I didn’t know if it was all the beer, Cal’s questions, or October’s serpentine driveway, but I felt like I was going to throw up.

Back at the house, October asked me to help her get Cal inside. As we walked him to the bedroom, Diego followed behind us while Cal continued droning on. “I’m so happy to see you, Harp,” and “You’re still my best friend, Harp,” and “I missed you, Harp.”

October got Cal to lie down, I took off his shoes, and by then he was out cold.

I stepped out of the room and the dog shadowed me. October turned off the lights, followed us into the hallway, and shut the bedroom door behind her.

In the kitchen she sat down at the table, rubbed her temples with the meaty parts of her little palms, and let out a long, mystified sigh. Diego dropped to the floor beside her, clattering like a bag of bones.

“So, you’re the illustrious Harp,” October said.

I didn’t know why I was still standing there. I didn’t want to be in that kitchen with her, but I didn’t want to be alone either. I felt a quiet rage building up inside of my chest, and the longer I stood there, the angrier I got, though I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was angry about. Too many possibilities.

“Joe . . .” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t know. Obviously.” She paused. “He cares about you so much. We can’t—”

I pounded on the counter to stop her from talking. She and Diego both jumped.

“I know we can’t, OK?” The volume and tone of my voice surprised me. “You don’t need to say it, because I know.”

We looked at each other, and my regret was as dense and as dark as the forest behind the house. Then something dawned on me, something that flipped my anger over to the other side. The other side of anger, I have discovered over the course of my life, is a deep, dark sadness.

“That was his sweatshirt, wasn’t it?”

October looked at me, puzzled.

“The day we met, you were wearing this old, ratty sweatshirt, and I remember thinking, That looks like the sweatshirt Cal used to wear. It was his, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about when you call him Cal.”

“Well, that’s what I call him, so get used to it.”

“Hey.” She raised her eyes but lowered her voice. “Don’t speak to me like that. This is hard for me too.”

I shook my head and turned to leave, but when I got to the door I stopped, spun back around. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me who your boyfriend was?”

Her brow rose sharply. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you grew up in Mill Valley?” I had no good answer to that question, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t wait for one. “Besides,” she went on, “I figured you knew. Everybody knows. All you have to do is search Chris’s name on the internet and you’d find out in two seconds.”