“A little. But then when everybody was singing and I started singing too and then I remembered Kofi’s voice—he could really sing, almost like he could have got a record contract or something—and it was all right. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to church. I don’t know what I think of the whole deal anymore. But it was nice to remember him. That was nice. I don’t know. I still miss him. But now …”

“Now you’re not running anymore.”

“No.” He paused again. “Only gotta stick this place out another two and a half years.” He smiled. “My folks would kill me if I left now, anyway.” He stood to go. “And I don’t really want to. I’ll see you later, Ms. Hansen.”

“Later, Rashid.” And with that, he left.

I told Helen about this conversation that evening while we were having dinner at my house. We’d taken to having dinner together once a week, first my place, then hers. It had happened gradually, without any great declarations of friendship. It just was. We were planning this summer to take that trip to Ghana that she had proposed more than a year ago. “That boy is really something else,” she said, expertly twirling her spaghetti onto her fork. “We’re lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I know it. Not too many kids could have taken what he did from Jerome.”

“That’s for sure.” Helen fell silent for a moment, concentrating on her food. “Have you talked with him? Jerome, I mean.”

I sipped quickly from my wineglass. “No. I hear he’s living a couple of towns over. But no.”

Helen was quiet again, then spoke. “You slept with him. Didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. I dropped my fork.

“What?” My voice was loud, a little shrill.

“You slept with Jerome. Don’t worry. It’s okay. I haven’t told anyone. And I never will.”

Her gaze on me was warm and serious. I could hear my heart in my ears. “Jesus, Helen. That’s a hell of a bomb to drop. Why’d you say it like that?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d ever tell me, and I couldn’t figure out any way to ask. And I wanted you to know that it’s all right. You can trust me.”

My eyes stung. “I do trust you. I don’t know. The whole thing was so confusing. It still is.”

“You can talk to me. If you want to.” So I did.

It was late when she left. We embraced at the door and she said, “Next time I’ll tell the deep, dark secret.” We both laughed.

After she was gone I leaned against the door for a moment, trying to be still. To feel still. He was so far under my skin, for someone I’d spent really very little time with after all. I went and got ready for bed. Did my usual things. As I climbed in, I realized that these same sheets had been on my bed a year ago and more when we’d made love here. I buried my face in them, searching for a scent long washed away, a moment lost. I heard one car, then another go by. A lonesome sound. After that, it was quiet.