“Oh, she does by now. I left a note.”

“What’s going to happen when you get back?”

Tinsley turns her palms upward. “Ce n’est pas important.”

A couple of guys stroll past slowly. Flattops, T-shirts with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and high-top sneakers. They make no effort to hide their leers as they undress Tinsley with their eyes. She ignores them, but I keep my gaze steady on them.

One of them mouths, Faggot.

Back in Odysseus heading north, I see the first sign for Lake Placid. Suddenly I am ten years old again, and Mom is rushing around the house while I play with my green plastic army men in the den. She calls to me to put on my ski jacket while she tries to wrestle Alan into a coat. As usual, I do as I’m told. But Alan doesn’t want to go anywhere and keeps trying to squirm away.

Mom gives up on the coat. Next, she can’t find one of Alan’s shoes. She tells me to hold Alan’s sticky, nose-picky hand and keep him near the front door while she searches for the shoe.

I hold Alan’s hand, but he keeps trying to yank it free. Mom’s agitation makes me agitated, and I punch Alan in the arm and yell at him to stay still. Alan starts to cry.

Mom comes back without the other shoe. Alan complains that I hit him. Mom scoops him up, and out we go into the cold gray winter afternoon.

In the station wagon, Alan sits in front wearing one shoe and no coat. I’m behind him, a small suitcase on the seat beside me. Mom backs out of the driveway fast, then hits the brake so hard that my head snaps back. I think something must be wrong and start to get scared. Mom drives fast down our street and out to the main road.

We go to the train station. It’s midafternoon, so I assume Dad is coming home from work early and we’re there to pick him up. (This is back when he goes to the city each day and I am excited to greet him when he comes home at night. Before he uses his brilliant business acumen to acquire the chain of Laundromats. Before he becomes the paterfamilias.)

But at the train station, Mom hops out of the car and pulls open the back door. “Hurry!” She grabs the small suitcase.

To Alan, she says, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Why are we getting out of the car? Why did Mom tell Alan to stay? Has she ever left him alone in the car before? What if he tries to drive away?