“I know I am.” I had a notion that she expected or wanted an apology from me. Since I had been thinking about my father, I mentioned him. “My father was an English professor. When I was a kid, I found him after he killed himself. I used to think he committed suicide because he didn’t get tenure.”

Hilary didn’t know what to say.

“Now I know it was because he didn’t satisfy himself. I found his so-called dissertation among his things after my mother died. There was no work there. He didn’t receive tenure because he didn’t care about the work. If he didn’t care, then why would that cause him to kill himself?”

“Are you all right?” Hilary asked.

“You kill yourself because you don’t live in this world.” I stopped long enough to see the concern on her face. “I’m sorry, Hilary.”

“What’s going on?”

I stood and put things into my bag.

“Zach?” Hilary came close and put her hand on my arm. “What is it?” She put herself in front of me.

“My daughter is dying.”

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It was an innocent enough hug, one meant to comfort a friend upon the discovery of shockingly sad news. I accepted the gesture, received the hug, put my arms around Hilary in response. As we pulled away; however, our faces were mere inches apart. I don’t think I knew who leaned in, who initiated it, but Hilary Gill and I kissed, not much of a kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s okay. You’re upset. I understand.”

“No, really, I’m so sorry.” I collected my bag and made to leave.

“Do you need to talk?” she asked. “I’m here to listen. Forget the kiss. You’re upset. Let me be a friend.”

I rankled at the sound of the word kiss. “I’m quite all right.” I backed her out into the corridor. “I’ve got to get home.”

“I’m here to talk whenever you want.”

She was kind or perhaps understanding enough to not ask for any details about my daughter’s condition. I appreciated that, though I was none too happy to have her present at that moment. Without saying anything else, I walked away.

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It is true that I can find many small flames in one fire. It being a cool night, I made a fire in the place of my house. I was poking at it when Meg came into the room and sat behind me on the ottoman.

“This was a good idea,” she said. “It’s been a long time since we had a fire? It’s such a nice fireplace.”

I nodded. “Have you looked in on Sarah?”

“She’s peaceful.”