Julie was always made of sterner stuff than I. You don’t think of oral surgeons as having to be gladiators, but Julie showed me pictures of mouths with grotesquely mislocated teeth impinging on the person’s eye sockets that turned my stomach. In ordinary life, to be fair, Julie’s sterner stuff had not been tested quite as vigorously as mine had. But I owed Stefan for dumping ice water all over his zeal. This would be my amends; and to quote Thea Demetriou, it wouldn’t always be pretty.

It wasn’t Roman who answered our knock when we arrived at his home, but his wife, Trina. When she swung open the door, I nearly jumped onto Julie’s back. The dog creature who stepped into the space resembled a living gargoyle the size of a pony. “Say hi, Churchie,” Trina instructed the beast. Julie knelt, and a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle melted into her arms like a newborn lamb. Nervously, Trina invited us in. “I would really like to give Stefan one of our puppies as a thank-you.” Another huge dog, trailed by a slight blond boy, rounded the corner into the front hall as we entered. Tentatively, I ruffled the several yards of grizzled skin that draped the dog’s neck.

“These are very expensive dogs,” I said. “You shouldn’t just be giving them away.”

“Well, Thea, I can call you Thea, right? My husband might not be alive except for Stefan.”

Roman came to greet us, and I remembered his abundant waves of hair and eyes so big they almost looked upside-down. He was still jail pale, only fifty days out.

“Stefan and I talked about everything,” Roman told us, as Trina and Joey carried plates of sandwiches into the living room where we gathered. “Sure, I hated that Stefan was there. I hated what he did. But he seemed like just a kid, not that much older than my students. And your son was just consumed with regret. Helping him find a way to go on, it helped me find a way to go on. I never pictured myself in prison. Not that anyone ever does.”

Roman asked if I had a picture of Stefan with me. Then he laughed. Why would you? Stefan wasn’t a child whose mother carried school pictures in her wallet. But he wondered, had Stefan gained some weight? I assured him that he had, that Stefan was stronger in every way, working outside, planning to go back and finish college and that he sent his regards. Roman seemed relieved by this. Stefan often told him what we already knew, that if he’d ever really cared about anything beyond Belinda, maybe none of this would have happened. Roman preached the salvation of school. Nothing about education would ever go to waste, he told Stefan, although they acknowledged that nothing about education had made either of them smart enough to avoid his fate.