And that book about the environment that she asked me to read — Silent Spring or something. I didn’t get past the first chapter.

And the time she and I sat on the grass at the duck pond all afternoon after I dropped a pink football-shaped tab of mescaline. Everything seemed insanely funny — the way a Frisbee bumped on an air current, the way the ducks did that thing where their heads go down in the water and their feathery butts point up into the air. I laughed and laughed until my lungs hurt, not realizing what a bore I was being.

Why couldn’t I have been more sensitive and aware with Robin? Why couldn’t I have tried just a little harder?

A wave of fresh tears erupts. My fist slams the desktop hard enough to make everything jump and rattle. For the past nine months, Robin has been my anchor, the rock-steady rhythm section of my life. Before her, I had no idea how reassuring the attention of someone so smart and caring could be. But now that I’ve felt it, been swaddled in it, she can’t just take it away. The tears become sobs. Shoulders trembling, I bury my face in my hands. Get ahold of yourself, man. . . .

Besides, there’s a sliver of hope. The ground beneath me may have disintegrated, but like Wile E. Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon, I’m still suspended in that cartoon sky, churning my arms and legs. I know Robin. It was hard for her to get to the point where she could say she loved me. We started going together in October, and it wasn’t until March that the words managed to squeeze themselves through her lips. But once they were stated, I knew it was for real. So if she took that long to fall in love, she’s not going to fall out of love overnight, is she? Isn’t saying she feels uncertain a way of asking for reassurance?

I wipe away the tears, take a steadying breath, and pick up a pen. Then change my mind and decide to use a pencil. I need to craft my response carefully.

7/9/69

Dear Robin,

It was good to finally get your letters. I was starting to worry that maybe they don’t have regular mail up there in the hinterland. That they use carrier pigeons or the mail carriers travel by mooseback.