Now it was almost nighttime. She’d planned to buy groceries on her way home from the precinct, but as she left, she thought, why not go a bit out of the way to the much-better market where she could buy fresher produce and still get home with enough time to cook? Sarah would make a simple and healthy and virtuous dinner, a meal to recharge and revive. Also, the bar (or restaurant) owned by the son of the old man from the subway was on a street near the much-better market. This was not why she was going there; Sarah would not be stopping for a drink at St. Ivo on her way home, though nothing would have been wrong with that. When Leda was in elementary school, Sarah had a mom-friend who had one drink by herself every day before coming home from work, and she seemed like one of the sanest people Sarah had ever known. And what would it hurt to take a look at the place? To see if St. Ivo did serve food and if the old man had been telling the truth about his son being the owner? She had no reason to think he’d been lying, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her father. Let’s say you go to a restaurant. Let’s say you order the fish. Unless that fish comes out with a head and tail, unless it’s a distinct fish, one that you’re familiar with—let’s say salmon—that fish can be anything. You think you know what fish you’re eating? You don’t know.

She and Matthew only ever went to the same four restaurants; they needed small changes, different places. She decided now that she had to give each day more effort. She could call this research and return with Matthew some other night if the place was appealing. He worked hard; she forgot that most of the time.

You are a good mother.

The man on the train had said this. She was sure of it. She knew it was silly but this was the only reason she had to go to this bar, why she had no choice but to at least try to see him again.

There was an alley to the side of the building, unusual for the neighborhood. She saw a man stacking trays of glassware. She watched as he stacked, as the glasses piled up. Sarah wasn’t sure why she watched him, but she told herself she’d walk away after the last tray.