I slid onto the bench first, all the way to the wall, but the space was so tight that when October slid in beside me, our legs and arms pressed against each other’s. I remember trying to hold my breath, trying to shut my body down so that she wouldn’t pick up on my reaction to being that close to her. But my leg palpitated like it had its own heartbeat, and I realized with resigned mortification that there was no way for me to hide my feelings from her.

Luckily, glancing across the table at Cal distracted me. He looked elated and proud, and it made me homesick to be there with him, though not for my literal home. I was homesick for the feeling I used to have when I was with Cal and could see the world through his eyes. There’s a certain sort of hope that kids have, even in the direst of circumstances, because they don’t yet understand the constraints of time and the complexities of adult life. When I was young, I used to imagine time as a wide-open space, like a big field that Cal and I ran around in. Now that I’m older, I see that time is really more like a funnel, getting narrower and narrower as we move forward into it, limiting our space, our options, until one day there will be nothing but a tiny hole that we’ll drip through into nothingness.

I stared at the candle in the center of the table. Finally, a real one, in a real, old-fashioned pewter candleholder, with a real flame; I took comfort in that.

Cal and I both ordered Guinness, and October asked for a lemonade. After the waitress came back with our drinks, we ordered fish-and-chips and shepherd’s pie. Then Cal lifted his glass, looked at me and, still committed to his accent, said, “Here’s to brothers.” He leaned across the table, grabbed me, and kissed me on the forehead. Then he kissed October on the lips, adding, “And to the woman who brought my brother back home.”

Cal was smiling, the moment was poignant, and I remember thinking that if October and Cal were both in a sinking ship and I could save only one of them, I didn’t know which I would pick.

After we ate, the waitress offered us another round of Guinness, but Cal shook his head and asked for the check, which he paid right away. When I tried to leave the tip, he said, “Fuck off, you bloody cunt.” This was something we’d heard Noel and Liam say, and it made us laugh every time.

A second later, Cal got October’s attention and went back to talking like himself. “Baby,” he said, “would you be bummed if you had to drive home without us?”

She started fishing through her purse for the car keys and didn’t immediately respond.