I emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel around myself without looking in the mirror—age and too much solitude, I suppose. I’m thinking of getting a cat, for God’s sake. I wear the same lipstick shade I’ve worn for the last fifteen years, my hair is long and dark, the same. I’m afraid to change, I guess, is what it is. The way I look is the way I look.

The phone rang and I jumped to answer it, tucking my towel in as I went. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jana. It’s me.” Cal. My heart started racing.

“Cal? What on earth are you calling for?”

“I … well … I had something I wanted to tell you. It’s good news, really. I wanted you to hear it from me.” I could imagine him, nervously biting his left thumbnail as he talked, shifting from foot to foot. Habits I used to find endearing. “What’s up?”

“Caitlin and I are getting married. I don’t expect you to come or anything, but I didn’t want you to hear it from Sarah.” The words were conciliatory, but his voice sounded angry. Like he was daring me to be hysterical or accusing. Married. Married. He was married to me. But in the end that hadn’t been worth a damn. Caitlin would find that out soon enough.

“Well, when’s the big day?” I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

“We haven’t decided yet. Um. We’ll let you know.” He paused. “You’re okay right?”

“Never better, Cal. Never better. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I have something on tonight and—”

“Sure, I understand. Take care of yourself.”

Once his news was delivered he was all tenderness and solicitude. My stomach tightened, and incredibly, my eyes filled with tears. “Good-bye,” I said.

That was the end of our conversation. I sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes after hanging up the phone, feeling oddly breathless. I had an impulse to tell Jerome about it, to see his great brown eyes soften in sympathy and desire. I have been divorced for four years. I have no claim on Cal, nor he on me. I felt sick, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to comfort myself, to calm down. Okay. Okay. Time to dress.