Allie shot me a look that said “Thank God.” And then she said, “But it’s not about that. You know? Sex is ultimately only sex even if it shakes the stars and turns the planet. There’re all the other parts of the meeting between the two of you. That invisible space that’s formed from the projections of your feelings and ideas of each other. Mirrors of each other and for each other. The hopes and fears and transferences.”

We walked in silence for a few steps, our sneakers hitting the concrete path simultaneously. Then ice broke off a branch and cracked as it fell.

“But sex sure can be a great glue,” Allie added.

“Men are so visually programmed. I just can’t imagine doing a sexy dance for him.”

“He’d love it. Hey, I have this great CD of old-fashioned burlesque music … we should hire a stripper to teach us how to do it. The hell with all this jazzercise and step aerobics. Let’s learn how to strip and shake.”

We both laughed. Allie would probably practice in her living room and spring it on T.J. one night.

“I tried to get those tassels on pasties to twirl, but never could.” Allie shook her head and her hair swung under her knitted cap.

“Now I can do that! I was the hula hoop champ.”

“I never could do that, either,” she said. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Men our age either are so ashamed of their biological issues—what is it, 50 percent of men age fifty have the dreaded E.D.—and they fantasize a younger woman will perk up that old member. So they deal with their changing sexuality by avoidance of women our age. They’re almost afraid of knowing women their own age. And we … we’re still able to do the sex part, just not the baby part. You think men would get smart and realize the play and great fun in that. What we all want—men and women—is intimacy, and our sexuality defeats us, well, not defeat exactly, but throws up hurdles along the way.” We walked a few more steps and she added, “But it’s a great motivator whether it’s pulling you together or pushing you apart.”

About five minutes later, after we had hit the bathroom on the trail and were rounding toward the river, still frozen and unmoving, she said, “But the age thing will get us in the end. T.J. and me. There’s the kid issue. And the fact I’m going to die and leave him. He thinks about it all the time. He’ll probably be the one to finally quit our dance.”

“He could get cancer or have a heart attack and die before you. He could marry a woman his own age and she could die. You can’t predict death and disaster. Look at my life.” We both think about Alex.