All of this was moot, however, because the longer I paused in mid-chop, the more I pondered whether the knock sounded like the dog’s rough pawing or like a hard, knuckled rap.

It came again.

I hadn’t heard the sound in real life in a long time, and hearing it clearly, a second time, felt like a hand reaching out and tearing away a body-sized scab. In a moment I was no longer Jack, but Bonnie. Small, weakling Bonnie. The speed of it was bewildering.

Setting down the knife, I made my way to the front door. For a brief moment I reverted to Jack Tripper and excitement spiked through me. Answering the door! Like in the show! People were always knocking and answering doors in the show. But when I placed my hand on the doorknob I paused. My old self rose up again and I jerked my hand away.

The knock came once more, more insistent. Then a wheedling voice: “Miss Lincoln? Miss Lincoln! Hello? Miss Lincoln, this is Bernie. The delivery guy? Are you in there?”

The delivery boy. The first one I hired.

My anger pitched forward. I remembered his rabbity little face, his odd tics, that way he compulsively rubbed and smelled his own nostril creases.

How dare he come in here and try to ruin things. He signed a contract.

“What do you want?” I barked. I was not opening that goddamned door. My skin flashed hot and my armpits prickled. I understood I was afraid. “Go away, Bernie! Go away.” I licked my lips, my mouth dry. The quiet stretched forever, and for a moment I really believed he had walked away, had never even been there. If he leaves now, I can pretend nothing happened.

Another knock.

I was shattered.

“You promised you would stay away!” I shouted. “You promised! You signed a contract!”

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door. When he spoke again his voice was agitated, hurried. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t be here but I came to warn you.”

“What?” I said. “What?”

“A big storm,” he said through the door, his distress increasing as he spoke. “It’s all over the news, but I didn’t know if you’d seen it so I wanted to tell you. They say it’s headed this way. They’re warning people to get prepared, just in case.” He paused again. “Listen, I gotta go, I’m gonna leave, and there may not be any deliveries for a while if trees are down on the road. So no deliveries for a while,” he repeated.

My heart thumped and flop sweat was rolling off me now. “So the fuck what, Bernie?” I finally said. My voice was tight. “A storm? They’re always saying that shit.”

I heard him let out some air. Screw this crazy bitch, I could hear him think. And his tone changed, too. “Okay, well, it’s not for sure, not one hundred percent, but they keep talking about it. It sounds serious this time. A superstorm, they’re calling it. Look, maybe you should get out, too. Or stay inside, whatever. I just thought you’d want to know, and I didn’t want to leave a note in case . . .”