“Don’t be sorry. I asked you to tell me.” But I had only said that because a part of me refused to let myself believe, in what she said she could do and see. I hadn’t been ready, truly ready, to look straight at either of these things: that memory of the hospital room, or the feeling like I had just been shoved into a new reality. That Clara had a talent that defied logic, a talent I couldn’t understand.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like. Loving someone that much.”

“Me neither. I wonder if I ever will.”

“What about whatshisface?” That she pretended not to remember Matthew’s name gave me a small jolt of pleasure, and I felt lighter as I watched the casino recede in the rearview.

“It was never … never like that. I think in a way, that’s what I liked about being with Matthew. I felt safe from that kind of loss. I mean, it still hurt a lot when we broke up. It was humiliating. But I didn’t feel”—I searched for the right word—“despair. I felt like a version of my life was over. But not like, my entire life. My mom? My dad was her entire life.”

“She has you.”

“It didn’t matter. Not in those first few months. She kept threatening to take a bunch of pills. Or to leave the car running in the garage. Drop the hair dryer in the bath. It was like I wasn’t enough to keep her here. I guess that’s why I felt like I could leave. Like there was no real difference.”

“I’m sure there was. I mean, she didn’t do any of those things.”

“I guess so.” The clock on the dash said that it was 2:03 in the morning. The streets were mostly empty, save for a homeless man rummaging through one of the metal trash cans on the corner. I rolled the windows down and felt the stillness, the heaviness of the humid air. We were just a few blocks away from Clara’s shop, but the night still felt incomplete. After all the tumult, it needed some sort of closure. We needed a salve.

“I have an idea. Let’s go down to the beach.”

“Why?”

“Why not? We’ve got the whole town to ourselves.”

“You’re sort of a weirdo sometimes, Lily.”

“We can go for a swim. My dad used to say that nothing helped change your mood like swimming in the ocean. Like it could rinse everything bad away. I don’t think I’ve gone for a swim since I’ve been back.”

“I can’t swim.”

“Now you’re screwing with me. You live right on the beach.”

“No, really. Can you picture Des teaching me? I actually don’t think she can either. I mean, she grew up in Newark. Where was she going to learn?”