Why didn’t she turn around and go back inside? Why didn’t she take his silence as a clear message to leave him alone? She came closer. The parched tall weeds didn’t sway. Nothing moved. She reached for the hammock and gripped the edge. Without intending to, without making a choice, she touched his thick hair. She heard him shift, obviously startled, but he didn’t cry out or speak. It was dark, she was fumbling, she hadn’t made any decision, but there she was with her hand on Arman’s head. She kept it there, her hand, as if it were separate from her—maybe a bug that had landed and trapped itself. She waited for the bug to make its way out. She watched the creek and waited.

“I was waiting for you,” he said.

When she realized it wasn’t Arman, she retracted her hand but didn’t scream. “I thought you were my husband.” She worked to catch her breath.

“No, you didn’t.”

He didn’t rise from the hammock.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I’m here to talk to you.”

“You need to leave.”

He didn’t move from his spot in the hammock. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Sarah glanced back at the house. “Yes, I do.”

“Nah.”

She wondered if he was drunk. “You don’t belong here.” She checked across the creek. Were there more people? The house was dark. Was that even his house? “You don’t belong here and you need to leave.”

He went to sit up, not without struggle, wincing as if from an old injury.

She moved away from the hammock, looked back at the house again. Her heart plunged into her stomach; she could swear someone was sitting at the outdoor table now.

“I don’t belong here,” he acknowledged.

“Listen, I’m married and you need to get out of here.”

“Right,” he said, more quietly now. “Got it.”

She turned and nervously retreated toward the house, praying he wouldn’t follow. She made it as far as the outdoor table and she was right, she hadn’t hallucinated, there was Arman, outside again, with his head resting on his arms. He hadn’t been sitting there when she came outside mere minutes ago. Had he followed close behind, saying nothing? Now he looked as if he might even be asleep, but he raised his head and squinted, as if to place her. She should have told him a stranger was in the hammock, a stranger that—if he was to be believed—lived in the house across the creek. Be careful, she should have said. But what two words were more useless?

“Who were you talking to?” Arman asked.

“Me,” the man said, and he was suddenly there and Arman was on his feet and they were all standing around the table.