But even after everything that had happened, Carly said she didn’t want to leave. The guest room had been her idea, a compromise that kept everything simpler.

“There’s no way this night isn’t going to be weird no matter what,” she said. “But why does it have to be that weird? Can’t you guys just sleep in different rooms until this gets worked out? Tomorrow will be completely stupid if we leave now. Mom, you can stay in my room with me, if you want. If that’s better.”

Carly looked to John, wordlessly pleading for him to say something right, to do something right. He was surprised that she’d wedged her way into the conversation at all. She usually took in everything from the sidelines, pretending not to be paying attention. But she never manipulated a situation. She was easygoing, always looking for the laugh. She didn’t wheedle or angle for advantage. She wasn’t the obnoxious kind of kid who hopped up and down for the pat on the head for being precocious. Thank God.

In truth, he was grateful for her interruption and her suggestion. She’d managed to resupply the choice of exits from this mess. He was wrung out. But a jab of recognition startled him. He saw in Carly something privately familiar, a sense of double exposure when he returned her gaze. She was there in the moment, talking and participating, but she was also separated from them. Even from herself, in a way. She was removed, measuring, watching her influence, gauging her reach. She was both an active player and a fly on her own wall. It was a hard trick to manage, as John well knew.

Impressed and unnerved all at the same time, he hooded his notice of it, giving her the privacy of her newfound dexterity. He threw in his lot with Carly and made a case for the spare bed.

All night long, he never sank deeper than a wheel-spinning doze that kicked him awake every time a thought caught traction. The house sounds in the guest room were different from what he was used to. The clatter of the ice maker down in the kitchen came from the wrong direction. It startled him the two times the ice dropped in the night. The bed was aligned fully opposite from his own that he shared with Donna. The streetlight streaming against his closed eyelids came from a strange angle. No tall dresser loomed by the door, so the air moved through the room in a weird way.

John was also terrible at sleeping in hotels or at other people’s houses.