The day of the brunch at Helen’s dawned bright and sunny. I felt absurdly cheered by the prospect of leaving my house with somewhere social to go. When I lived in Cleveland, every Sunday I would have breakfast with Jane and Hannah, two of the other teachers from John Addams, where I taught. We went to Tommy’s on Coventry and had whimsically named eggs and toast and bacon dishes. We talked about the week and our students and our husbands, and they held me together as my marriage fell apart. No matter what had happened that week, I always had the breakfast club. We talk on the phone now, but it’s not the same. After Smith, I never thought I would do such a thing, find myself without the company of women. But life sweeps us along. You get married, you chase your ideals, you teach child after child after child, then—boom—you’re forty-eight and your daughter is a LUG (lesbian until graduation—or maybe beyond) at your alma mater and you have only one or two female friends and you’re teaching at this boys’ school. I thought about all this as I showered, the water warm and smooth on my body, sluicing gently down my legs. I had a brief sudden memory of Washington’s elegant hands turning the pages of his book. What would those hands look like resting on top of mine as I soaped my thighs? I shook my head and finished my shower briskly. Thoughts like that were a fast train to total despair.

Helen lived alone in a substantial Cape Cod on a quiet, leafy street. Of course, all the streets around here are quiet and leafy, so that wasn’t particularly remarkable. She had never married and had, in the way of these things, three cats. Her house, impressively, did not smell. She must have changed the litter box daily, if not more than once a day. Her home was filled with beautiful things, mostly from Africa and South Asia. Fabrics, sculptures, photographs. I was the first to arrive, and I found myself wandering around like a child in a museum, wanting to touch everything. Helen sensed my wonderment and smiled. “I like to spend my summers in places as different from here as I can manage. Good for the soul.”

“Helen, I can’t believe it. You’ve been everywhere.”

“Not really. Well. Most places in Africa and quite a few in India. Been to Australia only a couple of times. I really love Ghana. Have you ever been?”

“No. I wish.”

“Well. Perhaps we’ll go sometime—I like to go with a friend. Look, here come the others.”