CHECKLISTS?” I bellowed, and she gasped out, “Y-yes,” as if she were on her last lung, and a little afraid, maybe, and then we were at their cars and they each scrambled into them, and as they started their engines they both looked at me like I was quite insane, which maybe I was at the time, but I didn’t care, not one bit, all I wanted to do was to get back into that building and start living my lives.

Ray wound down his window and motioned for me to come closer, momentarily breaking the spell. I went toward him. He said, “There was something else—I had a surprise for you.” I didn’t reply other than to smile urgently. “It’s in Apartment 205. It’s really important you unlock 205.” I nodded hard and said “Okay! Okay!” over and over.

“Bonnie,” he said, “it’s really important you check on Apartment 205.” And as he said this he actually reached out of the window and touched my arm, and I was astonished, not only at his touch but at the use of my name, which I had not heard anyone speak for a long time.

I jerked away and stood back. I said, “Okay! Apartment 205! I’ll check it!” He didn’t say anything after that, just solemnly rolled up his window again, staring at me, and put his car in gear. I could hear Brenda’s car idling and shifting into gear, too. She’d been waiting for him to leave first, probably worried about leaving him alone with me.

But as soon as I was assured their exit was imminent, the threat ebbing away, I suddenly felt large and fanciful, full of gregarious jollity, the kind of feeling a host gets at the end of a long, complicated party when the last guest is leaving and seems, in that moment, like the dearest, most wonderful friend in the world, and whose soon-to-be-gone presence reminds the host that they’re all human, and in this soup together, battling this fleeting timeline as one, and the thanks and smiles and sentimental goodbyes are laid on extra thick, all because freedom is in sight. As they pulled away I said, “Thank you! Have a great trip! Thank you for all you’ve done!” and I waved at them, my whole arm getting in on the action.