“I don’t think you do,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

“I hear you.” Her voice was even, almost monotone.

I felt my shoulders sag.

“Are you okay?” She put a tentative hand on my shoulder. I heard her swallow. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me,” I told her. I reached up and tapped her hand. It struck me that Hilary was understandably, rightfully distraught, but that her concern for me was somehow odd. “Listen, if you don’t want me to talk to anyone, I won’t.” I stood. “Well, I’ve got to go try to teach these people something.” I looked for the window that was not present in Hilary’s office. I wanted to kiss her because I knew it was the wrong thing to do, a feeling or thought that made no sense at all to me but made all the sense in the world. I was not attracted to Hilary at all, did not want at all to be close to her, to be intimate with her, to know her any better than I did. Yet, I wanted to kiss her. Had I not needed to leave for class, I don’t know what I might have done or why. “We can’t do this anymore,” I told her. I walked to the door.

“Can we get together and talk later?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“I’m sorry about everything,” she said.

I didn’t understand her apology. I stood frozen for a beat. “You’re certain you don’t want me to talk to the chair?”

“Yes. It’s too late for that anyway.”

I had gone into Hilary’s office to offer help, perhaps comfort, but I ended up being the one comforted and finally offering her some extra pain. I was not happy with myself, needless to say. I was, in fact, ashamed. But like so much lately, I had no idea how I had so deftly stumbled into the muck. I went on to class and delivered my lecture on autopilot. I had the sinking and sobering feeling throughout that it was one of my better performances; it seemed I was so much better when I was not fully present.

The plain package contained the plain shirt I’d ordered in a larger size. Tucked discreetly under the collar was a neatly rolled yellow Post-it square with tiny writing. It read, “Por favor ayudenos. No nos dejan ir.” They will not let us go. Outside my den window, I could see clouds gathering against the hills.

In diesem Wetter, in diesem Braus